ENVISIONING AN ALL SOUTHERN CAMEROONS CONFERENCE – Fontem Neba

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Saturday 19 Sept. 2026

ENVISIONING AN ALL SOUTHERN CAMEROONS CONFERENCE
–Lessons We Must Learn From the AACs

Fontem Neba, PhD
Scholar, Critic & Political and Civil Rights Advocate

Abstract — Part II
This article, Part II of a three-part series extracted from the author’s forthcoming book, examines the potential obstacles facing a proposed All Southern Cameroons Conference if or when it has to hold and the institutional safeguards required to protect it. Drawing lessons from AAC I and AAC II, the article argues that unity alone cannot guarantee sustainable collective political action. Government interference, elite competition, political appointments, regional rivalry, financial dependence, leadership disputes, and external pressure must be anticipated and addressed at the institutional-design stage. It proposes a permanent Conference, rather than a one-time event, supported by transparent rules for representation, leadership succession, finances, decision-making, and accountability. The article further advocates electronic consultation as a contingency where physical assembly is obstructed, while maintaining legitimate and inclusive representation through the thirteen divisions. Above all, it argues that political appointments should affect individuals, not constituencies, and that the Conference must remain stronger than its leaders.
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Part II — Anticipating Obstacles and Protecting the Conference

Introduction
The history of AAC I and AAC II teaches two complementary lessons. First, the people of the former Southern Cameroons are capable of coming together around a common political purpose. Second, collective political action can be weakened when its institutions are not sufficiently protected against internal competition, external interference and the changing political interests of individual leaders.

A new All Southern Cameroons Conference must therefore be designed with the assumption that it will face resistance. The greatest mistake would be to establish the Conference first and only afterward begin asking how it should respond to political interference, elite competition or government appointments. These questions must be addressed at the foundation of the institution.

The Conference should not be constructed around the expectation that every participant will always act in the collective interest. Institutions exist precisely because individual interests sometimes diverge from collective interests. The objective is consequently not to find perfect leaders but to establish rules that make destructive behavior difficult, political disagreement manageable and institutional continuity possible.

The Conference must be capable of surviving the departure of individuals, the emergence of competing political organizations with disruptive intent, government pressure and disagreement over political strategy. Its strength must derive from its mandate and procedures rather than from the personal authority of its leaders.

Expecting Political Interference
A territory-wide political conference dealing with the future of the former Southern Cameroons is unlikely to operate in a political vacuum. The government may regard such an initiative as politically sensitive, particularly if it develops a coherent collective mandate. The experience surrounding AAC I and AAC II demonstrates that collective political organization can attract organized opposition.

The proposed Anglophone General Conference associated with Cardinal Christian Tumi provides another important lesson. The government’s refusal to permit the proposed gathering demonstrated the vulnerability of a political initiative that depends upon physical assembly in circumstances where authorities can prevent such a gathering.

A new Conference should therefore distinguish between the right to organize politically and the practical ability to assemble physically. If a physical meeting is obstructed, the political process should not automatically collapse.

The Conference must be designed from the beginning with alternative channels of consultation and deliberation. Physical meetings should remain important, but they should form only one component of a larger institutional structure.

Can an All Southern Cameroons Conference Meet Electronically?
An electronic Conference is both conceivable and potentially useful. Modern communications technology permits representatives from the thirteen divisions and the diaspora to deliberate without being physically assembled in one location. This could significantly reduce the ability of any authority to prevent all forms of collective consultation simply by blocking one physical venue.

Electronic organization also offers other advantages. It can reduce travel costs, permit participation by people living abroad, facilitate documentation and allow the Conference to operate through several stages rather than one highly visible gathering.

However, an online meeting by itself does not constitute a representative Conference. The critical issue remains the legitimacy of the delegates. Each division must establish its representatives through transparent procedures before those representatives participate electronically.

The electronic model should therefore be regarded as an institutional capability, not merely a technological convenience. If physical meetings become impossible, the Conference should be able to continue its work through verified online meetings, written submissions, consultations and other lawful communication mechanisms.

At the same time, digital exclusion, poor connectivity, misinformation, identity verification and cybersecurity must be addressed. The objective should be to create a system in which technology expands participation without allowing technological advantages to determine political representation.

A Conference Must Have a Permanent Institutional Identity
One of the most important safeguards is to ensure that the Conference is an institution rather than an event. AAC I and AAC II were historically significant gatherings, but the failure to consolidate their achievements into an enduring structure created an institutional vacuum.

The new Conference should therefore have a constitution, permanent administrative organs, defined membership rules, procedures for accreditation, financial regulations, decision-making rules and mechanisms for leadership succession.

This distinction matters because an event can be disrupted once; an institution can recover. A government may prevent a physical conference from taking place on a particular date, but it should not thereby be able to eliminate the institution’s capacity to consult its constituencies. The Conference should consequently be capable of postponing, relocating, dividing its proceedings into stages or moving portions of its work online without losing its institutional identity.

The Problem of Political Appointments
One of the most difficult questions concerns what happens when a prominent member of the Conference receives a government appointment. This possibility should be anticipated rather than treated as an exceptional betrayal, even though the government could well hatch such a plot in the hope of dismembering the Conference.

A government appointment should not automatically mean that an individual has acted improperly, even though accepting the appointment clearly means relegating collective interest to second place. A person may genuinely believe that entering government provides an opportunity to serve the public or advance the interests of his or her constituency. The Conference should therefore avoid creating a political culture in which every appointment is automatically interpreted as treachery.

At the same time, holding public office may create a conflict of interest if the individual continues to exercise executive authority within an independent political institution whose purpose is to represent a collective constituency.

The appropriate response is institutional rather than personal. A member who accepts a significant government appointment should normally relinquish an executive, representational or decision-making role within the Conference while remaining eligible, where appropriate, to participate as an ordinary member.

The principle should be clear: no individual should simultaneously control both sides of a political negotiation.

What Happens to the Divisional Mandate?
A government appointment should affect the individual, not the constituency. If a delegate from a particular division accepts government office, that division should not lose its representation in the Conference.

The division should have a predetermined procedure for replacing the delegate or appointing another person to exercise the mandate. This prevents the government from indirectly weakening the Conference simply by recruiting one of its prominent participants.

The principle is particularly important because political appointments can be attractive precisely because they remove influential individuals from collective movements. If every appointment creates an institutional crisis, the appointment itself becomes a political weapon.

A properly designed Conference should make that strategy ineffective. Individuals may change political positions; constituencies should not lose their institutional voice.

Preventing Elite Capture
The Conference will inevitably attract influential people. Former government officials, politicians, lawyers, academics, traditional authorities, religious leaders, businesspeople and diaspora professionals may all possess valuable experience. Their participation should be welcomed, but their prominence must not automatically translate into control.

The first safeguard should be a distinction between participation and authority. Anyone capable of contributing constructively should be able to participate in appropriate forums. Formal decision-making authority, however, should depend upon a defined mandate.

No individual should control accreditation, the agenda, finances, communications and decision-making simultaneously. Institutional responsibilities should be distributed among different organs and subject to oversight.

Leadership positions should have defined terms and should be subject to rotation. The purpose is not to exclude experienced leaders but to prevent the Conference from becoming permanently identified with one personality. The Conference must be larger and stronger than its most famous participants.

Preventing Disruptive Competition Among Southern Cameroons Elites
Elite competition cannot be eliminated, and attempting to eliminate it would be unrealistic. The objective should instead be to prevent competition from becoming destructive.

Several rules can help. Delegates should have clearly defined mandates. Major decisions should require collective approval. Leadership positions should rotate. Financial resources should be independently monitored. Conflicts of interest should be disclosed. Unauthorized individuals should not be permitted to speak officially for the Conference.

The thirteen-division framework provides an additional safeguard. It prevents the institutional structure from being reduced to a competition between two regional blocs. Committees should include members from different divisions, and major decisions should require support extending across geographical constituencies.

The Conference should also establish procedures for resolving disputes before disagreements become crises. Mediation, internal appeals and independent review should be available.

The goal is to transform political competition from a struggle for control into a competition of ideas.

De-emphasizing the North West–South West Binary
The thirteen divisions should be the primary territorial units of representation precisely because the previous regional binary proved vulnerable to political manipulation.

This does not mean denying the historical significance of the North West and South West. Those identities are part of the history and social reality of the territory. But they should not become the principal institutional framework through which political authority is distributed.

A divisional system gives every part of the territory an identifiable political space. A smaller division is not required to align automatically with a larger regional bloc simply to protect its interests. It can negotiate directly within the common institution.

The result should be a political culture in which a disagreement between two divisions does not automatically become a North West–South West confrontation.

Transparency and Public Accountability
Transparency should be one of the Conference’s strongest defenses against manipulation. Secretive political organizations inevitably generate suspicion, particularly in a political environment marked by accusations of betrayal and government influence.

The Conference should therefore establish clear rules concerning accreditation, leadership, finances, decision-making and public communication. Major resolutions should be documented, and financial contributions and expenditures should be subject to appropriate oversight.

Transparency does not mean that every internal discussion must be made public. Sensitive matters may sometimes require confidentiality. But confidentiality should be justified by a legitimate institutional reason rather than used to conceal decisions from the constituencies represented.

A transparent institution is more difficult for individuals to capture because its actions can be evaluated against established rules.

Financial Independence
Financial dependence creates political vulnerability. If one individual, organization or government becomes the principal source of funding, that actor may acquire disproportionate influence.

The Conference should therefore establish diversified sources of legitimate funding. Contributions from individuals, community organizations, professional groups and the diaspora could be accepted under transparent rules. No contribution should confer additional voting rights or political authority.

The Conference should operate through an approved budget and independent financial oversight. Major expenditures should be authorized according to established procedures.

Financial independence is therefore not merely an administrative matter. It is an essential component of political independence.

A Code of Conduct
Every delegate should agree to a code of conduct. The code should establish minimum standards concerning respectful debate, conflicts of interest, institutional confidentiality, use of Conference resources and public representation.

It should prohibit intimidation, deliberate misinformation, unauthorized commitments on behalf of the Conference and the use of institutional positions primarily for personal political campaigns.

Disciplinary procedures should be independent and fair. The purpose should not be to suppress disagreement. A healthy institution must permit strong criticism and competing ideas. The purpose is to prevent disagreements from becoming personal campaigns to destroy the institution. The Conference should be able to debate vigorously without becoming dysfunctional.

Leadership Succession and Institutional Continuity
No leader should be indispensable. This principle must be embedded in the Conference’s structure from the beginning.

Every major office should have a defined term and a clear process for replacement. The same should apply to divisional representatives. A delegate who resigns, accepts government office, becomes incapacitated or otherwise leaves the Conference should be replaceable without reopening the entire institutional question.

Succession rules also reduce the temptation for leaders to use resignation as a weapon. If departure does not threaten institutional survival, political disagreements become easier to manage. The essential principle is simple: people come and go; the mandate remains.

The Conference Must Be Able to Negotiate Without Being Captured
The ultimate test of institutional independence will be the Conference’s relationship with the government. The objective should not be permanent confrontation. If a peaceful political settlement is possible, negotiation must remain available.

But negotiation must be conducted institutionally. No individual should be able to negotiate away the collective mandate without authorization. No government appointment should automatically confer authority to speak for the Conference. No development project should purchase political allegiance. No external sponsor should determine the political position of the institution.

The Conference should be willing to engage government, but it must know who has the authority to negotiate, what mandate that person possesses and what decisions require wider approval.

A collective political institution is meaningful only when it can negotiate without surrendering its institutional autonomy.

Conclusion
The greatest lesson from AAC I and AAC II is that unity cannot depend upon goodwill alone. Political institutions must anticipate the pressures that will test them. Government opposition, political appointments, elite competition, regional rivalry, financial dependence and leadership disputes are foreseeable challenges rather than unexpected accidents.

A new All Southern Cameroons Conference should therefore be designed as a permanent institution rather than a single event. The thirteen divisions should provide its territorial foundation, while transparent rules should determine representation, leadership, finances and decision-making.

The Conference should also possess the ability to function electronically if physical assembly is obstructed. A government may be able to prevent people from gathering at a particular place, but it should not be able to extinguish an institution that has multiple lawful means of consultation.

Most importantly, the Conference must ensure that political appointments affect individuals rather than constituencies. A leader may enter government, but the division he or she represents must remain represented. Elite competition may occur, but it must be channeled through rules rather than allowed to destroy the institution.

The central lesson is therefore clear: the Conference must be stronger than its leaders, more enduring than its political circumstances, and more important than the ambitions of any individual or group. Only then can the challenges of AAC I and AAC II become a lesson rather than a recurring pattern. I hope to lay out how this can be achieved in Part III.

(Extracted from my forthcoming book, Understanding The Southern Cameroons Question: Identity, Grievances and the Search for a Sustainable Future).

Part III is here.

ORGANIZING SOUTHERN CAMEROONS UNITY: HISTORICAL LESSONS FROM LIBERATION CONFERENCES – Fontem Neba

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ORGANIZING SOUTHERN CAMEROONS UNITY: HISTORICAL LESSONS FROM LIBERATION CONFERENCES

Fontem Neba, PhD
Scholar, Critic & Political and Civil Rights Advocate

Abstract
This paper examines the historical role of liberation conferences in organizing political unity, developing representative institutions, and transforming fragmented struggles into coherent political movements. Drawing on experiences from South Africa, Eritrea, Algeria, India, Ghana, and East Timor, it identifies common functions and lessons relevant to Southern Cameroons. The paper argues that effective conferences do more than assemble political leaders: they facilitate consultation, articulate collective programmes, broaden representation, establish durable institutions, manage political differences, and connect local struggles to wider networks of solidarity. The South African Congress of the People demonstrates the importance of grassroots consultation; Eritrea highlights organizational consolidation; Algeria demonstrates the importance of establishing institutional relationships between political leadership, territorial structures, and other components of a liberation movement, while also illustrating the consequences of unresolved struggles over political authority; India illustrates the coordination of territorially dispersed movements; Ghana demonstrates the value of international solidarity; and East Timor shows both the possibilities and challenges of transitioning from resistance to institution-building. The paper concludes that a Southern Cameroons Conference should prioritize legitimate representation, collective mandate, institutional continuity, inclusive participation, and mechanisms for peaceful political deliberation.
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Introduction
History shows that peoples engaged in struggles for political freedom often need more than individual leaders, political parties, or campaigns. At critical moments, they need representative gatherings through which dispersed communities can articulate grievances, define common objectives, reconcile differences, and establish institutions capable of carrying their aspirations forward.

Such gatherings have taken different forms. Some were congresses of liberation movements; others were people’s conferences bringing together political organizations, civil society, workers, women, youth, and territorial constituencies. They did not all produce the same results, and none provides a perfect model for another society. Their historical value lies in the functions they performed: consolidating political identity, producing common programmes, creating organizational structures, broadening participation, and giving liberation struggles a recognizable political voice.

The experiences of South Africa, Eritrea, Algeria, India, Ghana, and East Timor are particularly instructive. They demonstrate both the possibilities and limitations of representative liberation conferences and offer useful lessons for the organization of Southern Cameroons unity.

South Africa: The Congress of the People and the Freedom Charter
One of the most significant examples is the Congress of the People, held at Kliptown in South Africa in June 1955. Approximately 3,000 delegates participated, representing different sections of South African society. Its significance began before the gathering itself. Organizers conducted extensive consultations across the country, collecting the demands and aspirations of ordinary people.

These consultations contributed to the drafting of the Freedom Charter, which transformed broad aspirations for freedom and equality into a concrete political programme. The Congress consequently became more than a meeting of political leaders. It created a common political language around which different constituencies could organize.

The lesson for Southern Cameroons is important: a people’s conference should not simply gather prominent personalities and produce a declaration. It should begin with consultation from below and transform the concerns of communities into a coherent political programme. The legitimacy of a conference therefore depends partly on the process through which its mandate is developed. People should have an opportunity to discuss their concerns and expectations before representatives gather.

Eritrea: From Fragmentation to Organizational Consolidation
The Eritrean liberation struggle provides another important example, particularly concerning political and organizational fragmentation. The First Congress of the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front (EPLF) was held in January 1977. More than 300 delegates represented military units, departments, and mass organizations involving workers, peasants, women, youth, and students.

The Congress addressed questions of organization, political mobilization, unity, and the social and economic transformation of liberated areas. Its importance lay in its attempt to give an increasingly complex liberation movement a coherent political and organizational structure.

The Eritrean experience illustrates an important principle: political unity must be organized and institutionalized. A movement divided among organizations, regions, or personalities cannot assume that goodwill alone will permanently hold it together. It needs agreed structures, procedures, responsibilities, and mechanisms for resolving differences.

At the same time, organizational consolidation does not automatically guarantee pluralism or democratic accountability. For Southern Cameroons, the relevant lesson is therefore to combine institutional strength with transparency, minority protection, leadership succession, and accountable decision-making.

Algeria: The Soummam Congress and Institutional Organization
The Algerian liberation struggle provides another important example of the relationship between political unity, territorial organization, and institutional authority. When the National Liberation Front (FLN) launched the armed struggle against French rule in November 1954, the movement did not possess a fully consolidated national institutional structure. It brought together different political tendencies, regional networks, and revolutionary actors whose relationships and responsibilities were not always clearly defined.

The Congress of Soummam, held in August 1956, represented an important attempt to address these organizational problems. Representatives of the revolutionary movement sought to establish a clearer political and organizational framework for conducting the struggle. The Congress adopted territorial structures, clarified institutional responsibilities, and attempted to establish principles governing the relationship between political leadership and the military dimensions of the revolution.

One of the important principles associated with the Soummam framework was the attempt to give political authority a coordinating role over the armed struggle and to establish collective institutional leadership rather than allowing the movement to depend entirely upon individual personalities. The organization of the revolution into territorial wilayas also demonstrated the importance of connecting national political objectives with structures capable of representing and coordinating different geographical areas.

The Algerian experience therefore offers a significant lesson for Southern Cameroons: political unity requires more than agreement on a general objective. It requires an institutional architecture through which different territories, organizations, and constituencies can participate in a common political project. Representation should be defined before disputes over authority arise, and the relationship between political institutions and other forms of organizational activity should be governed by agreed rules.

The Algerian experience also provides a cautionary lesson. The institutional arrangements associated with Soummam did not permanently eliminate disagreements within the liberation movement. Subsequent tensions emerged concerning the distribution of authority among internal and external leadership structures and between political and military actors. These disagreements became particularly significant during the transition to independence.

For Southern Cameroons, the lesson is therefore both constructive and cautionary. A Conference should establish institutions strong enough to coordinate a common political programme but sufficiently accountable to prevent authority from becoming concentrated in a small number of individuals or organizations. It should clearly define territorial representation, leadership succession, financial accountability, decision-making procedures, relations with external actors, and mechanisms for resolving institutional disputes.
The Algerian case consequently reinforces a central principle of this paper: a liberation conference should not merely create a declaration of unity. It should create rules and institutions through which unity can be maintained when political interests, personalities, strategies, and organizational priorities inevitably differ.

India: Connecting Territorial Struggles
India offers a different but relevant precedent through the All-India States People’s Conference, established in 1927. It brought together political movements operating in the princely states of British India, where local organizations were campaigning for greater political participation and responsible government.

Its significance was its ability to connect numerous struggles that were geographically separate but politically related. Rather than leaving each princely state to pursue an isolated struggle, the Conference provided a broader political platform through which movements could coordinate and connect their demands to India’s wider independence movement. This demonstrates the value of a common political institution that does not require the disappearance of local identities. Different communities can retain their particular concerns while participating in a common national or territorial project.

This has direct relevance to Southern Cameroons. The thirteen divisions need not surrender their individual interests in order to participate in a common institution. Meaningful territorial representation could instead become one of the foundations of collective political legitimacy.

Ghana: The All-African People’s Conference
The First All-African People’s Conference, held in Accra in December 1958, provides another important example. More than 300 political and trade-union leaders representing organizations from 28 African countries and territories participated. Representatives came from both independent and still-colonized African territories.
Ghana had achieved independence the previous year, but Kwame Nkrumah viewed Ghana’s independence as connected to the liberation of the rest of Africa. The conference therefore provided a platform for anti-colonial movements to exchange ideas, build solidarity, and assert African political agency.

The importance of Accra was partly its network-building function. It allowed movements operating under different colonial circumstances to recognize common interests and develop relationships extending beyond their individual territories.

For Southern Cameroons, the lesson is that a conference can become a mechanism for building relationships with African civil society, political organizations, academics, lawyers, human-rights institutions, and other international actors. Such engagement, however, should remain accountable to the mandate established by the people represented by the Conference.

East Timor: From Resistance to Institution-Building
East Timor provides an especially relevant example because its major political conference occurred during the transition from resistance toward the construction of an independent political system.

The CNRT Congress of August 2000 brought together representatives of East Timor’s political parties and other sectors of society. Seven political parties participated, while the wider Congress included representatives of NGOs, women, youth, and regional constituencies. Its agenda included the political system, constitutional questions, the economy, reconciliation, natural resources, security, international relations, and the transition toward elections and self-government.

The Congress demonstrated how a resistance organization could attempt to transform itself into a broader political forum capable of accommodating competing political forces. But East Timor also provides a cautionary lesson. Serious disagreements followed the Congress, and relations between important political organizations and the CNRT leadership deteriorated. The broader transition nevertheless continued toward a constituent assembly, constitution, and elected government.

The lesson is significant: bringing people together does not eliminate political competition. A successful conference needs institutions capable of managing disagreement after the conference ends.

What These Experiences Tell Us
Although these historical examples differ considerably, several common achievements can be identified.
First, liberation conferences can turn scattered grievances into a common political programme. South Africa’s Freedom Charter is perhaps the clearest example. The consultation process allowed ordinary people to contribute to defining what freedom should mean.

Second, conferences can convert organizational fragmentation into political coordination. The Eritrean experience demonstrates the importance of structures capable of coordinating different components of a liberation movement.

Third, conferences can establish an institutional relationship between political authority and territorial organization. Algeria’s Soummam Congress demonstrates the importance of clarifying institutional responsibilities and connecting a common political project to structures operating across different territories. It also demonstrates that institutional design must anticipate disagreements over authority rather than assuming that unity will automatically eliminate them.

Fourth, conferences can bring territorially dispersed communities into a common political framework. The Indian experience illustrates how local struggles can be connected without abolishing their individual identities.
Fifth, conferences can create wider networks of solidarity. The Accra conference demonstrated how a gathering could connect liberation movements across national boundaries and increase their collective political visibility.
Sixth, conferences can provide a bridge from resistance to institution-building. East Timor demonstrates the importance of creating political structures capable of carrying a society from resistance toward constitutional and democratic institutions.

Taken together, these experiences suggest a broader sequence: consultation should produce representation; representation should produce institutions; institutions should provide coordination; and coordination should create continuity beyond individual leaders.

The Conference Is Not the Struggle
There is, however, an important distinction that should not be overlooked: a conference does not liberate a people simply because it is large, historic, or representative. The conference is an instrument.
Its value depends upon what it creates and what happens after it closes. A conference that produces an impressive declaration but leaves no institution capable of implementing its decisions may have limited long-term impact. Conversely, a conference that establishes legitimate representation, a political programme, accountable institutions, and mechanisms for continued consultation can influence a struggle long after delegates have returned home.

The Algerian experience reinforces this distinction. The Soummam Congress demonstrated the capacity of a conference to establish organizational principles and structures, but subsequent disagreements within the liberation movement showed that institutional decisions must be supported by mechanisms capable of managing changing political relationships. The real question should therefore not simply be: How many people attended? It should be: What political capacity did the people gain from meeting?

Consultation Before Representation
The South African experience is particularly instructive because the Freedom Charter emerged from extensive consultations rather than exclusively from a small group of leaders. People communicated beyond a narrow circle of political elites. South Africa’s Congress involved people from different racial, social, and political backgrounds. Eritrea’s Congress included mass organizations representing workers, peasants, women, youth, and students. East Timor’s Congress incorporated political parties alongside NGOs, women, youth individual leaders or organizations cannot easily provide on their own. A politician can claim to speak for a constituency. An activist can claim popular support. A political organization can claim historical legitimacy. But a properly constituted conference can demonstrate how representatives were selected, what constituencies they represent, and what mandate they possess their demands and aspirations before representatives gathered.
This principle is crucial for Southern Cameroons. If a future Conference is genuinely intended to represent the people, its mandate should precede the gathering. Communities should have opportunities to discuss their concerns, priorities, and expectations before delegates arrive. The Conference should therefore be the culmination of consultation rather than the beginning of consultation. This approach could also reduce personality politics. A prominent individual should not be able to arrive at a Conference carrying a programme that the constituency he or she claims to represent has never discussed.

The Algerian experience adds another dimension to this principle: representation should not end with the selection of delegates. The institutional relationships established by the Conference must themselves remain accountable to the constituencies that produced the mandate. In other words, consultation should be continuous rather than limited to the period preceding the Conference.

Inclusive Representation
The historical examples also demonstrate that liberation movements become more representative when they extend beyond a narrow circle of political elites. South Africa’s Congress involved people from different racial, social, and political backgrounds. Eritrea’s Congress included mass organizations representing workers, peasants, women, youth, and students. East Timor’s Congress incorporated political parties alongside NGOs, women, youth, and regional representatives.

A Southern Cameroons Conference should similarly be broader than existing political organizations. Political parties and movements should participate, but so should traditional authorities, women, youth, professionals, academics, religious institutions, civil society, business communities, and the diaspora. The objective should not necessarily be to give every organization identical authority. It should be to ensure that important components of the people are not excluded from deliberations about their collective future.

The Algerian experience also suggests that representation should have a territorial dimension. Institutional arrangements should provide clear channels through which the different divisions and communities of Southern Cameroons can participate in a common political framework without losing their legitimate local identities and concerns.

Institutional Continuity
Perhaps the most important lesson is that liberation conferences must produce institutions capable of surviving individual leaders. Leaders inevitably change. Some retire, resign, change political positions, or leave political life. Organizations also change, while political circumstances can change even more rapidly. A Conference that depends upon a handful of personalities will therefore remain vulnerable.

For Southern Cameroons, institutional continuity should be designed from the beginning. Representation, leadership succession, finances, decision-making, conflict resolution, accountability, and external negotiations should all be governed by established rules.

The East Timor experience demonstrates why this matters. Even after a broadly representative Congress, serious organizational disagreements could threaten the common institutional framework. A durable institution must therefore be designed to survive disagreements among its leaders and participating organizations.
Algeria reinforces the same point from another direction. The establishment of institutional rules does not by itself guarantee institutional continuity. Rules must be sufficiently legitimate, transparent, and collectively accepted to withstand changes in political circumstances and disagreements among organizations. The objective should therefore be not simply to establish institutions, but to establish institutions whose authority derives from a clearly defined and continuing popular mandate.

Managing Differences
Another lesson is that unity does not mean unanimity. Participants in historical conferences did not necessarily share identical ideologies, strategies, or political interests. The South African Congress movement contained ideological differences, while the East Timor Congress demonstrated serious disagreements among political organizations. The Algerian experience further demonstrates that disagreements over authority, organization, and political strategy can become particularly consequential when institutions do not provide sufficiently accepted mechanisms for resolving them.

The objective of a Southern Cameroons Conference should therefore not be to eliminate disagreement. It should be to establish procedures through which disagreement can occur without destroying the institution. A mature political institution should be able to say: We disagree on this question, but we remain committed to the institution through which the question will be resolved. That is a stronger foundation for unity than requiring everyone to think alike.

The Conference as a Source of Collective Legitimacy
A representative conference can also provide a form of legitimacy that individual leaders or organizations cannot easily provide on their own. A politician can claim to speak for a constituency. An activist can claim popular support. A political organization can claim historical legitimacy. But a properly constituted conference can demonstrate how representatives were selected, what constituencies they represent, and what mandate they possess.

This distinction becomes particularly important where multiple organizations and individuals claim to speak on behalf of the same population. The authority of the Conference should therefore come from the process through which people are represented, rather than from the fame, wealth, or political history of individual delegates.
The Algerian experience suggests that collective legitimacy must also include clarity concerning the location and limits of political authority. A representative institution should make clear which decisions belong to the Conference, which belong to its executive structures, and which require consultation with the constituencies represented. Such clarity can reduce competition over undefined authority and make institutional accountability easier to establish.

What a Southern Cameroons Conference Could Contribute
A properly constituted Southern Cameroons Conference could bring the thirteen divisions and the wider Southern Cameroons community into a common political framework. It could consolidate mandates from the people, articulate a collective political programme, establish representative institutions, provide mechanisms for reconciling competing political organizations, protect minority interests, coordinate peaceful political engagement, and provide an authoritative mechanism for dialogue with Cameroon and the international community.

Drawing from Algeria, it could also clarify the relationship between territorial representation, political institutions, and the different organizations participating in the wider struggle. This would be particularly important in preventing overlapping or competing claims to authority. It could also create institutional continuity where political initiatives might otherwise depend heavily on individual leaders. Most importantly, such a Conference could help shift the struggle from dependence upon individual personalities toward organized popular political capacity: a structure through which Southern Cameroonians can deliberate on their future, define the mandate they wish their representatives to pursue, and sustain that mandate despite changes in leadership or political circumstances.

These comparative experiences therefore suggest that the Conference should be understood not as a single event but as the foundation of an enduring political process. Its work should begin with consultation, proceed through representative deliberation, produce institutions and a collective programme, and continue through mechanisms for accountability, periodic consultation, leadership succession, and peaceful dispute resolution.

Conclusion
The history of liberation conferences demonstrates that their greatest contribution is not necessarily the dramatic moment when delegates assemble. Their lasting contribution lies in what they leave behind.
South Africa left a political charter that gave concrete meaning to the aspirations of its liberation movement. Eritrea demonstrated the importance of organizational consolidation and political mobilization. Algeria demonstrated the importance of institutional organization, territorial coordination, and clearly defined political authority, while also showing that institutional arrangements cannot by themselves eliminate political disagreement. India demonstrated the value of connecting dispersed territorial struggles within a common framework. Ghana demonstrated the power of solidarity and international networking. East Timor demonstrated both the possibilities and difficulties of using a representative political forum to move from resistance toward institution-building.

For Southern Cameroons, these experiences suggest that the achievement of a Conference should not be measured primarily by the number of prominent people who attend or by the eloquence of its final declaration. Its significance should be measured by whether it produces legitimate representation, a credible collective mandate, durable institutions, and the political capacity to carry that mandate forward.

The comparative historical lesson is therefore not that Southern Cameroons should copy any one liberation conference. Rather, it should identify the institutional functions that made these conferences consequential and adapt them to its own circumstances. South Africa points to consultation; Eritrea to organizational consolidation; Algeria to institutional architecture and territorial coordination; India to connecting dispersed constituencies; Ghana to solidarity and external networks; and East Timor to the transition from resistance toward institution-building and the management of political competition.

The historical lesson is therefore straightforward: a liberation conference should not merely proclaim unity; it should organize unity. It should not merely articulate aspirations; it should translate them into institutions. It should not merely bring organizations together; it should establish legitimate relationships among them. It should not merely resolve differences temporarily; it should create mechanisms for managing differences peacefully over time. And it should not merely speak about freedom; it should create the political capacity through which a people can peacefully pursue their chosen future. In doing this, collective action is required, not individual action; the combined force of political parties, movements, territorial constituencies, civil society, and the wider community will create the needed political capacity, not isolated political initiatives.

ENVISIONING AN ALL SOUTHERN CAMEROONS CONFERENCE Part II – Fontem Neba

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Wednesday 23 September 2026

ENVISIONING AN ALL SOUTHERN CAMEROONS CONFERENCE

— Lessons We Must Learn from the AACs.

Fontem Neba, PhD
Scholar, Critic & Political and Civil Rights Advocate

Abstract – III
This third paper advances an institutional framework for constituting a new All Southern Cameroons Conference capable of achieving representative legitimacy, political coherence, and long-term institutional sustainability. Drawing critically on the lessons of AAC I and AAC II, it argues that the principal challenge is no longer the capacity to articulate a common political aspiration, but the creation of durable institutions capable of accommodating internal diversity, political disagreement, external pressure, and leadership transition. The proposed model begins with structured consultations across the thirteen divisions and establishes an independent Preparatory Commission to guarantee transparent representation, accreditation, and procedural integrity. It further advocates inclusive participation by women, youth, traditional authorities, civil society, professionals, political organizations, and the diaspora, alongside robust minority protections and accountable decision-making. Particular attention is given to institutional resilience where physical assembly is restricted, including secure electronic participation and a permanent professional Secretariat. The paper ultimately contends that sustainable political unity must be institutionalized rather than personalized.

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Part III — Constituting the Conference and Building a Sustainable Political Mandate

Introduction
It is clear that the central question, after examining the lessons of AAC I and AAC II, is no longer whether the people of the former Southern Cameroons can develop a common political platform. They have demonstrated that capacity before. The more difficult question is how a new All Southern Cameroons Conference can be constituted so that it is sufficiently representative, institutionally credible and resilient to survive the pressures that weakened earlier initiatives.

The answer requires a process rather than a single event. The Conference should:

  • emerge from consultations within the thirteen divisions,
  • draw legitimacy from clearly defined constituencies,
  • establish transparent procedures before major political decisions are taken,
  • and create institutions capable of continuing after the initial gathering.

The Conference should also recognize the realities of the contemporary political environment. Physical assembly may be restricted. Participants may disagree about political objectives. Some delegates may subsequently enter government as it has often been the practice. Others may withdraw or form competing organizations. The diaspora may play a major role. None of these circumstances should be capable of obstructing or destroying the institution or the people’s resolve to work together.

The objective should therefore be to create a political mechanism that can accommodate disagreement without losing its common purpose. Its legitimacy should derive from representation, procedure and accountability rather than from the prominence of its individual leaders.

1. From Consultation to Conference

The first stage should be a broad consultation rather than an immediate attempt to convene a grand political gathering. Each of the thirteen divisions should have an opportunity to identify its principal political, social, economic, cultural and institutional concerns.

These consultations should not be restricted to political elites. They should involve traditional authorities, women, youth, professionals, religious institutions, civil society organizations, business communities, political actors and ordinary citizens. *The purpose should be to discover both the different needs of divisions and the issues that are common to them.

Each division should then develop a written statement of priorities following a given template. These statements would provide the raw material for the territory-wide Conference. The process would consequently begin with local concerns rather than imposing a predetermined political programme from above.

This approach would also provide an important test of the divisional framework. If a common political project is to be credible, it must demonstrate that it can accommodate the concerns of both large and small communities.

2. Establishing an Independent Preparatory Commission

A Preparatory Commission should be established to coordinate the consultations and prepare the Conference. Its legitimacy would be critical because the body organizing the Conference could otherwise become a source of political controversy.

The Commission should therefore be composed of individuals with demonstrable credibility and broad geographic and professional diversity. No individual should control its membership or agenda.

Its mandate should be strictly defined. It should:

  • organize consultations,
  • establish accreditation procedures,
  • prepare draft rules,
  • coordinate communications and
  • determine the practical arrangements for the Conference.
    It should not decide substantive political questions on behalf of the Conference.

This distinction is essential. The Commission should be the servant of the Conference, not its political substitute.

The Commission should also publish its procedures so that communities understand how delegates will be selected and how decisions will be made. Transparency at this stage would help prevent accusations that the Conference was designed to serve a predetermined political faction or agenda.

3. Representation of the Thirteen Divisions

Each division should have guaranteed representation. The exact number of delegates and structure of delegations could be determined through consultation, but the system should avoid allowing population size or financial power alone to determine political influence.

A possible structure would combine equal divisional representation with additional representation for population or special constituencies. This would ensure that smaller divisions cannot simply be overwhelmed while recognizing that larger populations may reasonably expect greater representation.

The important principle is that every division must possess a meaningful voice. No geographical area should feel that it is merely attending a Conference whose political decisions have already been made elsewhere.

Representation should, as much as possible, also be balanced by gender, generation and social background. A Conference dominated exclusively by older male political elites would reproduce the limitations of previous political structures.

4. The Role of the Diaspora

The diaspora should have a significant but carefully defined role. Southern Cameroonians living outside the territory possess substantial professional, financial and intellectual resources and have become important participants in political debates.

However, diaspora participation should complement rather than replace territorial representation. Those living in the diaspora should not acquire disproportionate authority simply because electronic communication makes their participation easier.

The Conference could integrate the diaspora component in a way that serves the thirteen divisions as the foundation of territorial representation. This would recognize the diaspora’s contribution while creating a new form of political balance.

The same principle should apply to international professionals, academics and other experts. Expertise should be welcomed, but
expertise should not automatically become political authority.

5. Representation of Women and Youth

Women and young people should not be treated as symbolic participants. They should have guaranteed representation within the Conference and its committees.

A political institution that claims to represent the future cannot be structured exclusively by those who dominated politics in the past. Women have historically carried substantial social and economic responsibilities within Southern Cameroons communities, while young people will live longest with the consequences of whatever political settlement eventually emerges.

Their participation should therefore include meaningful decision-making roles rather than ceremonial positions.

6. Developing the Conference Charter

Before the substantive political deliberations begin, the Conference should adopt a Charter establishing its institutional principles.

The Charter should define the Conference’s purpose, membership, representation, leadership, decision-making procedures, financial rules, conflict-of-interest provisions, disciplinary procedures and relationship with external organizations.

It should also establish the boundaries of individual authority. No delegate should be able to bind the Conference to an agreement without authorization.

The Charter should be difficult to amend casually. Fundamental changes should require a particularly broad consensus, perhaps including support from a substantial proportion of the thirteen divisions.

This would protect the institution from being redirected by a temporary majority or a powerful individual.

7. Decision-Making: Consensus Without Paralysis

Consensus should be the preferred method for major decisions, but unanimity should not become a requirement for every issue. Requiring every division or individual to agree would allow a small minority to paralyze the institution.

The Conference should therefore establish different thresholds for different categories of decisions. Routine procedural matters could be decided by ordinary majority. Major political positions could require a broader majority and support across a minimum number of divisions. Fundamental constitutional or institutional questions could require an even higher threshold.

This approach recognizes that unity and unanimity are not the same thing. A legitimate institution must be able to disagree and still function.

8. The Question of Political Objectives

One of the most sensitive questions will be the Conference’s substantive political objective. Participants may support different constitutional arrangements, including greater decentralization, federalism, confederation, independence or other forms of political settlement.

The Conference should not predetermine the answer before its constituencies have been consulted. Its legitimacy will depend upon allowing the people represented to deliberate openly.

The initial objective should therefore be to establish the process through which the collective position is determined. The Conference should create the conditions for informed political choice rather than manufacture consensus.

This is particularly important because a political settlement imposed by elites would reproduce the very problem the Conference is intended to solve.

9. Protecting Minority Views

A territory-wide Conference should not become a mechanism through which a majority can simply impose its will on minorities. Divisions and social groups which cut across Divisions must have confidence that their fundamental interests will not be sacrificed.

The Charter should therefore protect minority rights and permit dissenting positions to be recorded. Delegates should be able to disagree with a decision and propose a debatable alternative without being accused of disloyalty to the collective cause.

A mature political institution does not require everyone to think alike. It requires people to accept legitimate procedures for resolving disagreement. This is particularly important for consolidating trust among communities.

10. Engagement With the Government

The Conference should prepare for government engagement without becoming dependent upon government recognition. Its legitimacy should come from its constituencies, not simply from whether the government approves its existence. One of the ways of weakening the Conference is for the government to attempt to snub, disregard or even make it pariah. That will be a sign that the people are on the right path.

At the same time, the Conference should remain open to peaceful dialogue with the government. Its purpose should ultimately be to create a credible mechanism through which political grievances can be addressed.

Any government engagement should occur through designated representatives acting under an explicit mandate. Private negotiations by individual leaders or political elites should not be presented as agreements of the Conference or the people of the Southern Cameroons.

If government offers concessions, the Conference should have procedures for evaluating them collectively through a determined process. If negotiations fail, the institution should remain intact.

The objective should be neither unconditional confrontation nor unconditional accommodation, but mandated political engagement.

11. What If the Government Blocks the Conference?

The possibility of government obstruction should be incorporated into the institutional design from the beginning. If authorities prevent a physical gathering, the Conference should not interpret that as the end of the process.

The preparatory work can continue through divisional consultations, written submissions and electronic meetings. Delegates can deliberate in smaller groups. Committees can continue their work remotely. The eventual Conference can be convened electronically when sufficient preparations have been done, if circumstances do not still permit a physical meeting.

An electronic Conference may therefore serve as a contingency mechanism as well as a primary method of participation.

The crucial principle is that a government should not possess a veto over whether citizens can communicate with one another.

Where lawful and safe, electronic organization can make collective consultation more resilient. It can also connect participants who are geographically separated and allow the institution to maintain continuity during periods of political restriction.

12. The Electronic Conference and Its Limitations

Electronic participation should nevertheless be approached carefully. The Conference must address authentication, digital access, privacy, cybersecurity, connectivity and record-keeping.

Delegates should be verified before participating in formal votes. Important decisions should be recorded and archived. Where electronic voting is used, the system should provide reasonable safeguards against impersonation or manipulation.

At the same time, no technological system should be treated as infallible. The Conference should maintain alternative procedures for participants who cannot reliably access digital platforms.

The electronic model should therefore be hybrid rather than exclusively digital. Physical consultations, divisional meetings, written submissions and electronic deliberations can reinforce one another.

13. A Permanent Secretariat

After the Conference is established, it should create a professional Secretariat responsible for administration rather than political leadership.

The Secretariat should maintain records, coordinate meetings, preserve the institutional archive, manage communications and support the various committees.

Its staff should be selected according to competence rather than political loyalty. The Secretariat should serve successive leaderships rather than become an instrument of whichever faction controls the Conference at a particular moment.

Institutional memory is especially important. The failures of earlier initiatives should be documented, as should the decisions and experiences of the new Conference. Future generations should not have to reconstruct the institutional history from personal recollections.

14. Measuring Success

The Conference should establish measurable indicators of success. These should include the breadth of participation, the degree of divisional representation, transparency of finances, implementation of decisions, public confidence and the ability to maintain institutional continuity.

Success should not be measured simply by whether a declaration is adopted or whether prominent political figures attend. It is not supposed to be a popularity contest, but an opportunity for the people of the Southern Cameroons to articulate their concerns and designs a collective vision.

A Conference that produces a powerful declaration but collapses six months later has achieved less than one that develops a durable institution capable of sustained political engagement.

The real measure should be whether the Conference increases the collective political capacity of the people it represents.

15. The Long-Term Vision

The ultimate objective should be to transform the culture of Southern Cameroons political organization from personality-based politics to institution-based politics.

The history of the past demonstrates the limitations of relying upon individual access to government. A prominent politician may open a door in Yaoundé, but that door can close when the politician leaves office or dies. An institution, by contrast, can preserve a collective mandate across generations and speak for everyone anywhere in the world.

The thirteen divisions provide a practical foundation for such institution-building. They allow local identities and interests to be represented without creating factions. They create multiple centers of political legitimacy while preserving one common framework.

This is the central promise of the new Conference: not to eliminate difference, but to make difference politically useful.

Conclusion

To sum up, a new All Southern Cameroons Conference should be conceived not as another political gathering but as an attempt to correct the institutional weaknesses revealed by AAC I and AAC II. Its legitimacy should begin at the divisional level and rise upward through a
transparent process of consultation and representation.

The thirteen divisions should provide the territorial foundation, while women, youth, traditional authorities, civil society, professionals, political organizations and the diaspora should contribute to a broad and inclusive political process.

The Conference must also anticipate adversity. Government obstruction should not be allowed to end the process. Electronic participation should provide continuity when physical assembly is difficult, while clear procedures should protect the institution from digital manipulation and exclusion.

Political appointments should affect individuals, not constituencies. Leaders should be replaceable. Financial resources should be transparent. Major decisions should require broad support. Minority views should be protected. Negotiations with government should occur only under an explicit institutional mandate.

The ultimate test will be whether the Conference can survive the very pressures that destroyed or weakened earlier collective initiatives. If it can, then AAC I and AAC II will have served their most important historical purpose: teaching a new generation not simply how to unite, but how to build institutions capable of preserving that unity.

The challenge before the people of the former Southern Cameroons is therefore not merely to convene another conference. It is to create a political institution that belongs to the people, represents all thirteen divisions, survives its leaders and provides a credible peaceful mechanism through which a common future can be debated and pursued.

Extracted from my book, Understanding The Southern Cameroons Question: Identity, Grievances and the Search for a Sustainable Future)

Lessons from Ambazonian History – Fontem Neba

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HOW ELITE COMPETITION AND CO-OPTATION WRECKED THE SOUTHERN CAMEROONS’ QUEST FOR INSTITUTIONAL CHANGE

— Lessons for the Present Generation

Fontem Neba, PhD
(Scholar, Critic & Political and Civil Rights Advocate)

Abstract
The political crisis and armed conflict in the former British Southern Cameroons cannot be understood solely through the events of 2016. Its deeper roots lie partly in the failure of political elites during the democratic opening of the 1990s to consolidate the unity of purpose demonstrated by the All Anglophone Conferences of 1993 and 1994. This essay argues that regional elite competition, political co-optation, and the proliferation of organizations such as SWELA, NOWELA, and NOCUDA weakened the collective pursuit of institutional change. Rather than building durable institutions capable of protecting the common interests of the people, influential politicians increasingly competed for access, appointments, resources, and recognition from the central government. The resulting NW–SW divide weakened collective bargaining and allowed longstanding grievances to fester.

The argument does not suggest that every regional organization was inherently illegitimate or that every individual associated with these organizations shared identical motives. Rather, it examines the political consequences of a process in which regional and personal advancement increasingly competed with the broader collective institutional project. The naming of actors is therefore intentional. It is not intended for public lynching, vendetta, or retrospective punishment, but to establish the historical record and allow future generations to examine the decisions, relationships, and political choices that shaped the course of Southern Cameroons history.

Introduction
The contemporary crisis in the former British Southern Cameroons did not emerge suddenly in 2016. Its roots extend through decades of unresolved constitutional grievances, political marginalization, institutional weakness, elite competition, and the inability of the state to establish a durable political settlement acceptable to the people of the former British territory. The events of 2016 should therefore be understood not simply as the beginning of the crisis but as the dramatic eruption of wounds that had been allowed to fester for decades.
One of the most consequential periods in this history was the political opening of the 1990s. The return of competitive politics created an opportunity for Anglophones to articulate their grievances collectively. The All Anglophone Conference in Buea in 1993, commonly referred to as AAC I, and the second conference in Bamenda in 1994, AAC II, represented an extraordinary moment of cross-regional political mobilization. AAC I brought together representatives from across the Anglophone territory to formulate a common position on constitutional reform, while AAC II sought to carry that process forward after the constitutional reform process had stalled.

North Westerners and South Westerners demonstrated that regional identity did not necessarily have to prevent collective political action. They could retain their distinct regional identities while recognizing that their shared institutional interests required a common political strategy.

The tragedy was that this unity of purpose was not consolidated into a durable institutional structure. Instead, sections of the political elite increasingly pursued regional organizations, personal political advancement, access to the central government, and competition for state resources. SWELA, NOWELA, and NOCUDA became associated with an increasingly regionalized political environment. The problem was not the mere existence of regional organizations. South Westerners and North Westerners had legitimate interests that deserved representation. The problem emerged when regional political competition began to displace the broader institutional project.

The central government also had a profound interest in preventing the emergence of a unified political movement capable of sustaining pressure for constitutional change. The mobilization and political awareness generated by AAC I and AAC II demonstrated the capacity of the population to organize across regional lines. That development could not have been comfortable for a highly centralized regime. It is therefore not surprising that CPDM stalwarts within the Southern Cameroons became important actors in the political response to this mobilization. Contemporary accounts of the period describe attempts by regime-aligned actors to distance regional constituencies from the AAC process and opposition to the consolidation of the movement.

The central argument of this essay is therefore that the institutional opportunity created by AAC I and AAC II was progressively weakened when regional competition, elite ambition, and state co-optation displaced the collective pursuit of structural political reform. What had briefly become a common Southern Cameroons political project increasingly became a competition over who could secure greater access to Yaoundé, government appointments, development resources, and political influence.

This argument does not absolve the Biya regime. The central government possessed vastly greater political power and bears primary responsibility for maintaining the centralized system, resisting meaningful constitutional reform, using co-optation as a political instrument, exploiting political divisions, and ultimately responding to renewed Anglophone grievances with repression. But political power does not remove the responsibility of those who claimed to represent the people. Political elites also possessed agency, and their choices had consequences.

The purpose of identifying individual political actors is not public lynching, vendetta, or retrospective punishment. Political history cannot be adequately understood through an anonymous reference to “the elite.” Identifiable individuals occupied positions of influence, founded or promoted organizations, accepted government appointments, interacted with the regime, and participated in political processes whose consequences affected the population. Those facts should be placed before the historical record so that future generations can examine them honestly.

The Lost Moment of Southern Cameroons Unity
The democratic opening of the early 1990s created an opportunity that had not previously existed in the same form. Competitive politics enabled Anglophone grievances to be articulated publicly, while the emergence of the Social Democratic Front created a powerful political vehicle with particularly strong support in the North West and significant support in the South West.

For many Southern Cameroonians, the political question increasingly moved beyond individual representation within the central government. The issue became the structure of the state itself and whether the historical, legal, educational, and institutional distinctiveness of the former British Southern Cameroons could be protected.

AAC I in Buea in 1993 represented perhaps the clearest expression of this collective consciousness. Its significance was not merely that delegates adopted resolutions. Its deeper significance was that North Westerners and South Westerners demonstrated that they could formulate a common political position despite their regional differences. The Buea Declaration was explicitly concerned with adopting a common Anglophone position on constitutional reform.
The conference therefore created something politically important: a common platform through which institutional grievances could be presented as collective grievances rather than as competing regional demands.

AAC II in Bamenda in 1994 sought to consolidate that achievement. The conference considered the stalled constitutional reform process and the execution of the mandate given to the Standing Committee by AAC I. It subsequently reorganized the institutional structure for pursuing the constitutional agenda.

At this point, the central challenge was no longer simply mobilizing the population. It was building an institution strong enough to maintain collective political action. Such an institution could have accommodated legitimate regional differences while preserving a common negotiating position. South Westerners could have demanded safeguards against North West domination, while North Westerners could have demanded corresponding safeguards against South West domination. The answer to regional insecurity could have been institutional design rather than political fragmentation.

Instead, the emerging unity was progressively weakened. Constitutional reform, federalism, institutional guarantees, and collective political rights were increasingly overtaken by regional competition. What had initially been a difference between two regions within a common political community increasingly became a political cleavage that could be exploited by politicians and the central government alike.

SWELA and the South West Elite
The emergence of the South West Elites Association, SWELA, must be understood within this environment. The principal South Westerners associated with fostering SWELA included David M. Iyok, Abraham T. Enaw, Chief Emmanuel Tabe Egbe, Ephraim Inoni, and Chief Fomenky. Their concerns did not arise from nowhere. Many South Western elites believed that the political ascendancy of the North West, particularly through the growing influence of the SDF, could result in South West interests being subordinated.

Regional organization was therefore understandable. The problem was not the desire of South Westerners to organize. The problem emerged when regional organization became increasingly disconnected from the wider institutional struggle. Instead of asking how South West interests could be constitutionally protected within a collective Southern Cameroonian framework, political competition increasingly centered on who could obtain greater influence within the central state.

David M. Iyok played an important role in mobilizing South West elites around the creation of SWELA. Chief Emmanuel Tabi Egbe provided an important social and institutional base for the organization’s early activities, while Abraham T. Enaw and other prominent professionals participated in the effort. Ephraim Inoni was also associated with the mobilization of the South West elite network.

The subsequent political trajectories of several actors illustrate how regional elite organizations became intertwined with the state. Peter Agbor Tabi became Minister of Higher Education in 1994 after an earlier career in academia and administration. Ephraim Inoni, who was associated with SWELA, occupied senior governmental positions, including Secretary of State for Finance, before becoming Deputy Secretary-General at the Presidency and eventually Prime Minister in 2004. John Ebong Ngolle also occupied important administrative and governmental positions. Caven Nnoko Mbele and other South West figures became part of the broader political establishment, while traditional authorities such as Samuel Endeley and Victor Mukete possessed considerable political influence.

These careers do not by themselves establish a single motive among all the actors involved. Their significance lies in demonstrating the mechanism through which the central government could incorporate influential regional elites. Political inclusion occurred at the level of individuals while the institutional grievances of the population remained unresolved. A region could therefore gain ministers, senior administrators, and access to the Presidency without gaining enforceable constitutional guarantees.

Peter Agbor Tabi’s career is particularly illustrative because his government position placed him at the intersection of regional institutional interests and central state authority. Ephraim Inoni’s trajectory is equally significant. His rise from involvement in elite mobilization to the highest levels of government demonstrated that a Southern Cameroonian politician could achieve considerable personal political advancement without the fundamental constitutional question being resolved.

The distinction is important: representation in government could produce visibility and individual influence without necessarily producing institutional empowerment for the population.

NOWELA, NOCUDA, and the North West Political Response
The North West followed a comparable trajectory and fell in the SWELA trap. NOWELA, the North West Elites Association, emerged as a regional counterpart within the broader process of elite organization. Its development reflected legitimate concerns among North West elites about political representation, regional influence, and the changing balance between the two Anglophone regions.

Again, regional organization itself was not inherently destructive. The difficulty was that regional organizations developed at a time when the collective Anglophone political project remained fragile. Rather than strengthening a common institutional structure capable of accommodating regional interests, competing organizations increasingly became instruments through which each region sought to secure its own position.

NOCUDA was equally significant in the fragmentation of the collective project. Its intervention in the period surrounding AAC I and AAC II is important because it occurred at precisely the moment when Anglophone unity was being constructed. The political intervention associated with NOCUDA sought to dissociate the North West from the Anglophone Conference and portray the conference as essentially a South West initiative. Such activity contributed to the political environment in which AAC II faced opposition.

The broader political context is important. AAC I had explicitly presented itself as a rejection of the North West/South West dichotomy and called for Anglophones to resist attempts to divide them. Beads of Memory The emergence of regional elite organizations in opposition to that collective political direction therefore had consequences beyond ordinary elite association.

Simon Achidi Achu became the most visible symbol of North West access to the central state when he became Prime Minister in 1992. His appointment was historically significant and demonstrated that an Anglophone, and specifically a North Westerner, could occupy one of the highest political offices in Cameroon. Yet the appointment also reinforced the logic of elite representation as a substitute for institutional reform.
The broader North West political network included senior officials such as Peter Abety, John Niba Ngu, Francis Nkwain, and Samuel Ngeh Tamfu, among others through whom the regime could demonstrate inclusion. Their individual political careers varied, and they should not all be treated as having identical ideological positions. Their significance lies in the wider political structure: the regime possessed a sufficiently deep pool of Anglophone elites from which it could recruit ministers, governors, diplomats, administrators, and other officials.
The result was a political system in which the President could answer a collective demand for institutional recognition by pointing to individuals appointed to important positions. The implicit message was that Anglophones were not excluded because Anglophones occupied high office.

But representation at the level of individuals was not equivalent to institutional protection for the population. A community could have ministers and still lack meaningful constitutional guarantees. It could have a Prime Minister and still have no effective mechanism for determining the distribution of political authority. It could have governors and senior administrators and still remain dependent upon presidential discretion.

The importance of this episode is not that NOCUDA alone destroyed Anglophone unity. The fragmentation was the product of a wider political process involving regional competition, regime strategy, elite ambitions, and institutional weakness. Its significance is that it demonstrated how quickly a common political project could be reframed as a regional contest.

When Peter Mafany Musonge, a South Westerner, succeeded Achidi Achu as Prime Minister in 1996, the regional balance shifted again. From a regional political perspective, this could be interpreted as a South West victory. But from the perspective of institutional change, little had fundamentally changed. The occupant of the office had changed; the constitutional structure remained.

This alternating pattern illustrated the fundamental weakness of elite politics. North Westerners could celebrate a North Westerner in the Prime Minister’s office. South Westerners could celebrate the subsequent appointment of a South Westerner. But ordinary citizens continued to depend upon presidential appointments rather than enforceable institutional guarantees. Their children could not accede to their dream positions without the intercession of these politicians turned gatekeepers. So, the common people remained marginalized, unemployed, and deprived while the politicians fed fat.

Co-optation and the Politics of Access
The Biya regime proved highly effective at managing political dissent through a combination of repression, patronage, appointments, and co-optation. Co-optation did not necessarily require every politician to become an enthusiastic supporter of the regime. It worked by creating incentives for influential individuals to participate in the existing political system and by making personal access to the Presidency more politically valuable than collective bargaining.

The system was particularly effective because it could recognize Southern Cameroonian individuals while refusing to recognize the full institutional claims of the Southern Cameroons population. A Prime Minister could be presented as evidence of national inclusion. A minister could demonstrate regional representation. A governor could demonstrate administrative participation. A senior official at the Presidency could demonstrate that Southern Cameroonians had access to the highest circles of government.

But elite representation is not the same as institutional empowerment. A community may have ministers and governors and still lack effective constitutional protection. It may have senior officials and still have no meaningful mechanism through which citizens can hold government accountable. It may have powerful politicians and still depend upon the goodwill of those politicians to obtain public services.

This distinction explains why elite competition was so damaging. Politicians increasingly competed for access to the very state whose institutional structure the population wanted changed. Once personal access became politically valuable, collective bargaining became more difficult. A unified Anglophone institution could demand structural reform. Competing elites could instead negotiate separately for appointments, development projects, influence, and recognition.

The regime consequently did not need to defeat every Southern Cameroonian political leader. It needed only to make individual political advancement sufficiently attractive to weaken collective action.

The Consequences for Ordinary People
The consequences of this political fragmentation were not merely abstract. Ordinary citizens experienced the effects through weakened institutions, unequal development, declining trust, and the absence of durable mechanisms for addressing longstanding grievances. Regional associations could mobilize scholarships, development projects, cultural programmes, and assistance to communities. These achievements should not be dismissed. The organizations could and did provide benefits to individuals.

Yet there is a fundamental distinction between benefits delivered through patronage and rights protected by institutions. A politician who obtains a road for a community through personal access may help that community, but the arrangement does not guarantee that the next community will receive similar treatment, nor that the road will be maintained after the politician leaves power.

A scholarship obtained through an elite network assists the beneficiary who receives it but can also reinforce dependence upon political access. A ministerial appointment may give a region visibility, but it does not provide constitutional protection. The common man was therefore encouraged to look toward the politician who could “take the problem to Yaoundé” rather than toward institutions through which citizens could demand that the problem be addressed as a matter of right. Such an arrangement might produce an individual road, scholarship, appointment, or government intervention, but it did not create equal opportunities for all or durable institutional guarantees.

Viewed specifically through the question of collective institutional change, the political effect of SWELA, NOWELA, and NOCUDA was therefore NEGATIVE, notwithstanding whatever developmental or representational benefits they may have provided.

The Emergence of the NW–SW Divide
The NW–SW divide did not emerge simply because North Westerners and South Westerners possessed different identities. Those differences had existed long before the 1990s without preventing collective Anglophone political mobilization.

The divide became politically consequential when regional differences were increasingly transformed into competing political constituencies. The population was gradually encouraged to view political success through a regional lens. Which region had more ministers? Which region controlled more administrative positions? Which region had greater influence in the Presidency? Which region benefited more from state resources?

These questions increasingly displaced the larger question: What institutions should protect all of us?
This was one of the most consequential effects of elite competition. AAC I and AAC II had demonstrated that the two regions could act together. Regional political competition demonstrated that they could also be separated.

The consequences continued long after the original political actors had moved into different positions or even left the stage. Distrust accumulated. Historical grievances were reinterpreted through regional narratives. Political competition acquired a social dimension, making it increasingly difficult to restore the kind of common institutional purpose that had characterized the AAC period. |

By the time teachers, lawyers, students, civil society organizations, and ordinary citizens returned to the streets in 2016, the institutional capacity that might have enabled a peaceful collective response had been greatly weakened. The grievances had not disappeared. They had accumulated beneath the surface.

The Cost of Losing the AAC Opportunity
It cannot be established with certainty that a different political course in the 1990s would have prevented the armed conflict that emerged decades later. The Biya regime possessed enormous political power and could have rejected federalism or other reforms even in the face of a united Southern Cameroons movement. Nevertheless, there are strong grounds for arguing that the political trajectory could have been different.
AAC I and AAC II generated an unusual level of political mobilization and awareness. They brought North Westerners and South Westerners together around common constitutional grievances and demonstrated that the population could act collectively across regional boundaries. This development inevitably alarmed a regime committed to preserving the centralized order. It is therefore not surprising that the ruling CPDM deployed its stalwarts from within the Southern Cameroons to weaken the unity created by the AAC, encourage regional divisions, and ultimately rewarded them with co-optation or access to power.

The political logic was straightforward: a unified movement capable of negotiating collectively posed a greater institutional challenge than competing regional elites negotiating separately with Yaoundé. As the collective movement weakened, individual political access became more valuable, while institutional guarantees remained elusive. Had AAC I and AAC II been consolidated into a transparent, representative, and accountable movement, it could have preserved collective bargaining, managed NW–SW differences, and prevented government appointments from becoming substitutes for constitutional reform.

The counterfactual argument is not that unity would have guaranteed peace. It is that its preservation could have strengthened peaceful political pressure and improved the prospects for a negotiated constitutional settlement. That was the historic opportunity lost.

The Moral and Philosophical Dimension
At its deepest level, this history concerns the moral obligations of political leadership.
Political authority is a form of stewardship. Leaders who claim to represent a people inherit its political capital, aspirations, trust, and collective struggles. That capital belongs to the people, not to individual politicians.
The central question is therefore whether political actors use collective resources to build institutions that endure beyond their tenure or convert them into personal influence, access, and temporary political advantage.
This distinction is particularly important where access to state resources depends upon personal relationships. A politician may secure a road, scholarship, appointment, or government intervention and thereby provide an immediate benefit. But such patronage does not create durable political rights. The stronger measure of leadership is what institutions remain after the politician leaves office.

The naming of political actors in this essay is therefore deliberate. It is not an invitation to public lynching, vendetta, or retrospective punishment. Political history requires identifiable actors, decisions, organizations, and relationships to be examined openly. The evidence should establish the historical record; the reader can draw his or her own conclusions.

Ultimately, the issue is one of collective responsibility and intergenerational stewardship: whether political leaders leave behind stronger institutions and greater political freedom, or weakened institutions and continued dependence on personal access.

Lessons for the present generation
The history of SWELA, NOWELA, and NOCUDA reveals a painful truth: a people may possess a powerful common aspiration and still lose it when their political elites place personal ambition, regional rivalry, self-seeking opportunism and access to power above institution-building. AAC I and AAC II demonstrated the possibility of Anglophone unity; what followed demonstrated how easily that unity could be fractured by elite competition and political co-optation. The Biya regime bears primary responsibility for preserving a centralized system, exploiting divisions, and leaving fundamental grievances unresolved. Yet political elites cannot escape responsibility for failing to protect the collective political capital entrusted to them.

The lesson for the next generation must therefore be uncompromising. Never again should political office be mistaken for political liberation, patronage for rights, or regional representation for institutional protection. No minister, prime minister, governor, or influential politician should become a substitute for institutions that belong to the people.

Regional identities must be respected, but never weaponized against a common purpose. Any future collective project must be built on transparency, accountability, equity, equality, and institutional safeguards capable of surviving individual ambitions. History has delivered its warning. The next generation must decide whether to inherit the politics of division or build institutions strong enough to transcend it. The true measure of leadership is not the power one acquires, but the institutions one leaves behind.

Ambazonian Intelligence – No qualifying Candidate for LRC VP!

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Ambazonian Intelligence has committed some effort on figuring out why The Vice Presidency in La République du Cameroun remains vacant. Analysis suggests there is no suitable candidate for the purposes. There are many ifs and buts, all pointing the wrong way.

Who would be the best VP for La République du Cameroun?

There isn’t an objectively “best” person to be Vice President of La République du Cameroun. The answer depends on the goals and values being prioritised.

One way to think about it is by asking what problems a vice president would be expected to help solve:

  • National unity: La République du Cameroun has significant political, linguistic, and regional divisions. Some would argue a vice president should be someone capable of building trust across Francophone and Anglophone communities.
  • Democratic reform: Others might prioritise a leader with a reputation for strengthening institutions, transparency, and accountability.
  • Economic development: Some would favour a person with strong experience in business, finance, infrastructure, or public administration.
  • Peace and conflict resolution: Given tensions in the Anglophone regions, many would view experience in negotiation and reconciliation as a crucial qualification.
  • Generational renewal: Others believe younger leadership could bring new perspectives and long-term planning.

Rather than focusing on a specific individual, a useful exercise is to identify the qualities that would make an effective vice president:

  1. Integrity and public trust.
  2. Ability to work across political and ethnic divides.
  3. Administrative competence.
  4. Commitment to constitutional governance.
  5. Experience in economic and social development.
  6. Capacity to represent all La République du Camerounians fairly.

If your interest is specifically in La République du Cameroun’s political future, we could go deeper and explore whether a vice presidency could help address the Anglophone crisis and broader governance challenges.

What role could a VP play in National Unity?

A Vice President can play a significant role in national unity, but much depends on the powers of the office and the individual holding it.

In a country like La République du Cameroun, where there are regional, linguistic, ethnic, and political divisions, a Vice President could contribute to unity in several ways:

1. Symbolic Representation

One common approach in divided societies is to ensure that the President and Vice President come from different regions, linguistic communities, or political backgrounds.

For example:

  • A Francophone President and an Anglophone Vice President.
  • A President from one region and a Vice President from another.

The idea is not simply to balance identities, but to ensure that major groups feel represented at the highest level of government.

2. Acting as a Bridge Between Communities

A Vice President could spend considerable time:

  • Consulting local leaders.
  • Listening to grievances.
  • Facilitating dialogue.
  • Building trust between communities and the central government.

In countries facing internal tensions, these relationship-building functions can be as important as formal executive duties.

3. Leading National Reconciliation Efforts

Where there has been conflict or political mistrust, a Vice President might oversee:

  • National dialogue processes.
  • Truth and reconciliation initiatives.
  • Constitutional reform consultations.
  • Programmes for reintegration and reconstruction.

Such efforts can help transform disagreements from violent confrontation into political negotiation.

4. Giving Marginalised Regions a Voice

A Vice President with constitutional authority could ensure that concerns from neglected regions receive direct attention within government decision-making.

For example, they might:

  • Chair intergovernmental committees.
  • Review development priorities.
  • Monitor implementation of decentralisation policies.
  • Report directly to both parliament and the President.

5. Providing Political Stability

In many countries, a Vice President serves as a constitutional successor if the President is unable to continue in office.

This reduces uncertainty because the country knows who will assume leadership. Stability can itself be an element of national unity, especially during crises.

The Challenge

A title alone does not create unity.

If a Vice President is perceived as merely symbolic, lacking influence or independence, the office may have little impact. Conversely, a respected and capable Vice President with genuine authority can become an important national figure who helps build confidence across political and social divides.

A Deeper Question

For La République du Cameroun specifically, an interesting constitutional question is whether national unity would be better served by:

  • A powerful Vice President,
  • A Prime Minister with stronger authority,
  • Greater federalism or regional autonomy,
  • Or a combination of all three.

Each model tries to address the same fundamental issue: how to ensure that diverse communities feel they have a meaningful stake in the state.

Given your interest in sovereignty, self-determination, and the Anglophone question, we could next examine how vice-presidential arrangements have been used in countries such as Nigeria, Kenya, South Africa, and Ethiopia, and what lessons they might offer for La République du Cameroun.

What about the pervading impression that the PM has no influence in LRC? How ow would a VP fare any better and what would become of the PM?

That’s a very interesting constitutional question, and it gets to the heart of why simply creating a Vice President’s office may not change much.

If we assume the current highly presidential system remains unchanged, then a Vice President could easily end up in the same position as the Prime Minister: prestigious title, limited independent authority.

The Real Issue Is Not the Title

In political systems, power comes from the constitution and political practice, not from the name of the office.

Consider three possibilities:

Scenario A: Current system + Vice President

  • President retains all major executive powers.
  • Vice President is appointed by or dependent on the President.
  • Vice President can only act when authorised.

In this model, the Vice President may be little more than a successor-in-waiting. National unity might benefit symbolically, but actual influence would be limited.

Why a VP Could Still Be More Important Than the Prime Minister

A Vice President often differs from a Prime Minister in one crucial respect:

Succession.

If the presidency becomes vacant:

  • The Vice President automatically succeeds the President (in many systems).
  • A Prime Minister often does not.

This gives a Vice President greater political weight, because:

  • They are a recognised national leader.
  • They may have their own political base.
  • Government officials know they could become President tomorrow.

Even without extensive formal powers, succession can make a Vice President a much more influential figure than a Prime Minister.

What Would the Prime Minister Do?

That depends on the constitutional design.

Model 1: Prime Minister as Chief Administrator

The President:

  • Sets national policy.
  • Leads defence and foreign affairs.
  • Makes major political decisions.

The Prime Minister:

  • Coordinates ministries.
  • Oversees implementation.
  • Supervises government programmes.
  • Chairs cabinet meetings when delegated.

This resembles a “chief operating officer” role.

Model 2: Prime Minister as Head of Government

In countries like the UK, the Prime Minister is effectively the most powerful political figure.

The President, where one exists, is often largely ceremonial.

This would require a major constitutional transformation.

Model 3: Shared Executive Power

Some countries divide authority:

President:

  • National security.
  • Foreign policy.
  • Constitutional guardian.

Prime Minister:

  • Domestic policy.
  • Economic management.
  • Day-to-day government administration.

This creates checks and balances but can also produce conflict between the two offices.

The La République du Cameroun-Specific Question

From what you’ve implied, many observers would argue that the fundamental challenge in La République du Cameroun is not the absence of a Vice President but the concentration of power in the presidency.

If nearly all meaningful decisions ultimately flow from the President, then:

  • A Prime Minister has limited scope.
  • A Vice President would likely have limited scope.
  • Governors, regional authorities, and local councils may also be constrained.

Under that analysis, adding a Vice President without redistributing powers might change appearances more than governance.

National Unity Implications

Suppose La République du Cameroun introduced:

  • A Francophone President.
  • An Anglophone Vice President.

Many people would welcome the symbolism.

But some would then ask:

“Does the Vice President actually have the authority to influence policy affecting Anglophone regions, or is the position mainly ceremonial?”

If the answer is “very little authority”, dissatisfaction could remain.

That is why many constitutional scholars distinguish between:

  • Representation (having a seat at the table), and
  • Power-sharing (having genuine decision-making authority).

Representation can promote inclusion. Power-sharing usually has a stronger effect on long-term unity because groups feel they can shape outcomes rather than merely be represented.

In other words, a Vice President could help national unity, but only if the office carries meaningful constitutional authority. Otherwise, it risks becoming what critics already say about the Prime Minister’s office: visible, but not decisive.

The only meaning candidate, to justify Mr Biya deploying some much capital would also be the least acceptable, given he would not meet any of the objective criteria.

Archbishop Nkea’s Vision for Peace in Anglophone Regions

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As the new school year approaches in Ambazonia many stake-holders are dusting off their contributions to the situation. The (church) has long sought to intervened albeit hampered by their implication by the LRC’s patronage control mechanisms. The church’s relationship with La Republique du Cameroun’s regime casts a shadow over any initiatives, which is not lifted by the fact that the entirety of the scheme seems to be aimed at influencing on the “Anglophones”.

Apparently Bamenda’ Catholic Arch Bishop, His Grace Andrew Nkea, is looking to embark on a catechism of peace and hope in “the Anglophone regions” of Cameroun.

Many sources refer to the scheme, under which, it implies, a booklet of a hundred questions and answers will help children and youths in “affected by the Anglophone Crisis”, to adapt and to hope.

Actual documentations is scant and Ambazonia News must declare that we have not caught site of the actual documents. However, Aid to the Church in Need (ACN International) details reports on the catechism’s purpose, structure (100 Q&A), and context, pastoral challenges, kidnappings, community responses, and the catechism’s educational aims.

  • The Tablet (Catholic international journalism) contextualises the catechism within broader Church efforts to embed Pope Leo XIV’s peace message.

In His Grace’s previous speeches figures of 8,000–10,000 deaths; 800,000–1,000,000 displaced are cited at some stages of the conflict. At the five years stage, school closures were decried to have created a “generation deeply marked by conflict”, enduring kidnappings and other violence towards priests and bishops by local youths.

Ambazonia News searched for evidence of plans to extend the peace catechism to the “whole of Cameroun”, a logical step in a plan to encourage dialogue as a route to peace but there were no resources implying any such ideas had been expressed.

Ambazonia News would humbly request a look at the booklet and notice of any schemes to broaden the scheme, assuming (probably wrongly?) that this catechism of peace is aimed at producing more integrated and empathetic future population either side of the Mungo.

Ambazonia News is of the view that most, if not all of the break-down of the “Independence-by-joining” was due to a lack of synchronised understanding of the process and systems. While the Founding Fathers relied of faith and the good will of the “brother East Cameroun”, East Cameroun had a different intention. Arguably, the catechism of peace could fare better, targetting the formative stages of the two, clearly still-divided peoples. On Ambazonia News’ part, we take it for granted, as might His Grace in issuing the booklets to launch the scheme, that the people either side of the Mungo are inclined to follow that path, and that it would only lead anywhere if uniformly, fairly and faithfully followed on both side.

If it is not being put to both sides then it is actually a call to silence and endurance and turning the other chick, yet again asking “Anglophones” to resort to the faith which proved unfounded over a long time, and which, ten years of brutal repression prove was utterly dangerous and naive.

Ambazonia News accepts His Grace’s vocation and instinct towards peace but would humbly point out that it would be more successful and credible if balance and fair in asking all parties in an inclusive self-reflection rather than attempting to train one side to endure while the other continues the same [errors] schemes of the past.

It is arguable that Catechism of Peace is needed even if it turns out that both sides need to accept the reality that they must accept just being good neighbours rather than shoe-horned by repressive means into an unworkable, because unfair and untenable divided-in-practice, but united-by-unpopular-decree.

Catechism of Peace should expand to all regions for a peaceful future as good neighbours. Peace is peace.