The Hard Lessons of Cameroon

Jean-Germain Gros

Five years after the emergence of a promising trend toward multiparty elections in sub-Saharan Africa, a number of countries are in danger of slipping back into outright authoritarian rule. Worse yet, some members of the international community appear to be offering at least tacit consent to such a reversion, while others assume a posture of cool indifference. Such is the case with Cameroon today, where the ruling Cameroonian People's Democratic Movement (CPDM), strongly backed by France, seems set to recapture the ground that it lost during the tumultuous two years preceding the 11 October 1992 presidential election.

At that time the ten-year-old regime of President Paul Biya appeared headed to almost certain defeat, but partly owing to widespread election fraud the incumbent gained a narrow victory. According to the official results, Biya won 40 percent of the vote, John Fru Ndi of the Social Democratic Front (SDF) 36 percent, and Maïgari Bello Boúba of the National Union for Democracy and Progress (UNDP) 19 percent. Biya's party had also gained a substantial plurality in Cameroon's National Assembly in March 1992 elections boycotted by the SDF.

Today the country's unicameral legislature is a rump parliament overwhelmingly dominated by CPDM deputies, as the opposition UNDP delegation walked out in October 1994 to protest the arrest of UNDP activists in Far North Province. The municipal elections expected for later this year have been indefinitely postponed. The exaggerated presidentialism of the 1972 Constitution, adopted under President Ahmadou Babatoura Ahidjo, the founder of postcolonial Cameroon, has yet to be revised. John Fru Ndi, leader of the SDF and probably the [End Page 112] real winner of the October 1992 presidential election, is subject to government-inspired harassment whenever he dares to venture outside of his stronghold in English-speaking North West Province. Finally, the long-awaited "democratization" of the media (radio and television particularly) remains an increasingly remote possibility. The resurgence of authoritarianism, disarray within the opposition, continued economic decline, and the malign role played by the country's main foreign patron (France) make Cameroon a rich source of hard lessons about the pitfalls that await democratic transitions throughout Africa and the developing world.

In order to achieve a fuller understanding both of the factors that have undermined Cameroon's democratic transition and of its future prospects for democracy, it is necessary to look at the country's postcolonial history, social structure, and political dynamics. Cameroon is the only African state where the respective colonial legacies of Britain and France have had to coexist, however awkwardly. Cameroon is also exceptional in another respect, for while the transition from colonial status to statehood was generally peaceful in much of French-speaking sub-Saharan Africa, Cameroon's independence in 1960 came amid a violent uprising by the left-wing nationalists of the Union des Populations du Cameroun (UPC) that was not decisively defeated until the early 1970s. Both of these circumstances--or, more precisely, President Ahidjo's response to them--left an imprint on Cameroonian political life that endures to this day.

Technically, Cameroon was never a French or British colony. The Germans had made it a protectorate in 1884; after their defeat in the First World War, the newly formed League of Nations ceded roughly 80 percent of Cameroon's territory to France and 20 percent to Britain to be administered as a mandate. With the close of the Second World War, Cameroon's status changed again, this time to that of a French and British trust under the tutelage of the League of Nations' heir apparent, the United Nations. Such technicalities meant little, however. For all practical purposes Cameroon was a colony with two masters, although the superior resource endowment of French East Cameroon meant that Paris took a keener interest in its "trust" than London did.

France administered East Cameroon as part of the larger territory of French Equatorial Africa (comprising also present-day Chad, the Central African Republic, Congo, and Gabon). The excellent deepwater port of Douala at the mouth of the Wouri River made East Cameroon a prime site for postwar French investment. In France's grand design, French-speaking Cameroon was to serve as the entrepôt for the landlocked colonies of Oubangui-Chari (now the Central African Republic) and Chad. By contrast, British policy toward West Cameroon, which was itself divided into northern British Cameroon and southern British Cameroon and separated by a 20-mile strip of Nigerian territory, [End Page 113] could be characterized as one of benign neglect. The British never even bothered to set up a separate administration for the territory, remaining content to rule West Cameroon through their colonial governor in Lagos, Nigeria.

Francophones and Anglophones

In 1960, French Cameroon gained its independence. The following year a UN-sponsored referendum was held, in which the northern part of British Cameroon voted to join Nigeria while the southern part voted to become part of Cameroon. The new Federal Republic of Cameroon had a linguistic cleavage not unlike that found in Canada, except that in Cameroon it was the French speakers who formed the vast majority. Moreover, French-speaking East Cameroon was economically more developed than the former southern British Cameroon; unless increased investments were made in order to bring the latter up to par with the rest of the country, the anglophone region would languish as a backwater.

In addition to their language, the British left behind their traditions of Westminster-style bicameral parliamentarism, administrative decentralization, vibrant local government, and a relatively open society. By contrast, the more prosperous and populous East Cameroon had a classically "Gallic" orientation, with a strong executive, a centralized bureaucracy, and less tolerance for open debate and dissent. The presence of the UPC insurgency, combined with President Ahidjo's personal penchant for secrecy, only reinforced these tendencies.

At independence, Ahidjo faced a twofold challenge: defeat the UPC in the field, and bring the disparate parts of the country together politically. For the first task, he needed the support of France, which he got in ample supply. French contributions in the form of training, equipment, financial assistance, intelligence, and, last but not least, political cover against UN initiatives to create a power-sharing arrangement between the two sides were vital to the Ahidjo regime's eventual triumph over the maquisards of the UPC. ¹

Ahidjo's victory was not without a price, for it left him beholden to the Cameroonian military and--just as significantly--to the French. The long battle against the UPC, combined with the horrific Biafran War in Nigeria in 1967 and the subsequent rise of Nigeria as an aspirant for regional hegemony, left Cameroon more dependent on France for its security needs than perhaps any other former French colony. Nigeria with its 93 million people is almost eight times more populous than Cameroon, and continual border clashes between the two countries--most recently in February 1994--serve to remind Cameroon's leaders of their continuing need for a strong patron.

Cameroon remained officially a federation until 1972, when Ahidjo [End Page 114] unilaterally declared it a unitary state. ² Cameroonian politics remains heavily affected to this day by the bifurcated colonial legacy and the failed attempt to dampen that legacy's problematic effects through federalism. For example, one cannot understand the militancy of the SDF, the party that has been most closely identified with anglophone Cameroon, without grasping that what it wants is not merely a change in the government but a far-reaching, federalist reform of the regime. Yet progress toward this goal is impeded by the reluctance of President Biya's francophone opponents seriously to consider federalism, which they fear might lead to the eventual breakup of the country.

The cleavage between anglophones and francophones, while the most salient at present, is only one amid the complex pattern of cleavages that cut across Cameroonian society. The presence of more than 200 ethnic groups and subgroups has certainly affected politics in postcolonial Cameroon, though great care must be exercised in order to avoid sweeping generalizations: ethnic groups are commonly subdivided and intermingled in complex ways, and ethnicity often takes second place behind other forces. Among the most prominent groups are the Fangs (who live mainly in the Centre and South provinces, which contain about a fifth of Cameroon's total population); the Bamilékés of the western highlands (an area, divided between French and English speakers, which holds another fifth); the predominantly Muslim and politically influential Fulanis of Adamaoua, North, and Far North provinces, along with the so-called Kirdis or animist groups that they dominate (together amounting to about 30 percent); and the Dualas of Littoral Province (14 percent).

While ethnicity always looms in the background of Cameroonian (indeed, of African) politics, Western analysts tend to overrate its significance. The UPC insurgency, though at one time or another identified with this or that ethnic group, was never an ethnic movement in any strict sense. During the early postcolonial years, moreover, President Ahidjo did not enjoy majority support among his fellow leaders from the Lamibés (traditional chieftaincies) of North Province. These notables, it seems, feared that modern centralized authority would erode their own power whether or not one of "their own" was at the helm.

Following the mandate of the Constitution, in 1982 the northern Muslim Ahidjo handed over power to the southern Christian Biya. The military coup that nearly toppled Biya in 1984, ostensibly to bring Ahidjo back to power, was foiled by a disparate group of loyalist soldiers and officers from South, West, and even North provinces. Moreover, during the legislative election of 1992, the North-based, Muslim-led UNDP won a plurality in the largely Christian South West Province.

As Jean-François Bayart has pointed out, the idea of ethnic [End Page 115] [Begin Page 117] differentiation is a notion of relatively recent vintage in Cameroon, as elsewhere in Africa. ³ Besides, urbanization, internal migration, and intermarriage keep ethnic distinctions in such a constant state of flux that ethnic groups themselves become fissiparous as their members straddle and shift identities, undermining in the process the validity of any approach that takes ethnic allegiance as a fixed explanatory device. This is not to say that interethnic friction is imaginary or politically unimportant: As an indication of the importance that the Biya government attaches to the subject, one might consider the March 1993 University of Yaoundé symposium that it sanctioned under the title "African Democracy: Hostage of Tribalism?" ⁴ The regime has also sought to use Kirdi resentment of Fulani domination in Far North Province to split the UNDP. While ethnicity deserves attention, the truth is that Cameroonian politics has become institutionalized and complex enough to warrant a strong focus on governance-related factors. Ethnicity should come into the picture as a secondary phenomenon with which these more important factors are intertwined.

Anyone searching for causes of the failed transition to multiparty democracy must look to the circumstances that attended the birth of postcolonial Cameroon: the long and violent internal war that made official secrecy and harshness toward dissent seem like virtues; the excessive dependence of civilian leaders on the military and the French; the inequitable terms of unification between the French and British parts of the trust territory, which made the allegiance of anglophones questionable; overcentralization and a virtually unchecked presidency; a fractured opposition hobbled by narrow goals and leaders too vainglorious to band together; and, finally, an international community too distracted by other issues and too surprised by the rapid pace of change to meet the challenge of intelligently pressing the cause of democratic reform in countries like Cameroon.

The Transition to Multipartism

The drive toward multiparty rule in Cameroon began in 1989, when the prominent attorney and Duala chief Yondo Black undertook the perfectly legal project of creating a new political party. In February 1990, Black and some of his collaborators were arrested for their organizing work and charged with attempting to destabilize the government by fomenting ethnic tension. Cameroonian artists and intellectuals protested; the international community soon joined them. ⁵

Stirred to action by the Black affair, John Fru Ndi, a librarian from English-speaking North West Province, announced the launching of the SDF in May 1990. Government security forces used violence to break up the SDF's first public rally, held in the western town of Bamenda. Somewhere between four and a dozen people were killed. A law [End Page 117] officially permitting the formation of political parties was adopted in December 1990; shortly thereafter, opposition parties formed the National Coordination Committee of Opposition Parties (NCCOP), largely in response to what some opposition leaders saw as government maneuvering to control the outcome of the democratic game by unilaterally making up its rules.

The NCCOP's three main components were the SDF, the UNDP, and the now-peaceful but seriously divided UPC, which nonetheless claimed to be the only party with a nationwide appeal. The inability of the UPC to control the factionalism within its own ranks and claim its rightful place in Cameroonian politics has perhaps been the greatest political tragedy of the period since 1990. In addition to the big three, there was a swarm of smaller parties (more than 60 on election day), many of which had no more than a leader and a few activists. These parties tended to be less antagonistic toward the CPDM regime than the three main ones, and at least one minor party, the Mouvement Démocratique pour la République, was known to be a creature of the ruling party organized as part of a scheme to draw support away from the UNDP.

Like its counterparts in other French-speaking African countries, the opposition in Cameroon demanded that the government convene a sovereign national conference whose first (but by no means last) order of business would be to devise rules and procedures for holding the upcoming local and national elections according to the principles of transparency and multipartism. The Biya government refused, arguing that the democratization process in Cameroon was already well underway, thus obviating the need for a national conference. The government further contended that the 1972 Constitution, following the example of the French Fifth Republic, clearly placed all elections in the hands of an official--the minister of territorial administration--who was immune to political manipulation. The opposition responded by calling in June 1991 for a general strike, dubbed Opération Villes Mortes (Operation Ghost Town), designed to shut down every city and town in the country from Monday through Friday until the government agreed to call a sovereign national conference.

At the end of October 1991, after the government had demonstrated its ability to withstand the pressure of the Villes Mortes campaign, the opposition came to the bargaining table. The trilateral talks brought together representatives of the government, the opposition, and the so-called forces vives of Cameroonian society: local entrepreneurs, the media, religious bodies, workers' and students' unions, and so on. Although the fanfare that preceded these talks misled some opposition leaders into thinking that they were getting the substance of a national conference under a different name, it quickly became clear that the government's agenda fell far short of their hopes.

To begin with, President Biya brushed aside calls for his personal [End Page 118] participation and sent his prime minister instead. Next Biya succeeded in restricting the main agenda to constitutional questions; in other French-speaking African countries, the scope of such national conferences had been much broader. Third and perhaps most important, while the government led everyone to believe that constitutional reform would take place before the upcoming legislative and presidential elections, this did not happen. The 1992 elections--for the legislature in March and the presidency in October--went ahead under the still-unchanged electoral laws, with the minister of territorial administration at the helm.

The Fragmentation of the Opposition

The opposition's decision to attend the trilateral meeting in spite of the regime's refusal to meet any opposition preconditions underscores its most serious weakness: fragmentation. By the end of 1991, there were no fewer than 70 political parties in Cameroon. This proliferation was a sad token of the opposition's continuing inability to pull itself together and articulate the interests of all segments of Cameroonian society. In the highly uncertain and politicized environment of 1991, each group felt driven to create its own party in order to ensure itself a voice in the debate and a "fair share" of the gâteau national. ⁶

Together, the opposition parties faced a classic cartel dilemma. The efficacy of any cartel depends on the willingness of its members to play by the rules, but there is a tremendous incentive for each member to cheat and look for a "free ride" on the others' efforts. Usually, as soon as it is discovered that one member has been opportunistic, others quickly follow suit so as not to be left behind. In Cameroon, the strength of the opposition depended on its ability to hold its various members together. Its main weakness was that one or two opportunists among the coalition membership could unravel the whole group's effort. Thus within 72 hours after one opposition leader agreed to take part in the government's trilateral meeting, all but one of his colleagues had followed suit. The opposition could not hold out for a sovereign national conference because once the government got a single opposition group to enter talks, all the other groups felt compelled to do likewise.

The case of Cameroon shows, unsurprisingly, that the more disparate the opposition, the harder it is to adopt, enforce, and preserve a common strategy for the coalition. An alliance between Maïgari Bello Boúba's UNDP and John Fru Ndi's SDF would have been virtually impossible to beat. Since Fru Ndi was by far the most popular presidential candidate, this would have required Bello Boúba to give up his ambition to head the ticket. Instead, Bello Boúba urged Fru Ndi to step down, claiming that Cameroon was not ready for a president who could not speak the tongue of Molière. Thus was the inherent danger of [End Page 119] fragmentation made worse by personality differences and egos too big for the good of the nation.

The constant infighting that went on within the upper ranks of the opposition coalition was a huge help to President Biya. Painfully aware of the problem it faced, the "hard core" of the Cameroonian opposition sought to mitigate this difficulty by demanding a balloting system with two or more rounds, so that even if the opposition parties could not agree upon a single candidate during the first round, they might have a chance of getting one of their challengers into a runoff with the incumbent. The government, however, through crafty manipulation of parliamentary rules and the cooptation of some opposition deputies, successfully resisted all efforts toward such a revision of the election laws.

The only weapon that the opposition had in its arsenal was Opération Villes Mortes. Yet even when civil disobedience was at its height, from May to August 1991, Biya's government was never in any serious danger. The regime remained in control throughout the country, there was no threat of military insubordination, and donor confidence remained high. France retired part of Cameroon's debt and twice in 1991 arranged for civil servants to receive their back pay, and the IMF turned over several million dollars to fund economic restructuring. On the other hand, store owners could not keep their shops closed forever; nor could middle-class opposition leaders ask their less-well-off followers to tighten their belts indefinitely. The government's sometimes violent reactions to popular protest, the continuing support that it was receiving abroad (especially from France), and the growing feeling that civil-disobedience tactics were not working combined to force the opposition leadership's hand. They had no choice but to try reform on Biya's terms.

As long as the government could shield its main internal backers--the civil service, the army and security forces, and traditional chiefs--from the effects of the boycott, it could afford to wait it out. As the incumbent, Biya could use state resources to protect his loyalists. Moreover, at least two of the country's ten provinces were solidly behind him. Thus he had little to lose by confronting the opposition with the choice of trying to keep the Villes Mortes campaign going against the odds or accepting "reform" on his terms. The strategy was simple: keep rewarding indispensable supporters, even if all other institutions were falling apart; encourage the crippling proliferation of opposition parties; and maintain the appearance of normality in areas commonly thought of as government strongholds: Centre and South provinces generally, and the capital of Yaoundé in particular.

Biya stuck to this strategy even though the internal cohesion of the CPDM camp was sorely tested on several occasions. Some high-profile CPDM figures resigned in protest, including a former secretary general of the party and a former governor of East Province. The latter accused [End Page 120] the minister of territorial administration of pressuring governors to do everything in their power to secure at least 60 percent of the vote for President Biya. Whatever the restiveness within party ranks, there is little doubt that the military remained firmly behind the government during the period from May 1990 to December 1992. This was a big deviation from the pattern of events previously seen in Benin and Congo, where military support for the incumbents disintegrated when cohesion was most needed.

The Role of the Military

In addition to the mismatch between an inept opposition and a cagey incumbent willing to do almost anything to stay in power, the support of the military and the security forces for the Biya government was probably the single most important domestic factor behind the failure of the transition to multiparty politics. Cameroon's soldiers and policemen showed themselves ready, willing, and able to make warrantless arrests, detain prisoners indefinitely, publicly flog at least one opposition leader, seize dissident newspapers, and intimidate opposition voters.

Although it would be a mistake to see the civilian government as a mere front for military rule, Cameroon's military is probably one of the most politically potent in Africa today. Its influence flows less from any capacity to mount coups d'état (its internal divisions and dependence on France are major obstacles) than from its proven willingness to defend the nation against such threats. Unlike its counterparts elsewhere in Africa, the Cameroonian military has won its spurs in the field, having put down a long-running insurgency, thwarted coup plotters in 1984, and battled Nigerian border forces on and off for the past 20 years. These exploits have given the military a store of political capital that it can use to argue its case before civilian leaders. Sometimes its views prevail, as in 1991 when Biya was said to be personally willing to make more concessions than the military was prepared to accept; at other times they do not, as in February 1994 when elements within the military unsuccessfully advocated strong measures during clashes with Nigeria over fishing and oil-exploration rights on the Bakassi Peninsula.

The circumstances surrounding independence and the long era of secretive authoritarian rule under Ahidjo and Biya helped to form a military ethos favoring stability and predictability over the vagaries of multiparty politics and democratic openness. In a society with strong centrifugal tendencies, military officers may well have seen multipartism more as a threat to the integrity of the state than as an opportunity to effect fundamental change in state-society relations. The dangerous flaw in this thinking, of course, is its equation of the survival of the government in power with the survival of the state. Although professedly in favor of "republican government," the military was probably more [End Page 121] concerned about the loss of national control, particularly in areas where the opposition was strong--for example, North West and North provinces and parts of Douala--than about respecting the rule of law.

It is also possible that in backing Biya the military was guarding its own parochial interests. Since taking office, Biya has recruited and promoted many officers who, like him, are Betis (a not particularly homogeneous southern people). Some of them may have feared the effect that a loss of power by one of "theirs" would have on southerners in general and Betis in particular. It is also plausible that the civilian government never intended to make any significant political concessions, and simply used the military to do its bidding. The 1991 reinstatement of military and police officers who had been cashiered for involvement in the 1984 coup attempt would seem to support this thesis. No matter who was using whom, it remains indisputable that the military's zealous harassment of the regime's opponents from the Villes Mortes period right up through election day and beyond proved a crucial hindrance to the democratic process.

The French Connection

Few would dispute the enormously influential role that France plays in its former African colonies. As the Cameroonians say, "La France est incontournable chez nous." ("There's no getting around France in these parts.") More than any other external power, France was in a position to play a positive role in the democratization process, yet it chose not to do so. The reason for this refusal must be sought in the context of France's policy toward its former colonies. This policy is grounded not only in economic interests but in cultural, strategic, and emotional concerns as well. ⁷

Cultural considerations and personal ties are important ingredients in Franco-Cameroonian relations. France has yet to accept that English has become the global lingua franca, and it remains suspicious of "Anglo-Saxon" influence in its former colonies. The bifurcated nature of Cameroon's society, with a vocal and increasingly defiant English-speaking minority that prides itself on being "uncontaminated" by la francophonie, was not lost upon French policy makers. Paul Biya has strong links to the French political establishment that go back to his student years in Paris and the decade he spent as Ahidjo's prime minister. With a free and fair election seeming likely to result in his defeat by the anglophone populist John Fru Ndi, the Mitterrand government was probably prepared to tolerate certain excesses and even provide a financial bailout if such was needed to save a good friend and reliable ally.

Fru Ndi, for his part, has never hidden his desire to move Cameroon away from the French orbit. As president, he would probably have [End Page 122] followed a foreign policy course that would have brought the country closer to Britain, the United States, and Nigeria at the expense of what the French see as their interests. Domestically, he would likely have favored the establishment of a federated state with real powers for regional governments. ⁸ Such an arrangement would have meant greater autonomy for the English-speaking provinces: North West and oil-rich South West. The prospect of such shifts upset not only France but also most of the other parties in the largely French-speaking opposition, and partly accounts for the absence of interparty alliances. ⁹

Winning Is Easy If You Make Your Own Rules

The rules governing the presidential election of 11 October 1992 can hardly be said to have created a "level playing field" for the incumbent and his challengers. To begin with, the campaign period began on September 17, making it a full six days shorter than the 30-day run-up mandated by Article 51 of the 1972 Constitution. Many of the opposition parties, the SDF in particular, had no experience in running for office and simply did not have enough time to organize. Moreover, the important work of voter registration and education could not be properly done within such a short period of time, in spite of the willingness of foreign organizations such as the U.S. National Democratic Institute to provide assistance. Not surprisingly, many voters were turned away on election day because they lacked the needed identification papers or found their names mysteriously omitted from the rolls.

Second, the minister of territorial administration, far from being the paragon of neutrality and fairness touted by the regime, was in fact a close ethnic compatriot of President Biya and an unabashed CPDM partisan. In France, the officials who run elections are rightly seen as impartial public servants rather than government stooges; in Cameroon, as elsewhere in francophone Africa, however, such persons are highly politicized. Putting the minister of territorial administration in charge of the electoral process guaranteed, at a minimum, widespread suspicion of foul play. The opposition had pushed for an independent electoral commission to run the election, but had to settle for a National Commission of the Final Counting of Votes. This body had 19 members, of whom 13 were appointed by the government, with 11 of these coming from Biya's strongholds of South and Center provinces.

Third, the government enjoyed an overwhelming edge in resources. State-run Cameroon Radio and Television (CRTV), the most pervasive source of news and information in the country, gave Biya much greater coverage (all of it favorable, of course) than it gave to the opposition. Events that were really government-staged political propaganda were reported on CRTV as "news." Numerous irregularities were noted by [End Page 123] both international and domestic observers on election day; they ran the gamut from stuffed ballot boxes to tallies from nonexistent "ghost precincts" to physical intimidation of opposition supporters, not to mention the unexplained omission of voters from voting lists. ¹⁰

The investigation and resolution of irregularities in the voting were tasks left to the Supreme Court, which in its final report admitted the possibility of widespread fraud. In the same report, however, the Court also made it clear that since it lacked the power to annul the election, it had no choice but to declare the incumbent the winner. ¹¹ The impotence of the judiciary was vividly underscored four days after the election, when--with only 20 percent of the vote counted--the minister of territorial administration unilaterally declared Biya the winner without waiting for the Supreme Court to announce the final results.

Although limited space precludes a detailed analysis of the data here, the government's own figures show a clear pattern of low voter turnout in areas where the opposition was strong and high voter turnout in those where support for Biya might be expected to be high, such as Centre and South provinces. In at least one district in South Province, voter turnout reached almost 100 percent; even more remarkably, all of that district's voters apparently cast their ballots for the incumbent. In addition, the data show Biya winning or running very strong in some districts well known as opposition strongholds. In the SDF bastion of South West Province, for instance, the government appears to have padded its tally by simply taking votes directly from the SDF and recording them as votes for Biya.

Looking into a Cloudy Crystal Ball

In light of what by every indication was a well-orchestrated government attempt to subvert the democratic process, the inability of the opposition to stop this from happening, and an economy that continues to decline, one may well wonder what comes next, and what can be done to help put the democratization process back on track. The most likely scenario at the moment entails the persistence of stalemate as the embers of government-opposition tension continue to smolder. Things are certainly not as agitated as they were three years ago, but with rising urban unemployment and a government that is seen as illegitimate, one has the sense of an uneasy peace that could shatter at any moment.

A second scenario envisions "genuine" accommodation between the government and the opposition--or, more precisely, some as-yet-unknown faction or factions of the opposition. Having boycotted the last legislative elections, the SDF has no representatives in the National Assembly. Any government move to accommodate it, therefore, would have to take place outside the realm of parliamentary politics. Even if [End Page 124] the Biya regime were to succeed in getting SDF leaders--not necessarily Fru Ndi--to rally to its standard, for this to be seen as more than a sellout there would have to be some real concession, such as the regime's agreement to decentralize power by returning to the pre-1972 federal arrangement.

A more plausible accommodation might bring together Biya and Bello Boúba of the UNDP. This would amount to a reconstruction of Ahidjo's mainstay, a coalition built around southern Christian and northern Muslim elites. As the October 1994 arrests of UNDP members revealed, however, much ill will would have to be overcome before these ex-allies could reunite. Then too, the ambitious Bello Boúba does not seem like the type who would be willing to bide his time playing junior partner in a coalition government.

A third and very unsettling scenario foresees Cameroon descending into the vortex of Yugoslav-style warfare. Keeping in mind that the country is one of the most ethnically and linguistically diverse in sub-Saharan Africa, this grim possibility is not as far-fetched as it may seem. Although there are many political fault lines, the most likely conflict would pit English speakers against francophones. The English-speaking regions have a longstanding desire for decentralization leading to the establishment of a genuine federation between West and East Cameroon. President Biya has steadfastly refused any step in this direction; his recalcitrance is tacitly endorsed by many francophones who claim to be against his rule. Should the English-speaking community in its frustration embrace secessionism, a civil war--possibly with Nigerian participation--would almost certainly ensue. The future not only of Cameroonian democracy but of Cameroon itself as a peaceful and united republic may well hinge on how the tension between anglophones and francophones is resolved. ¹²

A final scenario has France withdrawing its support from Biya. While this would almost certainly precipitate the president's departure, it would not necessarily usher in democracy. France, after all, cares first and foremost about its own interests, and it will probably judge these as best served by someone who can carry on as much as possible with "business as usual." Paris might decide to distance itself from Biya if it concludes that he has become a political and economic liability, and if a "safe" alternative can be found. The French would not be likely to look for a proponent of major reform. As an English speaker is unlikely to be acceptable to Paris under any circumstances, the main beneficiary of such a volte-face might be someone like Maïgari Bello Boúba or even one of Biya's own lieutenants.

None of these scenarios bodes well for the immediate future of democracy in Cameroon given continuing French support for the incumbent regime, the tepid attitude of the rest of the international community, and the Cameroonian military's willingness to serve as the [End Page 125] strong right arm of authoritarianism. Attempts by the opposition to renew the Cameroonian democratic movement are likely to be met with an equally dogged determination to maintain autocratic rule. As the country experiences a steady diet of periodic conflicts between the Biya regime and its opponents on specific issues--especially elections--it behooves the international community to think seriously about the terms of its participation in these events. Scrapping the custom, left over from the Cold War, of giving France a free hand in its former colonies would be an excellent place to start.

Likewise, the role of the military urgently needs a searching reappraisal. Militarism may be the greatest single internal threat to democracy--and indeed to the nation-building process tout court--throughout the developing world. The descent of Somalia, Liberia, and--for a time--Rwanda into horrifying anarchy was due in no small part to the pervasiveness in all three of weapons and of armed groups supported by strong external patrons. The hijacking of democracy in Nigeria, Togo, and the Gambia is testimony to the capacity of well-organized militaries to create mischief. There is little that the international community can do (short of the daunting prospect of sending troops) when military men in poor states directly or indirectly choose to derail the democratic process. But it is well to ask whether African democracy has a chance as long as the military is more concerned about security issues and its own parochial interests than about showing respect for the rule of law.

Jean-Germain Gros is professor of political science and public policy at the University of Missouri in Saint Louis. He is currently preparing a forthcoming nine-country study of the transition to multiparty politics in sub-Saharan Africa.

Notes

The author wishes to thank Willard Johnson for his comments on an earlier draft of this essay.

1. For perhaps the most authoritative study in English of Cameroonian nationalism, see Richard Joseph, Radical Nationalism in Cameroon (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1977).

2. For an in-depth study of the federation and its pitfalls, see Willard Johnson, The Cameroon Federation: Political Integration in a Fragmentary Society (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1970).

3. See Jean-François Bayart, The Politics of the Belly (New York and London: Longman, 1993), especially ch. 1.

4. Fondation Panafricaine de Lutte Contre le Tribalisme, Démocratie africaine: Otage du tribalisme? (Yaoundé, Cameroon: Publication INPACT, 1993).

5. Author's interview with Yondo Black, Douala, Cameroon, 12 February 1994.

6. Célestin Monga, "Les mots contre la parole: Aide-mémoire de l'autoritarisme au Cameroun" (paper presented at the Thirty-sixth Meeting of the African Studies Association, Boston, 4-7 December 1993).

7. For an analysis of French policy toward Africa under Mitterrand, see John A. McKesson, "France and Africa: The Evolving Saga," French Politics and Society 11 (Spring 1993): 55-69. For a critique of Mitterrand's Africa policy, see Jean-François Bayart, La politique africaine de François Mitterrand (Paris: Karthala, 1984).

8. Fru Ndi's policy preferences were revealed during a 1993 interview in Yaoundé by Peter Essoka of Cameroon Radio and Television (CRTV).

9. Author's interview with Chief Agbor Tabi, anglophone businessman and Social Democratic Front supporter, Yaoundé, 16 February 1994.

10. The most detailed critique of the Cameroon presidential election was provided by the National Democratic Institute, which, in spite of having had some of its observers denied entry into Cameroon, was one of the organizations that observed the October 1992 presidential election. See National Democratic Institute, An Assessment of the October 11, 1992 Election in Cameroon (Washington, D.C.: National Democratic Institute for International Affairs, 1993). A bitter attack of the Institute's report was launched by the government and repeated during an interview that I conducted with Communications Minister Augustin Kontchou in Yaoundé on 14 February 1994. For an abbreviated version of the government's answer, see Appendix VII of the same NDI report.

11. Author's interview with a Supreme Court judge who was intimately involved in the legislative and presidential elections, Yaoundé, 15 February 1994. Name is being withheld to protect the participant.

12. To watch how English speakers define themselves in relation to their francophone counterparts, and romanticize the past, is to witness the marvel of corporate identity. British rule brought few material benefits to what was called West Cameroon; and those that it did bring (e.g., language, decentralized administration, local governments with tax-raising functions) were for the sake of British interests, not the good of the locals. Had they not had more prosperous, French-speaking East Cameroon to rub up against in an uneasy federation, it is doubtful that anglophones would have been as adamant in emphasizing their distinct heritage.

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