Biya: The Man Who Received Power on a Platter of Gold

By Hans Ngala

President Biya is a very unique leader in Cameroon. Having worked as Prime Minister of United Republic of Cameroon under his predecessor, Ahmadou Ahidjo, Biya hit the jackpot when Ahidjo resigned suddenly without warning and handed power to him. Some observers believe that Ahidjo’s impromptu resignation was at the behest of the French, who preferred a Christian and not a Muslim.
Unlike his fellow longtime rulers like Uganda’s Yoweri Museveni or Rwanda’s Paul Kagame, Biya never fought in any wars, has never tasted the corners of a jail cell for his political convictions and has no idea what political exile feels like. The closest he came to experiencing any form of discomfort was early on in his presidency when a failed coup saw him crouch for safety in the presidential bunker of the Unity Palace.
After those events, Biya cemented his grip on power by shaking off all of Ahidjo’s reins on him. Having grown up hoping to become a priest, Biya later chose to study law instead and went into politics.
Biya is just the second president Cameroon has had since independence and the only president most Cameroonians have ever known. As he seeks to extend his 42-year-rule which would see him rule for 50 years if he wins – which he seems likely to – an understanding of how Biya’s experiences have shaped Cameroon, is quite important.
Like any political leader, he is a polarizing figure: loved by his supporters in the CPDM and despised by some for what they perceive as oppression.
To his credit however, he has managed to navigate some rather difficult challenges and held on to power where other leaders would have crashed. The Anglophone Conflict for example, is one such area. Even though he said that the form of the state was not up for discussion – in response to a return to federalism or outright secession by some – he tried to hold dialogue but ironically, was never present at any of the discussions. His absence from such events and the fact that separatist activists were not allowed to freely discuss their ideas, is a stain on Biya’s record.
He also failed to mention the Anglophone Conflict at the UN in September 2017 when he addressed the UN, infuriating Anglophones even more.
Having ascended to power smoothly, without any difficulty and ruling over a country that is greatly fractured (as proven by the recent divisions among opposition candidates), Biya is able to let these divisions work to his own advantage.
While conflict rages on in neighboring Central African Republic, Chad and Boko Haram insurgency in northern Nigeria and swathes of Cameroon as well as piracy on Nigeria’s eastern border with Cameroon – Biya has largely been able to brave all these challenges.
As President Biya pushes forward with his bid for an eighth term in office, the question that looms over Cameroon is not merely whether he will win — for many believe the outcome is already preordained — but what another term under his leadership will mean for a nation already worn thin by decades of inertia. At 92, Biya embodies the image of a distant, almost ghostlike presence — ruling from afar, rather than through intimate contact with the realities facing ordinary Cameroonians.
The consequences of such prolonged and aloof leadership are everywhere. Cameroon remains a country with immense potential — rich in human and natural resources — yet unable to rise beyond mediocrity. Youth unemployment is staggering, healthcare infrastructure is crumbling, and corruption remains entrenched in every layer of government. Under Biya, the centralization of power has stifled meritocracy and weakened state institutions, making governance more about loyalty than competence.
Yet, Biya’s longevity is not simply a reflection of his own maneuverings; it is also a reflection of Cameroon’s political class and electorate. Elections have become rituals without change, and opposition figures, while vocal, remain deeply fragmented. The inability of political parties to present a unified front or articulate a compelling alternative vision of leadership leaves many Cameroonians either apathetic or resigned. This disillusionment has created space for political clowns — opportunists who seek office not to serve but to mimic power — further muddying the waters of real democratic engagement.
Ironically, Biya’s greatest asset remains the very dysfunction he has helped foster. So long as Cameroonians remain divided, and so long as no leader emerges to galvanize the masses around a credible alternative, Biya’s grip on power will endure — not because he is loved or visionary, but because he remains the last man standing in a broken system.
In the end, the story of Paul Biya is not just the story of one man’s rule, but of a nation that has allowed itself to be ruled for too long without demanding real change. His presidency, which began with little effort, may yet end with even less fanfare — not in dramatic overthrow or popular uprising, but in a slow, painful slide into irrelevance. And unless Cameroonians begin to demand more from both those who govern and those who seek to govern, the country’s future will remain as uncertain and stagnant as its past.