The IG has issued a report on a recent visit by President Marianta Njomia to meet the grassroots in Belgium.
The report:
President Marianta Njomia’s Diplomatic and Mobilization Mission in Aarschot, Belgium, Ignites Hope for the Liberation of Southern Cameroons/Ambazonia. The struggle for the independence of Southern Cameroons (Ambazonia) continues to gain international awareness! President Marianta Njomia, the visionary leader of the Interim Government of the Federal Republic of Ambazonia, completed a diplomatic and community mobilization visit to Belgium on October 23, 2026. The President’s diplomatic and community mobilization mission comes months after her participation at the African Queens Summit in Oxford University, London on August 17 and 18, 2026, where she briefed international stakeholders on the ongoing war in Southern Cameroons. President Marianta Njomia arrived at Brussels International Airport on the evening of October 22, 2026, from London under strict security protocols. Her Excellency was received by the delegation led by the Secretary of State for Home Affairs and Community Mobilization, Comrade Marcel Daba, and our patriot and frontline activist Akaba Eric. The President held an immediate briefing at the airport to outline her diplomatic schedule set for the following day in the Belgian Capital, before being escorted to her hotel in Brussels. Strengthening the Diaspora in Aarschot President Marianta’s diplomatic activities occurred in Brussels, while her mobilization tour took place on the evening of Friday, October 23, in the city of Aarschot. Aarschot remains historically significant for the freedom of the Southern Cameroons, as it previously hosted President Marianta Njomia in April 2023 during the All Anglophone Activist Conference. The mobilization meeting in Aarschot began at 6:00 p.m., with about 35 patriotic Ambazonians attending in person, while several Southern Cameroonians participated via a live broadcast on Zoom. The atmosphere in Aarschot was one characterized by a sense of unity. When President Marianta Njomia entered the meeting room, the participants greeted her with a standing ovation. This was followed by opening prayers and a collective singing of the Southern Cameroons/Ambazonia national anthem. President Marianta, in her address to both in-person attendees and those watching via Zoom, reminded us of our identity and praised our collective resilience, financial sacrifices, and determination to fight against the illegal occupation of Southern Cameroons by the République of Cameroun. A Blueprint for Unity and Accountability During the question-and-answer session, a participant asked how the Interim Government plans to bridge gaps and build lasting trust within the liberation movement. President Njomia confidently outlined the structural pillars necessary for total liberation. ➢ Action and Accountability (AA): Ensuring transparent governance and measurable progress. ➢ Building Bridges (BB): Fostering dialogue and reconciliation across different community groups. ➢ Complementary Commitment (CC): Actively involving the different communitties in frontline liberation efforts. A Shared Commitment to Freedom The mobilization meeting concluded with participants declaring their continued support for the struggle to liberate Southern Cameroons/Ambazonia. President Marianta Njomia concluded the evening expressing her profound gratitude to Southern Cameroons/Ambazonians and made a firm promise that “together, we will relentlessly push the diplomatic frontiers until Southern Cameroons achieves full independence”. Short live the liberation struggle, long live the Federal Republic of Ambazonia!
Fontem Neba, PhD Scholar, Critic & Civil and Political Rights Advocate
27 October 2026
Abstract The recent community dialogue hastily started by the Prime Minister is the focus of the present essay. It questions whether these consultations can deliver lasting peace without addressing the underlying political grievances of Southern Cameroons. Drawing on the 2019 Major National Dialogue, the refusal to authorise Cardinal Christian Tumi’s Anglophone General Conference (AGC), and renewed calls for a Southern Cameroons Conference, the essay interrogates the relationship between grassroots participation, political accountability, and substantive negotiations. It argues that community dialogue can reduce local tensions and rebuild trust but cannot independently resolve fundamental constitutional and political disagreements. Sustainable peace requires transparent implementation of previous commitments, accountable representation, institutional reform, and an inclusive, credible Pan Southern Cameroons conference capable of advancing meaningful negotiations towards a durable political settlement.
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The Paradox of Delayed Peacebuilding
There is a peculiar form of political failure that deserves a name: weaponized incompetence. It occurs when those entrusted with responsibility know—or ought to know—what needs to be done but behave as though the problem is beyond their understanding. They evade difficult questions, shift responsibility, and hope that those they have failed will eventually become too exhausted to demand answers.
This concept offers a useful lens through which to examine Southern Cameroons’ political elite serving within the government and parliament of La République du Cameroun, particularly their participation in initiatives intended to engage communities in the Northwest and Southwest Regions. When political representatives are called upon to engage their constituents, the fundamental question is whether they can articulate their grievances, advocate meaningful remedies, and account for their results.
We have heard the familiar excuse: “You know we cannot discuss this issue because it will land us in trouble.” Yet political office is a responsibility, not merely a privilege. Representation without advocacy is an empty title, while participation without accountability risks becoming political theatre.
The problem extends beyond individual politicians to the design of Cameroon’s peacebuilding process, the implementation of institutional reforms, and the absence of a sufficiently credible pathway towards a durable political settlement.
The Cart Before the Horse
The community dialogue initiative launched across the Northwest and Southwest Regions in September and October 2026 deserves serious consideration. Traditional authorities, religious leaders, women, young people, civil society organisations, business operators, displaced persons, and other affected groups need meaningful opportunities to identify grievances, negotiate practical arrangements, and rebuild trust.
Yet a crucial question remains: why is Cameroon organising community dialogue seven years after the Major National Dialogue of 2019, when the national process should itself have incorporated meaningful consultations with the communities most affected by the conflict?
The Major National Dialogue was held in Yaoundé from 30 September to 4 October 2019. It considered decentralisation, the special status of the Northwest and Southwest Regions, education, justice, bilingualism, and national cohesion. Its recommendations contributed to Law No. 2019/024 of 24 December 2019, establishing the legal framework for regional and local authorities, including special-status arrangements for the two regions.
Yet neither the dialogue nor the subsequent legislation brought the conflict to an end. A genuinely participatory process should listen to affected communities, document their grievances, identify shared priorities, and establish how their concerns will influence national decisions. Although national dialogue need not always follow community consultations, a process addressing a deeply rooted political conflict must incorporate meaningful grassroots participation.
Connecting Community Dialogue to the National Dialogue
In addition to the question of sequencing lies a more important issue: how does the government intend to connect the 2026 community dialogue to the outcomes of the 2019 National Dialogue? Will the current consultations assess the implementation of earlier recommendations, continue that process, or operate as an entirely separate exercise? More importantly, what mechanisms will ensure that new recommendations influence government decisions?
If recommendations from 2019 remain incompletely implemented, what guarantees exist that the concerns raised in 2026 will receive a different response? Will the government publish an assessment of previous commitments, identify outstanding recommendations, and explain delays? Will new recommendations be incorporated into an implementation framework with defined responsibilities, timelines, and public accountability? Without clear answers to these questions, those who believe will once again be sent on a wild goose chase.
The government must also clarify how recommendations beyond the authority of local administrators will reach institutions capable of addressing them. When communities raise constitutional questions or demand negotiations over political arrangements, will their concerns be referred to a recognised negotiating mechanism, or merely recorded in administrative reports?
A dialogue process cannot be judged solely by the opportunity it gives people to speak. Its credibility depends on the response to what they say. Without a transparent connection between community recommendations, national decision-making, and measurable implementation, the initiative risks reproducing the frustration it is intended to alleviate.
Community Dialogue as the Beginning, Not the Destination
Community dialogue can facilitate civilian movement, improve access to schools and markets, reduce local tensions, and establish channels for resolving disputes before they escalate. In a conflict that has devastated livelihoods, disrupted education, and displaced families, every life protected matters. Nevertheless, managing a conflict’s consequences is not the same as resolving its causes.
Community dialogue cannot, by itself, settle disagreements over constitutional authority, regional autonomy, the distribution of political power, or the political future of Southern Cameroons. The involvement of governors, divisional officers, traditional rulers, and other representatives does not automatically make a process illegitimate. The more important questions concern its mandate, independence, inclusiveness, and accountability.
Can participants discuss the historical and political dimensions of the conflict without intimidation? Are dissenting perspectives represented, and will authorities publish substantive responses to the grievances raised? These questions are important because consultations that invite people to speak without creating credible avenues for change may deepen rather than restore public confidence.
There is also a legitimate concern that community dialogue could inadvertently—or deliberately—deflect pressure from broader political negotiations. Deliberate intent cannot be established from timing alone, but the possibility that local consultations might be presented as sufficient progress deserves scrutiny. A process should be judged by the grievances it addresses, the commitments it secures, the authority behind those commitments, and the changes communities actually experience—not by the number of meetings held or the seniority of officials chairing them.
A Pattern of Political Pre-emption?
The timing of government-led dialogue initiatives in relation to independent Southern Cameroonian political consultations raises questions about whether these initiatives complement grassroots political mobilisation or risk displacing it.
In 2019, Cardinal Christian Tumi sought government permission to convene the Anglophone General Conference (AGC), but the government refused to grant that permission. The refusal raised questions about the space available for independent political consultation at a time when the conflict demanded serious engagement with Anglophone grievances and aspirations.
This decision is relevant to the present debate. If the government promotes dialogue through its own administrative structures while refusing permission for an independently organised conference intended to facilitate broader consultation, it becomes necessary to ask why initiatives outside government control do not receive the same openness.
What principles determine which consultations are permitted, which are restricted, and whose participation is considered legitimate? A credible peacebuilding process should allow independent political consultations to contribute to resolving the conflict rather than allowing government sponsorship to become the implicit test of legitimacy.
Granted that the refusal to authorise the AGC does not, by itself, establish that the subsequent Major National Dialogue was not designed to obstruct independent political mobilisation. Or that the 2026 community dialogue was not intended to pre-empt a new Southern Cameroons Conference. How does the government explain these coincidences beginning in 2019?
As calls for a new Southern Cameroons Conference gain renewed attention in 2026, the introduction of government-led community dialogue definitely invites scrutiny. The essential question is whether each initiative expands the space for meaningful political engagement or postpones the difficult conversations needed to reach a peaceful settlement.
Community dialogue and a broader political conference address different but complementary needs. The former can help communities restore trust and improve immediate circumstances; the latter could examine underlying grievances, political authority, and institutional arrangements. The danger arises when the government tries to present one as a sufficient answer to demands for the other.
Political Representation as a Trust
Political representation is a moral relationship between those entrusted with authority and the people in whose name that authority is exercised. In The Social Contract, Jean-Jacques Rousseau explored the relationship between political authority and the collective will of the people. Although his theory cannot simply be applied to contemporary Cameroon, it raises a relevant question: how can political authority claim legitimacy when those subject to it believe their fundamental concerns are not adequately represented?
Southern Cameroonian representatives serving within Cameroon’s government and parliament may have opportunities to advocate reforms, influence policy, and raise their constituents’ concerns. Their efforts may also be constrained by party discipline, institutional hierarchies, constitutional arrangements, and political pressures. Such constraints deserve acknowledgement, but they make transparency and accountability more necessary, not less.
A representative who cannot secure reform should explain what was attempted, what obstacles were encountered, and what alternatives remain available. Those who disagree with particular political aspirations should state their positions honestly rather than conceal them behind vague assurances. The moral failure begins when the appearance of representation is maintained while the substance of responsibility is abandoned.
This is where weaponized incompetence acquires its political significance. When individuals knowingly evade responsibilities while retaining the privileges associated with public office, incompetence becomes a means of avoiding accountability.
Persistent silence, particularly when representatives have undertaken to advocate specific reforms, can undermine public confidence. Where officials fail to explain their actions or constraints, they create conditions in which suspicion of political abandonment becomes increasingly difficult to dispel.
Such suspicion should not automatically be treated as proof of deliberate betrayal. Representatives may face institutional constraints, political pressure, or limitations on their authority. Nevertheless, they remain responsible for communicating honestly with the people they claim to represent. They should explain their efforts, obstacles, results, and remaining options.
People have the right to question their leaders when they remain silent or fail to act. However, suspicion alone does not prove that a leader has deliberately avoided responsibility. Such a conclusion must be supported by clear evidence of their actions or inaction. Leaders can build public trust by being transparent, explaining their decisions, acknowledging their limitations, and being honest about both their achievements and failures.
Why a New Southern Cameroons Conference is important
A new Southern Cameroons Conference should complement everything that has been going on, by discussing and taking a stand on substantive issues. The refusal to grant Cardinal Christian Tumi was denied the opportunity in 2019. However, a credible peace process must allow affected communities to articulate their aspirations through diverse channels, not only forums organised or controlled by the government.
Such a conference should address the historical roots of the conflict, the distribution and exercise of political authority, institutional guarantees, accountability, security, and possible frameworks for a durable settlement. It must establish a credible pathway from consultation to negotiation, from negotiation to agreement, and from agreement to implementation.
This requires inclusive representation, a clear negotiating mandate, realistic timelines, monitoring mechanisms, and clarity about how relevant authorities and stakeholders will engage with the outcomes.
The tragedy of institutional failure is that it transfers the burden onto the people institutions are supposed to serve. When dialogue produces no meaningful response and representatives fail to explain their actions, frustration deepens and public confidence erodes.
Persistent grievances do not automatically justify violence, and frustration does not excuse attacks on civilians. Nevertheless, authorities should not assume that people will abandon political demands simply because they have become exhausted. Exhaustion is not reconciliation, silence is not consent, and temporary calm is not proof of lasting peace.
Conclusion
Community dialogue can mitigate the effects of conflict – save lives, reduce local tensions, and rebuild trust, but it cannot independently resolve the conflict’s underlying political disagreements. Its legitimacy and effectiveness depend partly on whether community priorities inform an inclusive and credible process of substantive political negotiation.
The government must explain how the recommendations of the 2026 consultations will connect to the 2019 National Dialogue and influence actual decisions and how everything put together will resolve the conflict in a sustainable way.
The philosophical foundation of this essay is straightforward: political authority is a trust, not merely a possession. From Rousseau’s concern with legitimate authority to the broader principle that public power should serve the common good, political institutions must be judged by whether they respond to the people whose lives they govern. Representatives, accordingly, must account for their actions, acknowledge their constraints, and demonstrate that their positions serve a purpose beyond personal or institutional preservation.
Southern Cameroons needs more than dialogue that manages discontent. It needs meaningful institutional reform, accountable representation, and a credible process for negotiating a lasting peace. History will judge today’s representatives not by the positions they occupied, but by what they did—or failed to do—with the responsibility those positions entrusted to them.
The Southern Cameroons movement, for its part, would be making a grave strategic blunder if it fails to conduct its own consultations to develop a clear, representative, and well-informed position for future negotiations. The world is now waiting to see; they have heard enough.
Fontem Neba, PhD Scholar, Critic & Civil and Political Rights Advocate
Abstract This essay critically examines Prime Minister Joseph Dion Ngute’s reported forecast that the Southern Cameroons conflict could persist for another 10 to 15 years before dying a natural death. It interrogates the political implications of this prediction, particularly government accountability, the limitations of the 2019 Major National Dialogue, and the failure to resolve underlying political grievances. The essay argues that prolonged conflict cannot be addressed through time, exhaustion, or institutional reforms alone. It advocates an inclusive, inter-Southern Cameroonian political dialogue and meaningful negotiations with Cameroun as essential pathways towards a durable settlement, reconciliation, and sustainable peace.
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The Politics of Waiting
There is something profoundly disturbing about a government contemplating another 10 to 15 years before a conflict within its own territory might disappear. It is even more disturbing when the conflict has already consumed human lives, disrupted education, displaced families, destroyed livelihoods, and condemned an entire generation to uncertainty. When Prime Minister Joseph Dion Ngute suggests that the conflict in Southern Cameroons could “die a natural death,” citizens are entitled to ask whether their government is pursuing peace or simply waiting for the people to become too exhausted to demand it.
The Prime Minister’s reported remarks in Buea on 28 September 2026 raise fundamental questions about the effectiveness of government initiatives, the limitations of the 2019 Major National Dialogue, and the political responsibilities of leadership towards a population that has endured years of suffering.
If another 10 to 15 years pass, the conflict that escalated in 2016 could extend into approximately 2036–2041. For a child growing up amid insecurity, this is not an abstract political forecast but a substantial portion of a lifetime. For a displaced family, it could mean another decade without a permanent home. For young people whose education has been interrupted, it could mean entering adulthood without opportunities that should have been available. For Southern Cameroonians whose political future remains contested, it could mean another decade without credible answers to fundamental questions about governance, institutional identity, and political authority.
The Prime Minister may have intended to describe a possible outcome rather than announce official government policy. Nevertheless, this distinction does not remove the obligation to explain the reasoning behind the forecast or identify measures intended to prevent it from becoming reality. If the statement is a warning, what action does it demand? If it reflects the limitations of existing policies, what will change? And if it is merely a prediction, why should the population accept another decade of uncertainty as a reasonable prospect?
The fundamental concern is whether the government has become so accustomed to managing the conflict that its eventual disappearance is being treated as a substitute for resolving it. Conflicts may end through negotiated settlements, military victories, political transformations, or exhaustion. These outcomes are not equivalent. The disappearance of armed resistance does not necessarily mean that the grievances sustaining it have been addressed. Peace by exhaustion may produce silence, but silence is not necessarily reconciliation.
What the Forecast Really Implies
The Prime Minister’s reported forecast raises questions about whether the government’s existing approach offers a credible pathway to a durable settlement. Seven years after the Major National Dialogue of 2019, the prospect of another decade or more of conflict invites scrutiny of what that process accomplished, what it left unresolved, and what lessons have been learned.
The forecast also risks normalising prolonged suffering. When another decade of uncertainty becomes a publicly contemplated possibility, an extraordinary humanitarian and political crisis may gradually be treated as an ordinary condition of national life. The urgency of resolution gives way to the management of a conflict expected to persist indefinitely.
Another implication concerns the distribution of responsibility. The population is repeatedly expected to endure the consequences of insecurity, displacement, interrupted education, economic decline, and uncertainty. Yet the institutions possessing the authority to initiate substantial political change must explain why these burdens continue and what they intend to do differently.
The forecast also raises questions about government credibility. A government that has convened a national dialogue, introduced institutional reforms, and pursued security measures must be prepared to explain why the conflict persists and what its next steps will accomplish that previous initiatives have not.
The question is not whether earlier initiatives produced any results. It is whether those results have been sufficient to resolve the underlying dispute.
Finally, the forecast forces a distinction between the reduction of violence and the achievement of peace. Roads may reopen, markets may become busier, schools may resume classes, and combatants may surrender. These developments matter because they can save lives and restore livelihoods, but they do not automatically resolve disagreements over political identity, governance, or the structure of the state.
The government must therefore clarify what it expects to die a natural death: the fighting, the armed movements, the grievances, or the political dispute itself. Unless these are distinguished, a decline in armed activity may be mistaken for a settlement that has not actually been achieved.
The Unfinished Business of the Major National Dialogue
The implications of the Prime Minister’s forecast become clearer when examined against the Major National Dialogue held in Yaoundé from 30 September to 4 October 2019. The dialogue was presented as an important initiative for resolving the crisis, addressing decentralisation, the special status of the Northwest and Southwest Regions, education, justice, bilingualism, and national cohesion.
Its recommendations contributed to the adoption of Law No. 2019/024 of 24 December 2019, which established the legal framework for regional and local authorities, including special-status arrangements for the two regions. These developments should not be dismissed. Institutional reforms can have practical value, and special-status arrangements represented a significant development in regional governance.
Nevertheless, the key question remains: Did the dialogue resolve the political dispute that produced the conflict, or merely introduce institutional measures within which the dispute continued? Before the government convened the Major National Dialogue, efforts were already under way to bring Southern Cameroonians together to deliberate on the crisis and develop proposals for resolution. Cardinal Christian Tumi and other religious leaders had pursued an Anglophone General Conference. The All Southern Cameroons People’s Conference, held in April 2019, also sought to encourage deliberation across political divisions and identify possible pathways towards a sustainable settlement.
Yet representatives of the All Southern Cameroons People’s Conference were not invited to participate in the Major National Dialogue, and the conference’s collective position was not formally considered within that process. Although individual Southern Cameroonians may have participated, individual participation is not equivalent to formally considering the resolutions of an existing conference or engaging with its collective political proposals.
This exclusion raises a fundamental issue about inclusiveness. How could a process claim to address the crisis comprehensively while leaving out the position developed by a conference specifically convened to discuss the political future of Southern Cameroons?
The sequence also raises the suspicion that the government’s process displaced earlier initiatives by transferring the principal forum for determining the response to the conflict to a dialogue convened and controlled by the central government. At minimum, the national dialogue proceeded without first establishing a broadly agreed internal position among Southern Cameroonians on the fundamental questions at stake.
The constitutional framework adds another dimension. Article 62(2) of the 1996 Constitution provided for legislation to take account of the specificities of certain regions in their organisation and functioning. The special-status arrangements recommended in 2019 therefore drew on a constitutional mechanism that existed before the conflict escalated in 2016.
This chronology raises a legitimate problem: did the dialogue open the fundamental political settlement to reconsideration, or channel the crisis towards a mechanism already available within the existing constitution of Cameroun?
Some Southern Cameroonians believe that the constitutional provision envisaging special status was intended to anticipate unrest following the All Anglophone Conferences or predetermine the outcome of any dialogue if or when it was convened. Nevertheless, it reinforces the need to examine whether the dialogue genuinely opened the political questions at stake to meaningful consideration.
A process can produce legislation without resolving the political dispute that made such legislation necessary. If special status was considered an adequate response, the government must explain why it did not produce a durable settlement. If it was intended as an initial step, the government must identify the further political measures required. If fundamental constitutional questions were excluded, citizens are entitled to ask where and when those questions will be addressed.
The Implicit Admission of Failure
The Prime Minister’s reported 10–15-year forecast carries an uncomfortable implication: it raises the question of whether the pathway established after the Major National Dialogue has proved insufficient to deliver a durable settlement.
This is not a formal admission of failure, nor does the forecast establish that every policy pursued since 2019 has been ineffective. Rather, it makes it necessary to assess the relationship between the dialogue’s stated objectives, its institutional outcomes, and the continued existence of the conflict.
If the measures adopted after 2019 had established an effective pathway towards a settlement, why is another decade or more being contemplated before the conflict might disappear? What assumptions have proved inadequate? What lessons have been learned? What will the government now do differently? These are questions of political accountability, not merely speculation about the future.
A government cannot point to the existence of reforms as proof of peace when the fundamental dispute remains unresolved. Nor can it invoke the complexity of the crisis indefinitely without explaining how that complexity informs its strategy. The persistence of the conflict requires an assessment of the government’s approach, including whether it has adequately addressed the political grievances that successive initiatives have failed to settle.
The Prime Minister may intend his forecast as a warning about the difficulty of resolving the crisis. But a warning about prolonged conflict also demands an account of the measures being taken to prevent that outcome. The public deserves to know what milestones will demonstrate progress, which political questions will be addressed, and how the government intends to prevent another generation from inheriting the same dispute.
Otherwise, the forecast risks becoming an implicit acknowledgement of impotency without the corresponding explanation of responsibility, lessons learned, and corrective action. Extending the anticipated duration of a conflict is not a new strategy, and predicting its eventual disappearance does not discharge the obligation to resolve it.
Weaponized Incompetence: When Failure Becomes a Forecast
The concept of weaponised incompetence offers a useful, though critical, framework for examining the political implications of the forecast. It describes a pattern in which failure to fulfil an expected responsibility shifts burdens onto others or allows difficult obligations to be avoided.
Applied to conflict resolution, it raises the question of how persistent non-resolution can become normalised, with the population bearing the consequences while the institutions responsible continue to fall short.
A conflict escalates, the government introduces measures intended to address it, those measures do not produce a durable settlement, and the population continues to suffer. The public is then presented with the prospect that the conflict may eventually disappear through the passage of time.
At what point does persistent failure to resolve a problem require political accountability? When does the government acknowledge that its existing approach may be inadequate and accept the responsibility to change it?
The difficulty of a problem does not eliminate the obligation to address it. The greater the consequences, the greater the need for clear objectives, measurable progress, and accountability.
The danger is that the endurance of the population is being used as an implicit resource in the management of the conflict. Families are expected to endure, young people are expected to abandon violence, and communities are expected to survive prolonged insecurity while fundamental political questions remain unsettled.
Yet the surrender of weapons cannot by itself guarantee that the grievances associated with the conflict will disappear. Nor can the passage of time establish that a political settlement has been achieved.
The government possesses institutional powers and political responsibilities that ordinary citizens do not. If the existing approach has not secured a durable settlement, the obligation is to explain what must change. The Prime Minister’s forecast should therefore be the beginning of that examination, not the end of it. A government should not convert the persistence of a problem into a justification for allowing it to persist.
An Inter-Southern Cameroons Dialogue Before Negotiations
Southern Cameroonians do not share identical political aspirations. Some favour independence, others advocate federal arrangements, and others support different forms of political and institutional reform. These differences cannot be wished away, nor should any organisation presume to speak for everyone.
I have severally argued in previous essays for an inclusive internal political dialogue, mediated by Southern Cameroonians themselves, through which participants can deliberate on their differences, identify shared priorities, and agree on key issues, including a credible negotiating position.
The objective would be to establish what can be agreed upon, what remains contested, and how those differences should be represented in subsequent negotiations. External negotiations become more difficult when the people whose future is at stake have not had sufficient opportunity to deliberate among themselves.
An internally developed negotiating position would not eliminate disagreement, but it could establish clearer priorities and a more transparent basis for engagement with the government of Cameroon.
A Southern Cameroons Conference could form part of this broader conversation. The essential distinction is that internal dialogue and external negotiations serve different purposes. The former helps Southern Cameroonians deliberate on their priorities and prepare a negotiating position; the latter provides a forum for addressing the substantive issues in dispute with the other party.
The government cannot resolve disagreements among Southern Cameroonians on their behalf, nor should it assume that an administrative arrangement within the existing constitutional framework necessarily settles the political questions they wish to address. An internally driven process would provide a more credible basis for political engagement without requiring every participant to agree on every aspect of the future.
This is not an argument for postponing negotiations until every disagreement has been resolved. Rather, it is an argument for ensuring that negotiations are informed by meaningful consultation, credible representation, and a clear understanding of the issues requiring resolution.
The Future Will Judge the Present
Prime Minister Dion Ngute’s reported 10–15-year forecast raises a fundamental question: will the government pursue a credible political settlement, or allow another generation to inherit unresolved grievances?
Seven years after the Major National Dialogue, the prospect of another decade of conflict demands an honest assessment of the measures adopted, the questions left unanswered, and the government’s willingness to change course.
Security measures can protect civilians, and institutional reforms can address important concerns. But neither can guarantee lasting peace while fundamental political grievances remain unresolved. The government must demonstrate that its policies are directed towards a durable settlement rather than the indefinite management of violence.
Southern Cameroonians must have the opportunity to deliberate among themselves, reconcile their differences, identify shared priorities, and develop a credible negotiating position. The government, meanwhile, must explain why previous initiatives have proved insufficient and demonstrate how its present approach will deliver a settlement that addresses the causes of the conflict.
The Prime Minister’s forecast should therefore be treated not as an acceptable timetable for peace but as a challenge to political leadership. If another 10 to 15 years of conflict is considered possible, the government must explain what it will do to prevent that outcome. It must identify the political obstacles to resolution, acknowledge the limitations of previous measures, and demonstrate a credible commitment to addressing the fundamental issues in dispute.
A government cannot escape responsibility by predicting that a conflict will eventually end. It remains accountable for the suffering its policies create, the opportunities for peace it squanders, and the consequences of decisions it postpones.
Waiting for a conflict to die is not a peace strategy. The true test of political leadership is not whether a government can predict when a conflict might disappear, but whether it possesses the courage, imagination, and political will to address the reasons it began. Ensuring that another generation has no reason to inherit this conflict is the true test of political leadership.
A Critical Reflection on Leadership, Unity in Diversity, and the Institutional Foundations of Liberation
Fontem Neba, PhD Scholar, Critic, Political and Civil Rights Advocate
Abstract
This rejoinder to Ambassador Tibor Nagy’s call for a John Garang figure in the Southern Cameroons liberation struggle examines the relationship between visionary leadership, unity in diversity, and institutional development. It argues that John Garang should be understood not only as an individual leader but also as a metaphor for the capacity to unite people across differing political orientations around a common purpose. Drawing lessons from South Sudan, the Continental Congress of the thirteen American colonies, and other liberation movements, the essay emphasizes the importance of representative institutions, accountable leadership, and organized collective action. It advocates an inclusive All Southern Cameroons Conference capable of coordinating cooperation, managing and sustaining unity, and warns against dependence on a political Messiah.
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A Tribute to Ambassador Tibor Nagy
Ambassador Tibor Nagy deserves the appreciation of the people of Southern Cameroons for his courageous advocacy for their cause for freedom. At a time when their suffering and political aspirations have struggled to command sustained international attention, his willingness to speak out has helped keep the Southern Cameroons question alive in international discussions.
His rhetorical remarks about the need for a John Garang figure in the Southern Cameroons liberation struggle deserve serious consideration. By asking who our John Garang is, Ambassador Nagy raises a question that extends beyond the search for a charismatic leader. His metaphor invites us to examine our capacity to forge unity in diversity despite our different political orientations, strategic preferences and visions of the future. Our moral and political dilemmas in the last nine years are sufficiently instructive.
We may pursue different political objectives and disagree over leadership, strategy, negotiations and our eventual political destination. Nevertheless, these differences need not prevent us from recognizing a shared concern: the liberation and political future of our people. Unity does not require us to think uniformly, and cooperation does not require total ideological conformity.
The point I am making is that, Southern Cameroons needs both visionary leadership and an inclusive institution capable of organizing our diversity into meaningful collective action. John Garang’s experience offers lessons about leadership and political mobilization, while the Continental Congress of the thirteen American colonies and the experience of other liberation movements demonstrate the importance of collective organization. We need leaders, but we must not make our future dependent on a political Messiah especially given the character failures and decisional errors in our recent past.
1. John Garang: Leadership, Vision and Political Organization
John Garang de Mabior (1945–2005) was the founding leader of the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement and Army (SPLM/A), established in 1983 during the Second Sudanese Civil War. He developed the vision of a New Sudan, initially advocating the transformation of the Sudanese state rather than limiting his political objective to southern independence.
Garang helped establish the SPLM/A as a major political force and played a central role in negotiations that produced the Comprehensive Peace Agreement of January 2005. The agreement established a framework for power-sharing and a referendum on self-determination. Following his death in a helicopter crash in July 2005, the referendum proceeded in January 2011, and South Sudan became independent on July 9 that year.
Garang’s contribution points up the importance of political vision, organizational capacity, international engagement and negotiation. Yet his achievements were not his alone; they also depended on other political actors, negotiators and international mediators.
For Southern Cameroons, Garang’s significance should therefore extend beyond the search for an individual with comparable charisma. His name can also symbolize the capacity to articulate a common purpose and bring diverse constituencies together. The question is whether we can cultivate these qualities collectively while ensuring that leadership remains accountable.
2. John Garang as a Metaphor for Unity in Diversity
The search for a Southern Cameroons John Garang can be understood at two levels. At the individual level, it concerns the need for leaders who can inspire confidence, communicate political objectives and coordinate collective efforts. At the collective level, it raises a more fundamental question: can Southern Cameroonians work together across political differences without requiring everyone to embrace the same objectives? That was the case with John Garang. He led the movement, but his political opinion was the minority one.
Our political community contains different perspectives on the struggle, its strategy and its eventual outcome. These differences cannot simply be wished away, nor should their existence make cooperation impossible. The challenge is to distinguish between disagreements that require debate and shared interests that provide a foundation for collective action.
Unity in diversity means preserving legitimate political differences while recognizing a shared responsibility toward the future of our people. It does not require every organization to abandon its identity or every individual to surrender deeply held convictions. It requires a willingness to identify common ground, establish mutually acceptable procedures and cooperate where our interests converge.
No single individual can manufacture durable unity on behalf of an entire people. Such unity must be cultivated through mutual recognition, agreed principles and institutions that allow different voices to participate. If the John Garang metaphor is to have enduring significance for Southern Cameroons, it must represent not only exceptional leadership but also our collective capacity to forge common purpose across political divisions.
3. The Difficult Lessons from South Sudan
South Sudan’s independence did not guarantee political stability. A devastating civil war began in December 2013 amid political rivalries, unresolved grievances and institutional weaknesses. These developments do not diminish Garang’s historical contribution, nor should subsequent problems be attributed to a leader who died before independence. They nevertheless demonstrate that achieving independence and establishing stable, accountable government are separate challenges.
Southern Cameroons must therefore look beyond the identity of a future leader and consider how authority will be exercised, how disagreements will be resolved and how institutions will survive changes in leadership. A prominent individual cannot automatically eliminate internal divisions or guarantee democratic governance.
The lesson is that leadership must operate within a durable institutional framework. A leader may help bring a movement to a critical political moment, but lasting political freedom also requires accountable institutions, transparent decision-making and a political culture capable of managing differences peacefully.
4. The Continental Congress: An Institutional Alternative
During the American War of Independence, the thirteen American colonies which revolted against British control established the Continental Congress as a common political institution. It coordinated important aspects of the revolutionary effort, including diplomacy, finance and military appointments. In 1775, the Congress appointed George Washington as commander-in-chief of the Continental Army, distinguishing military command from the central political institution.
The arrangement was imperfect. The colonies had competing interests, the Congress faced serious organizational and financial difficulties, and the early American political system excluded many people from equal participation. Nevertheless, the experience illustrates how representatives can coordinate a collective struggle without requiring all participating constituencies to become identical in their interests and preferences.
The Continental Congress did not eliminate disagreements; it provided a forum in which representatives could deliberate, negotiate and make decisions. Southern Cameroons should examine this principle rather than attempt to reproduce the American system mechanically.
The American experience is not the only example of organized collective action in a struggle for freedom. Across Africa and Asia, liberation movements developed political parties, national councils and broad-based coalitions to mobilize populations and advance their aspirations.
5. Lessons from Other Liberation Movements
I have discussed these examples in a previous essay and so will only do a reminder here. In India, the Indian National Congress became a major vehicle of the independence movement, mobilizing diverse constituencies around the end of British colonial rule. In Eritrea, the Eritrean Liberation Front and the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front played central roles in the independence struggle, while divisions among liberation organizations demonstrated the importance of managing internal disagreements.
In East Timor, the National Council of Timorese Resistance helped bring together different political constituencies around the objective of ending Indonesian rule. In Ghana, Kwame Nkrumah’s Convention People’s Party mobilized mass support for independence, while South Africa’s African National Congress and broader formations such as the United Democratic Front connected political leadership with extensive networks of organizations and communities resisting apartheid.
These movements differed in their structures, strategies and historical circumstances. Their experiences should not be romanticized or copied mechanically. Nevertheless, they demonstrate that liberation struggles have often depended on organized movements, political networks and collective mobilization, rather than on one charismatic leader alone.
The lesson for Southern Cameroons is to study how these movements organized their constituencies, articulated common objectives and attempted to manage political differences. We need an institutional model suited to our own circumstances, one that allows people and organizations with different orientations to deliberate, identify shared interests and coordinate action without surrendering their convictions.
6. Turning Unity into Practice
An All Southern Cameroons Conference could provide a common platform for translating these lessons into practice. Its purpose should not be limited to identifying a leader or proclaiming unity; it should establish credible procedures for representation, deliberation, collective decision-making and accountability.
In previous discussions, I have stated that the Conference should establish transparent criteria for participation and representation, ensuring that no individual or organization automatically claims to speak for the entire people because of its visibility, resources or influence. Different perspectives must have meaningful opportunities to participate in decisions affecting the collective political future.
I have also previously stated that the Conference should recognize disagreement as a normal feature of political life. Participants may differ over political objectives, strategies and future arrangements, but these differences should be addressed through debate, mediation and agreed procedures rather than automatically interpreted as betrayal. Unity that depends on silence is fragile; cooperation grounded in honest discussion has a stronger foundation.
I also addressed issues like leadership, diplomacy and financial management, pointing clearly that they must operate under well defined mandates. Representatives should communicate agreed positions, negotiators should remain accountable to the institution, and financial contributions should be managed transparently. No individual should acquire unlimited authority because of personal popularity, military standing, wealth or international connections.
Finally, the All Southern Cameroons Conference should practise the principles it hopes to see reflected in future self-government: inclusion, accountability, respect for procedures and peaceful dispute resolution. Its success would depend not on eliminating political differences but on managing them while enabling meaningful collective action.
7. What Kind of Leadership Does Southern Cameroons Need?
The choice should not be reduced to having a John Garang figure or having no strong leadership at all. Southern Cameroons needs individuals capable of articulating a clear vision, inspiring confidence, negotiating responsibly and working across divisions. It also needs institutions that coordinate different constituencies, define mandates, manage disagreements and hold leaders accountable.
A visionary leader can help people understand a common purpose, while an inclusive institution can translate that purpose into collective decisions. Leaders should exercise initiative without making the movement dependent on their personalities, and spokespersons should communicate agreed positions rather than substitute personal opinions for collective decisions.
We must also accept that cooperation does not require agreement on every political question. Our task is to identify shared interests, clarify areas of disagreement and establish procedures through which collective action can proceed without forcing everyone to abandon their political identity.
The Way Forward
The conclusion we must draw is that Southern Cameroons should build an institution capable of uniting and guiding our leaders, both now and in the future.
Ambassador Tibor Nagy’s advocacy deserves recognition, and his call for a John Garang figure has given us an opportunity to reflect on our leadership and institutional needs. Garang’s experience demonstrates the importance of political vision, organization and negotiation, while South Sudan’s subsequent difficulties remind us that leadership and independence alone cannot guarantee stable, accountable government.
The Continental Congress and other liberation movements offer complementary lessons about organizing collective action across diverse constituencies. Southern Cameroons should examine these experiences and develop an institutional model suited to our own circumstances. An All Southern Cameroons Conference should provide a common platform through which people with different political orientations can work together to overcome the challenges of previous liberation movements.
We should welcome visionary leaders, but we must not wait for a Messiah before organizing ourselves. The responsibility for building unity cannot be delegated to one individual. For a people who have experienced our kind of oppression, making our collective future dependent on a single personality would be an especially dangerous gamble. Our political survival and future freedom require an institution capable of managing differences, sustaining cooperation and holding leaders accountable.
Southern Cameroons needs leaders who can inspire unity, institutions that can organize diversity, and a political culture that enables people with different orientations to work together toward a shared future. Let us build an institution that produces and guides effective leaders, holds them accountable and serves the people it represents. We need leadership that serves the institution, an institution that serves the people, and unity broad enough to accommodate the diversity of our political aspirations.
A POST-WAR VISION FOR THE NEW SOUTHERN CAMEROONS CONFERENCE:
Organizational Red Flags, Infiltration Risks and Institutional Safeguards.
_Fontem Neba, PhD
_Scholar, Critic & Political and Civil Rights Advocate_
Abstract
This paper examines the risks that could weaken a future All Southern Cameroons Conference and suggests ways to protect its independence and credibility. Drawing lessons from AAC I, AAC II and other liberation conferences, it identifies ten warning signs, including unclear representation, personal control, hidden funding, unauthorized talks and poor record-keeping. It also discusses possible signs of government infiltration while stressing that suspicion is not proof. The paper recommends clear rules for delegate selection, financial accountability, information security, leadership oversight and conflict resolution. These safeguards can help build trust, unity and strong institutions for Southern Cameroons’ post-war political and developmental future.
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Introduction
We have earlier said that a new All Southern Cameroons Conference, if convened, should be understood as more than another political gathering. It will provide an important opportunity for Southern Cameroonians to develop a cohesive political, organizational and developmental framework for the post-war era. After years of conflict, communities will need to learn, or relearn, how to coordinate their interests, work together, establish rules for collective action, identify the consequences of the war, and develop immediate, medium- and long-term responses to political, economic, social and humanitarian challenges. The Conference could also provide a legitimate mechanism for determining how Southern Cameroonians engage with the Government of Cameroon and other external actors.
We have also previously noted that the experience of AAC I and AAC II demonstrates both the possibilities and vulnerabilities of territory-wide political organization. AAC I brought representatives from the thirteen divisions together in Buea in 1993, while AAC II followed in Bamenda in 1994. Contemporary historical records document both the breadth of representation and the difficulties surrounding the conferences and their relationship with government. The lesson for a future Conference is therefore not merely that Southern Cameroonians can unite, but that *unity must be protected by institutions, procedures and accountability.*
However, the Conference must also recognize that uncertainty, fragmentation and competing claims to representation can weaken collective political organization. Some Southern Cameroonians believe that previous initiatives were obstructed, divided or subjected to government influence. Such claims should be approached with circumspection. The appropriate response is therefore not suspicion of every participant, but the construction of institutions in which manipulation becomes difficult and allegations can be independently verified.
This is especially important because the presence of Southern Cameroonians in government does not, by itself, demonstrate that the underlying political, economic and developmental aspirations of the population have been achieved. We must not confuse appointments and administrative positions with broad improvements in roads, employment, industries, hospitals, housing, education, infrastructure and living standards. A future Conference should therefore concentrate on collective institutional capacity rather than individual access to government.
The Conference Must Protect Its Own Institutional Integrity
The greatest danger may not be an obvious attempt to destroy the Conference. It may be a series of seemingly minor organizational weaknesses that gradually produce confusion, mistrust, factionalism and loss of institutional authority. Historical accounts of AAC I show that organizers faced difficulties securing an appropriate venue, while AAC II was convened partly to assess the consequences of the suspension of the constitutional reform process and the performance of the Standing Committee. These experiences underline the importance of designing institutional safeguards before political pressure arises.
The following ten organizational red flags should therefore be treated as matters requiring attention. None is, by itself, proof of government infiltration. Their importance lies in the pattern they may reveal and in the institutional weaknesses they expose.
1. Unclear or Manipulated Representation
The first major red flag is uncertainty about who actually represents a division or constituency. If delegates are selected privately by a small group, if established procedures are repeatedly changed, or if prominent individuals are allowed to appoint themselves as representatives, the Conference becomes vulnerable to capture.
Representation should originate from clearly identified constituencies. There should be transparent procedures for selecting delegates, documenting their mandates and replacing them when necessary. The question should always be: *Who does this person represent, who selected them, and what authority have they been given?*
2. Excessive Personality Politics
A second red flag appears when the Conference begins revolving around personalities rather than institutions. If one individual becomes indispensable, controls information, dominates meetings, appoints committees, *speaks externally without authorization* or presents personal views as Conference positions, institutional independence is already weakening.
Leadership should therefore be temporary, accountable and replaceable. No individual should possess authority simply because of age, wealth, political history, government experience or international connections. *The Conference should be stronger than its leaders.*
3. Sudden Attempts to Change the Agenda
Another warning sign is the unexplained alteration of the Conference’s agreed agenda shortly before or during major deliberations. A Conference established through broad consultations should not suddenly abandon the issues that communities mandated delegates to discuss.
Agenda changes should require transparent procedures and recorded justification. Emergency matters may arise, but they should not become a mechanism for a small group to introduce predetermined political outcomes without adequate consultation.
4. Pressure to Avoid Documentation
Institutions become vulnerable when important decisions are deliberately kept off the record. A demand that meetings should not produce minutes, mandates, voting records, financial reports or written agreements should be treated seriously.
Transparency does not mean exposing sensitive personal information. It means maintaining sufficient institutional records to establish what was decided, by whom, under what authority and through what procedure. Without documentation, competing individuals can later claim that the Conference authorized almost anything.
5. Unexplained Financial Dependence
Financial vulnerability is another significant red flag. A Conference dependent upon one wealthy individual, one political organization, one foreign sponsor or an undisclosed source of funding may eventually find its independence compromised.
The institution should establish transparent financial rules from the beginning. Contributions should be recorded, significant donors disclosed where appropriate, expenditures audited and conflicts of interest declared. Financial support should never automatically confer political authority.
6. Private Negotiations on Behalf of the Conference
A particularly serious organizational weakness occurs when individuals begin negotiating with government or other external actors without a clearly defined mandate.
Dialogue with government is not inherently problematic. Indeed, a credible political institution should have the capacity for peaceful engagement. The danger arises when private conversations are presented afterwards as agreements of the Conference or as commitments binding its constituencies.
All external negotiations should therefore be conducted by authorized representatives under written mandates, with reporting requirements and procedures for accepting or rejecting proposals.
7. Deliberate Division Along Regional or Social Lines
Another red flag is the systematic attempt to turn legitimate differences between divisions, communities, generations or social groups into permanent political hostility.
The thirteen-division framework is valuable precisely because it can provide a structure in which different communities retain their identities while participating in one institution. AAC I itself was documented as representing all thirteen divisions, making territorial representation an established historical reference point.
Disagreement should therefore be expected and legitimate. What should be resisted institutionally is the transformation of disagreement into permanent exclusion, intimidation or competing claims that some Divisions are dominant. However, we must avoid accepting tasks we don’t understand or cannot execute just because we want to create a balance. Southern Cameroonians must learn to turn down requests they cannot handle.
8. Sudden Delegation Expansion Without Verification
A further red flag is unexplained growth in the number of delegates, observers or organizational representatives without corresponding verification procedures.
Large participation can strengthen legitimacy, but unverified participation can create confusion about voting rights and institutional authority. *The Conference should distinguish delegates, observers, advisers, technical experts and invited guests.* Each category should have clearly defined rights.
9. Attempts to Weaken the Preparatory Commission or Secretariat
If a Preparatory Commission is created to establish procedures, its independence must be protected. Attempts by individuals or organizations to bypass the Commission, alter its membership without due process or prevent it from publishing accreditation rules should receive careful scrutiny.
The same principle applies to the Permanent Secretariat. Administrative personnel should maintain institutional records and procedures irrespective of which political faction controls the leadership at a particular moment.
10. Pressure for Immediate Decisions Without Adequate Consultation
The final red flag is pressure to make major irreversible decisions before delegates have had sufficient opportunity to consult their constituencies.
Urgency can be legitimate during political crises, but urgency can also be exploited to prevent careful deliberation. Major decisions should have defined thresholds, written proposals, opportunities for amendment and clear voting procedures. The Conference should never confuse speed with legitimacy.
SIGNS THAT MAY INDICATE POSSIBLE GOVERNMENT INFILTRATION
Government infiltration is a serious allegation and should never be inferred merely from someone’s political position, geographic origin, government employment, disagreement with the majority, or participation in dialogue. A Southern Cameroonian who works in government is not automatically an agent of government influence. Likewise, disagreement with Conference policy is not evidence of infiltration.
The following are therefore *indicators requiring verification*, rather than proof of infiltration.
1. Repeated Attempts to Obtain Unauthorized Access
If an individual repeatedly seeks access to confidential preparatory documents, delegate lists, internal correspondence or sensitive deliberations without a legitimate institutional role, the matter should be investigated through ordinary access-control procedures.
The appropriate response is not accusation. Access should be limited according to role, sensitive material should be distributed on a need-to-know basis, and unusual requests should be documented and reviewed.
2. Persistent Efforts to Identify or Expose Participants
Another concern would be systematic attempts to obtain information that could expose participants to unnecessary political, legal or personal risks. Such activity should be distinguished from legitimate administrative registration.
The Conference should collect only information genuinely necessary for accreditation and administration, protect personal data, and establish clear rules governing who may access participant information.
3. Attempts to Manufacture Internal Distrust
A possible warning sign is a recurring pattern of unverified allegations designed to turn delegates against one another. This might include claims that particular divisions have secretly reached agreements, that certain leaders have betrayed the Conference, or that particular groups are preparing to abandon the institution, without credible evidence.
The proper response should be verification rather than retaliation. An independent ethics or dispute-resolution mechanism should examine serious allegations before they become political weapons.
4. Pressure to Abandon Institutional Safeguards
Particular attention should be given to attempts to persuade the Conference to remove transparent accreditation, financial controls, voting procedures, conflict-of-interest rules or reporting requirements.
Such safeguards protect everyone, including participants who may be wrongly suspected. Their removal would make genuine infiltration and ordinary political manipulation harder to distinguish.
5. Unexplained Relationships Between Internal Decisions and External Government Actions
A pattern in which confidential internal discussions are repeatedly followed by government actions that appear unusually well informed may warrant an institutional security review.
However, correlation is not proof. Information can leak through many ordinary channels. The correct response is to examine document access, communication procedures and information-handling practices rather than immediately identifying a supposed culprit.
6. Attempts to Create a Parallel Chain of Authority
A further warning sign would be the emergence of an unofficial structure claiming to give instructions to delegates independently of the Conference’s constitutionally established leadership.
The Conference should make its decision-making hierarchy explicit from the beginning. No individual, government office, political party, traditional authority, diaspora organization or external institution should be able to issue binding instructions to delegates unless the Conference’s rules expressly provide for such authority.
7. Persistent Efforts to Provoke Premature Collapse
If particular actors consistently push the Conference toward walkouts, expulsions, procedural breakdowns or irreversible confrontation whenever disagreement arises, the pattern should be examined objectively.
Again, disagreement itself is not evidence of infiltration. A healthy institution will contain genuine critics. The relevant question is whether a recurring pattern of conduct is undermining established procedures without a legitimate institutional purpose.
How the Conference Should Respond
The best response to infiltration risk is not paranoia. It is *institutional resilience*. A strong institution makes infiltration less consequential because no individual possesses enough unchecked authority to capture the organization.
a) The Conference should establish an independent Ethics, Compliance and Institutional Integrity Committee. Its members should have clearly defined terms, conflict-of-interest rules and authority to investigate credible complaints. It should report to the Conference rather than to individual leaders.
b) The Conference should establish a documented accreditation system. Delegates should be verified against mandates issued by their constituencies, while observers and advisers should be clearly distinguished from voting delegates.
c) Sensitive information should be protected through ordinary organizational security practices. Access should be based on institutional role, important records should be preserved, and confidential information should not be circulated unnecessarily.
d) Allegations should be handled through evidence and due process. A person should not be expelled, publicly denounced or deprived of participation merely because another delegate suspects them of being an agent. False accusations can destroy trust just as effectively as genuine infiltration.
e) Financial independence should be treated as political independence. The Conference should maintain audited accounts, publish appropriate financial reports and prevent undisclosed financial relationships from influencing institutional decisions.
f) External engagement should be centralized through a transparent mandate. Government dialogue, international engagement and communication with political organizations should be conducted by designated representatives whose authority is documented and whose actions are reported back to the institution.
g) The Conference should establish succession mechanisms before the first major crisis occurs. If a leader resigns, accepts government office, becomes unavailable or loses the confidence of the institution, another properly authorized person should be able to assume the role without destabilizing the entire organization.
h) The Conference should institutionalize disagreement. Delegates should be able to challenge decisions without being branded enemies of the people. Minority reports, recorded dissent, appeals and reconsideration procedures can prevent political disagreement from becoming organizational warfare.
Preparing for the Post-War Era
The deeper purpose of these safeguards is not simply to protect a conference from government interference. It is to prepare Southern Cameroonians for the responsibilities of political and institutional life after war.
The war has created enormous challenges that cannot be solved through political declarations alone. Communities will need to consider reconstruction, displaced populations, destroyed infrastructure, education, health services, employment, agriculture, industry, housing, local government, security, reconciliation, public finance and the restoration of social trust.
These problems require planning across divisions and generations. They also require mechanisms for negotiating with government and other actors while maintaining a clear mandate from the people represented.
A Conference that cannot maintain its own records, manage disagreement, protect finances, verify representation and survive leadership changes will struggle to manage the far more complex responsibilities of reconstruction and political transition.
The Conference should therefore be viewed as a school of institutional democracy. Its procedures should demonstrate the kind of political culture it hopes to create: accountability instead of personality worship, evidence instead of rumor, representation instead of self-appointment, consultation instead of unilateralism, and peaceful disagreement instead of fragmentation.
Conclusion
A new Southern Cameroons Conference could become an important instrument for political coordination, post-war planning and institutional renewal, but its success will depend less upon the prominence of those who attend than upon the quality of the institutions they establish. The historical experience of AAC I and AAC II shows the importance of representation, mandate and continuity, while the broader comparative experience of liberation conferences demonstrates that unity must be organized rather than merely proclaimed.
The key lesson here is therefore vigilance without paranoia. Organizational red flags should be identified early, possible infiltration should be investigated through evidence and due process, and institutional safeguards should make individual manipulation difficult. No person should be above the rules, but no person should be condemned without evidence. If Southern Cameroonians can build a Conference capable of surviving disagreement, leadership changes, external pressure and political uncertainty, they will have begun constructing something more valuable than a single gathering: an enduring institution capable of coordinating their collective political and developmental future.
The Legal and Political Imperatives of an All Southern Cameroons Conference: A Rejoinder
By McFarlane Njoh, J.D.
Introduction
Dr. Fontem Neba has provided a thoughtful analysis of the political trajectories of the former British Southern Cameroons and of the lessons that may be drawn from the All Anglophone Conferences of 1993 and 1994. His proposal for a new All Southern Cameroons Conference deserves serious consideration not merely as another political initiative, but as an opportunity to reconnect the political question with principles of law, human rights, representation, and collective political agency.
The central questions are therefore twofold: what is the legal justification for such a Conference, and why is it politically important now? The purpose of the Conference should not be to predetermine the constitutional future of the Southern Cameroons. Its legitimacy would instead derive from its capacity to create a lawful, representative, inclusive, and deliberative forum in which competing political visions may be articulated, examined, and debated by those whose political future is directly implicated.
The legal foundation for such a Conference is not found in a single provision expressly creating a right to convene an “All Southern Cameroons Conference.” Rather, it emerges from the cumulative protection of freedom of expression, association, peaceful assembly, political participation, and peoples’ rights under the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights. Articles 9, 10, 11, and 13 protect the civic and political space necessary for collective deliberation, while Articles 19 and 20 provide the broader framework governing equality, peoples’ rights, and self-determination.
The Legal Foundation
Article 9 of the African Charter protects the right to receive information and to express and disseminate opinions within the law. Article 10 protects freedom of association. Article 11 guarantees the right to assemble freely with others, subject only to restrictions prescribed by law and necessary in a democratic society. Article 13 recognizes every citizen’s right to participate freely in the government of his or her country, either directly or through freely chosen representatives.
These rights are mutually reinforcing. Political participation is impossible without the ability to exchange ideas. Political association provides organizational structure to those ideas. Peaceful assembly creates the space within which collective concerns may be articulated and debated. The proposed Conference can therefore be understood as an exercise in political association and collective deliberation. Its creation would not, by itself, determine the territory’s constitutional status, nor would it require participants to endorse a particular political outcome. Rather, it would create a structured mechanism through which competing constitutional visions may be considered through dialogue rather than coercion.
This distinction is fundamental. The right to deliberate concerning collective political futures is distinct from any asserted right to impose a predetermined political settlement. A Conference that facilitates participation, representation, and discussion does not answer the constitutional question in advance; it establishes conditions in which that question may be addressed peacefully and democratically.
The jurisprudence of the African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights supports this understanding. In Sir Dawda K. Jawara v. The Gambia, Communications Nos. 147/95 and 149/96, the Commission held that measures restricting political participation, freedom of association, assembly, and expression violated multiple provisions of the Charter. The decision reflects a broader principle: meaningful political life requires the preservation of civic space within which citizens may organize, associate, deliberate, and articulate political preferences. The protection of these rights is not merely individual; it is essential to democratic governance itself.
Similarly, in Constitutional Rights Project v. Nigeria, the Commission emphasized that the freedoms of expression, association, and participation are indispensable components of democratic society. The Charter protects not only individual speech but the institutional and collective mechanisms through which public participation occurs.
Deliberative Self-Determination and Democratic Legitimacy
The individual rights protected under Articles 9 through 13 must also be read alongside the African Charter’s distinctive recognition of peoples’ rights.
Article 19 affirms that all peoples are equal and enjoy the same respect and rights. Article 20 recognizes the right of all peoples to existence and self-determination, including the right freely to determine their political status and to pursue their economic and social development according to policies of their own choosing.
These provisions require careful interpretation. Article 20 does not, by itself, resolve the constitutional status of the Southern Cameroons. Nor should it be invoked as though international law has already answered the questions that remain politically contested. Its importance lies elsewhere. It confirms that questions concerning collective political status, governance, and institutional design fall within the sphere of protected human rights discourse.
Contemporary understandings of self-determination increasingly recognize that the concept possesses a participatory dimension. Self-determination is not limited to claims of statehood, secession, federation, or confederation. It also encompasses the ability of a people collectively to deliberate concerning the political institutions through which they are governed.
On this understanding, the significance of an All Southern Cameroons Conference lies not in any predetermined outcome but in the democratic process itself. Its legitimacy derives from its capacity to facilitate informed, representative, and peaceful deliberation concerning competing constitutional alternatives. Whether participants favour federalism, confederal arrangements, enhanced autonomy, independence, or another constitutional model, the Conference provides a venue through which those alternatives may be debated through democratic engagement rather than political exclusion.
Human Rights, Participation, and Civic Space
Where substantial populations maintain longstanding grievances concerning representation, institutional arrangements, cultural and linguistic rights, equality, and participation in public affairs, those concerns implicate questions of rights and institutional accountability. The human-rights framework therefore strengthens the case for representative mechanisms through which grievances may be articulated peacefully.
The jurisprudence of the African Court on Human and Peoples’ Rights is instructive.
In Ingabire Victoire Umuhoza v. Rwanda, the Court reaffirmed the importance of political expression and emphasized that restrictions upon political speech must satisfy requirements of necessity and proportionality. Political expression occupies a privileged position in democratic society because it facilitates public debate concerning matters of collective concern.
Likewise, in Lohé Issa Konaté v. Burkina Faso, the Court held that restrictions on freedom of expression must be proportionate to a legitimate objective and necessary in a democratic society. The judgment underscores a broader principle applicable beyond the specific facts of the case: limitations upon civic participation require careful justification and cannot be imposed simply because political views are controversial or inconvenient.
These authorities do not concern a Southern Cameroons Conference. Their significance lies in the principles they establish. Political expression, peaceful organization, and participation in public affairs enjoy Charter protection, and restrictions upon those activities must conform to recognized human-rights standards.
The African Commission’s decision in SERAC and CESR v. Nigeria further reinforces the proposition that states bear responsibilities not merely to refrain from violating rights but to create conditions within which rights can meaningfully be exercised. Civic participation requires more than formal guarantees; it requires institutions and spaces within which dialogue may occur.
An All Southern Cameroons Conference can therefore be viewed as a mechanism of peaceful democratic engagement rather than as inherently confrontational political activity. Its value lies not only in what it may ultimately decide, but in providing a structured forum within which citizens may deliberate without violence, intimidation, or pressure to reach predetermined conclusions.
Representation and Legitimacy
The legitimacy of any Conference must derive from the people it claims to represent and from the procedures through which representation is established.
This makes Dr. Fontem’s proposal for representation through the thirteen divisions particularly significant. A credible institution cannot simply assemble prominent individuals and assume that prominence constitutes democratic legitimacy. Legitimacy requires identifiable constituencies, transparent procedures, and accountable representation.
The thirteen-division framework provides a territorial foundation for participation while avoiding the tendency to reduce Southern Cameroons politics to a binary North West-South West contest. Traditional authorities, women, youth, civil-society organizations, professionals, political movements, religious communities, business interests, and the diaspora should all have meaningful avenues of participation.
The objective should be representation without capture and inclusion without surrendering institutional authority to personalities.
The broader African democratic framework supports these principles. The African Charter on Democracy, Elections and Governance commits States Parties to democracy, constitutionalism, popular participation, political pluralism, dialogue, and inclusive governance. These principles strengthen the normative case for a representative Conference capable of facilitating broad-based political engagement.
Government Authorization and the Exercise of Rights
Government approval should not be confused with the source of the underlying rights to expression, association, and assembly.
At the same time, the African Charter does not create an unlimited right to assemble under any circumstances. Article 10 recognizes that freedom of association may be regulated by law. Article 11 similarly permits restrictions prescribed by law and justified by legitimate public interests.
The proper legal distinction is therefore between regulation of the exercise of a right and denial of the right itself.
The proposed Conference should operate peacefully, transparently, and consistently with applicable domestic law and the rights of others. Its legitimacy should not depend entirely upon governmental endorsement. Conversely, organizers should not assume that the existence of protected rights eliminates ordinary legal obligations relating to organization, security, or public order.
The relevant legal question is whether regulatory measures facilitate the orderly exercise of rights or effectively extinguish them. Human-rights jurisprudence consistently favours the former and scrutinizes the latter.
The Conference May Be Convened Electronically
There is no compelling reason why a Conference must physically assemble in a single location to possess institutional legitimacy.
Contemporary legal systems increasingly recognize electronic communications, electronic records, electronic signatures, and digitally authenticated consent as legally significant means of conducting transactions, documenting decisions, and preserving evidence.
Cameroon has incorporated these principles into its domestic legal framework through Law No. 2010/021 of 21 December 2010 regulating electronic commerce and Law No. 2010/013 of 21 December 2010 governing electronic communications. Those enactments recognize the legal significance of electronic communications and electronic records.
These statutes do not specifically regulate political conferences or constitutional assemblies. Nevertheless, they reflect a broader legislative recognition that electronic communications, electronic authentication, and digital records may generate legally recognizable effects. By analogy, they support the procedural validity of electronically conducted institutional processes, provided reliable mechanisms exist for participation, authentication, voting, record integrity, and consent.
Accordingly, notices, accreditation documents, mandates, agendas, minutes, resolutions, and voting records may be generated, transmitted, authenticated, and preserved electronically, subject to applicable legal requirements.
Secure electronic participation would allow delegates from the thirteen divisions, the diaspora, and other constituencies to participate without incurring the financial, logistical, and security burdens associated with a single physical gathering.
The critical issue is not whether delegates occupy the same room. The decisive question is whether the institutional framework reliably establishes identity, representation, quorum, participation, voting procedures, consent, and record integrity.
An electronically convened Conference should therefore include:
authenticated delegate registration;
reliable identity verification;
transparent voting mechanisms;
verified quorum procedures;
authenticated minutes and resolutions; and
secure archival preservation of records.
Electronic participation does not itself confer authority upon the Conference or transform its resolutions into binding legal instruments. The authority of any resolution derives from the Conference’s constitutive mandate, the powers delegated to representatives, the procedures adopted by participants, and the legal consequences assigned to those decisions.
Electronic form creates a means of governance; it does not create political legitimacy. Legitimacy must still arise from representation, procedure, accountability, and consent.
A Neutral Forum for Competing Constitutional Visions
The Conference’s greatest political value may lie in its capacity to provide a neutral institutional forum within which competing constitutional perspectives may coexist.
Proponents of federalism should be able to advocate federal arrangements. Advocates of confederal models should be free to advance their proposals. Proponents of independence should be equally free to argue their position. Other constitutional alternatives should likewise receive a hearing.
Participants need not agree on the destination before agreeing on the necessity of dialogue.
The Conference should therefore function as a mechanism for deliberation rather than an instrument for manufacturing consensus. Such an approach is fully consistent with the African Charter’s protections of expression, association, assembly, and participation, as well as with the broader African commitment to political pluralism, tolerance, and democratic engagement.
From Political Mobilization to Institutional Legitimacy*
Perhaps the most important lesson of the AAC experience, and one that underlies Dr. Fontem’s thesis, is that political mobilization alone is insufficient without durable institutions.
A Conference should establish procedures for representation, decision-making, accountability, succession, consultation, and review. No individual or organization should possess ownership of the collective political project.
Government appointments should not create political constituencies. Organizational changes in political strategy should not permit any single group to redefine the mandate of the broader community. Individuals are temporary custodians of political mandates; the mandate itself belongs to the people.
Institutionalization transforms political competition from a contest for personal supremacy into competition through ideas, arguments, and accountable representation. It also provides resilience against the inevitable changes in personalities and political circumstances.
The African Court Dimension
The African Court on Human and Peoples’ Rights provides an additional interpretive framework for understanding the rights implicated by the proposed Conference.
Cameroon deposited its instrument of ratification of the Protocol establishing the African Court on 17 August 2015. However, ratification of the Protocol is legally distinct from the declaration contemplated by Article 34(6) accepting the Court’s competence to receive applications directly from individuals and qualifying non-governmental organizations.
Cameroon has ratified the Protocol but has not deposited an Article 34(6) declaration. Consequently, the procedural avenues available for direct individual litigation before the Court remain limited.
This distinction is important and should not be blurred. Nevertheless, the Court’s jurisprudence remains highly persuasive in interpreting Charter rights. Decisions such as Ingabire Victoire Umuhoza v. Rwanda, Lohé Issa Konaté v. Burkina Faso, and APDH v. Côte d’Ivoire provide valuable guidance concerning freedom of expression, political participation, democratic governance, and civic space.
Conclusion
An All Southern Cameroons Conference is legally defensible and politically significant as a mechanism for peaceful association, participation, representation, and collective deliberation.
Its legal foundation lies in the African Charter’s protections of freedom of expression, association, peaceful assembly, and political participation, complemented by the Charter’s recognition of peoples’ rights and self-determination. Properly understood, self-determination includes not merely the right to advocate particular constitutional outcomes but also the right of a people collectively to deliberate concerning those outcomes.
Whether conducted physically, electronically, or through a hybrid model, a properly constituted Conference can provide a lawful and credible institutional framework for democratic engagement, provided that its procedures ensure representation, authentication, transparency, accountability, and procedural integrity.
Ultimately, the Conference’s greatest value may not lie in any specific constitutional conclusion. Its significance lies in creating a peaceful, inclusive, representative, and durable institutional space in which competing constitutional visions may be debated, political grievances articulated, and collective political agency exercised through transparent and accountable democratic processes.
‐‐——————————— McFarlane Njoh is a lawyer, social justice advocate and legal and political analyst
Footnotes
African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights, adopted 27 June 1981, OAU Doc. CAB/LEG/67/3 rev. 5, arts. 9, 10, 11, 13, 19 and 20.
African Charter, art. 9.
African Charter, art. 10.
African Charter, art. 11.
African Charter, art. 13.
Sir Dawda K. Jawara v. The Gambia, Communications Nos. 147/95 and 149/96 (African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights, 11 May 2000), finding violations of, inter alia, Articles 9, 10, 11 and 20 of the African Charter.
Ibid.
Constitutional Rights Project, Civil Liberties Organisation and Media Rights Agenda v. Nigeria, Communications Nos. 140/94, 141/94 and 145/95 (African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights).
African Charter, arts. 19 and 20.
African Charter, art. 20(1).
The African Commission has consistently interpreted the Charter as protecting both individual and collective dimensions of political participation and self-determination. See generally Katangese Peoples’ Congress v. Zaire, Communication No. 75/92 (African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights).
African Charter, art. 13.
Ingabire Victoire Umuhoza v. Rwanda, Application No. 003/2014, African Court on Human and Peoples’ Rights, Judgment of 24 November 2017, holding that restrictions on political expression must satisfy requirements of legality, necessity and proportionality.
Ibid.
Lohé Issa Konaté v. Burkina Faso, Application No. 004/2013, African Court on Human and Peoples’ Rights, Judgment of 5 December 2014.
Ibid.
Social and Economic Rights Action Center (SERAC) and Center for Economic and Social Rights v. Nigeria, Communication No. 155/96 (African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights).
African Charter on Democracy, Elections and Governance, adopted 30 January 2007, arts. 2, 3 and 27.
Ibid., arts. 2 and 3.
Ibid., art. 27.
African Charter, arts. 10 and 11.
Law No. 2010/021 of 21 December 2010 Regulating Electronic Commerce in Cameroon, particularly arts. 9 and 10.
Law No. 2010/013 of 21 December 2010 Governing Electronic Communications in Cameroon.
Law No. 2010/021, arts. 9–10.
African Charter, arts. 9, 10, 11 and 13.
Protocol to the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights on the Establishment of an African Court on Human and Peoples’ Rights, adopted 9 June 1998, art. 34(6).
The Republic of Cameroon deposited its instrument of ratification of the Protocol on 17 August 2015. The African Court’s official records indicate that Cameroon has ratified the Protocol but has not made the declaration contemplated by Article 34(6) permitting direct access by individuals and qualifying NGOs.
Protocol Establishing the African Court, art. 34(6).
Actions pour la Protection des Droits de l’Homme (APDH) v. Côte d’Ivoire, Application No. 001/2014, African Court on Human and Peoples’ Rights, Judgment of 18 November 2016.
See generally Jawara v. The Gambia; Ingabire Victoire Umuhoza v. Rwanda; Lohé Issa Konaté v. Burkina Faso; and APDH v. Côte d’Ivoire.
See Antonio Cassese, Self-Determination of Peoples: A Legal Reappraisal (Cambridge University Press, 1995); James Crawford, The Creation of States in International Law, 2nd ed. (Oxford University Press, 2006). These authorities distinguish between the principle of self-determination and the separate question of whether a particular people possess a legal entitlement to external self-determination in the form of statehood or secession.
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. ______________________________
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).
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. ________________________________________
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.
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)
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.