Paul Biya Sets Vote Date After Detaining Up to 2,000 Protesters

Paul Biya has finally picked a date for Cameroon's legislative and local elections. The date is February 7. He announced it in a decree read on public radio, and he did it while the country was still counting its wounded from the last time its people tried to vote him out.

Let us be precise about who is making this announcement. Biya is 93 years old. He has ruled Cameroon since 1982, which means most of the people now voting were born under his rule and have known no other head of state. He is the oldest sitting leader on earth. And he has now postponed the parliamentary and municipal elections twice, stretching the terms of sitting lawmakers to December 20 and those of municipal councillors to February 28, 2027. Ask yourself what it says about a government when its own elections keep missing their own deadlines.

Now consider what happened after the last presidential contest in October 2025. Biya was declared the winner for yet another term. Ordinary Cameroonians took to the streets, and the state answered with force. Lawyers cited by Human Rights Watch say security forces detained as many as 2,000 people. Some of them are still behind bars. Two thousand people were taken from their homes, their workplaces, and their protests, and many have not come home. Think of the mothers at the prison gates. Think of the families who still do not know what charge, if any, is waiting for their sons and daughters.

The regime's answer to dissent has not stopped at the cells. Last month the authorities suspended the Cameroon National Salvation Front, the party of Issa Tchiroma Bakary, the opposition candidate who declared himself the election winner and called on supporters to defend that "victory." Tchiroma is now in exile in The Gambia. When a country's main opposition party is suspended and its leader is forced into exile, the word "election" stops meaning a contest between citizens and starts meaning a ritual performed for the ruler's comfort.

And then there is the question nobody in Yaoundé wants answered out loud: who will govern Cameroon if Paul Biya dies or is incapacitated? His frequent stays abroad, including more than two months in Geneva that ended only in late August, have fueled public concern about his ability to lead. The government's answer has been to ban media debate about the president's health, a prohibition in place since 2024, when rumours of his death circulated. You cannot debate the health of the man who runs the country, and you cannot question the succession plan either. A constitutional reform reintroduced the post of vice president in April, and its holder would be expected to take over if Biya dies. Yet the post remains unfilled, and the government reshuffle announced almost a year ago has still not happened. A nation of roughly 30 million people is being run as though its future belongs to a single failing body and a handful of loyalists who fear what comes after.

We have seen this script before, and we know how it ends when it is not interrupted. A leader stays too long. Elections are postponed in the name of stability. Opponents are jailed or exiled. The state spends its energy protecting the ruler instead of serving the ruled. Then one day the ruler is gone, and the vacuum he left behind becomes a battlefield for the people closest to his bed. Africa has paid for this pattern in blood from Abidjan to Khartoum, and Cameroon is walking the same road with its eyes open.

So let us say what must be said. Cameroon's problem is not that its people are apathetic. It is that they have been told, over and over, that their votes are decorations. Real democracy requires an electoral commission that answers to the constitution and not to the presidency. It requires independent courts that rule on the results without fear, a free press that can report on the health of the head of state without being arrested, and an opposition that can campaign, organize, and win seats without being suspended by decree. None of these are radical demands. They are the bare minimum that every African constitution promises on paper.

Look at the countries that got it right. Botswana has held regular, competitive elections for decades and has used its wealth to build institutions rather than private fortunes. Mauritius has rotated power peacefully and built one of the continent's most resilient economies on the back of open markets and accountable government. Ghana has survived close, bitterly contested elections and still handed power to its opponents when the voters demanded it. Senegal, in 2024, showed the continent what a citizenry can do when it refuses to accept a leader's attempt to postpone a vote. Its people took to the streets, its Constitutional Council ruled against the delay, and the democratic process continued. These are not perfect nations. But they prove the choice is real. Cameroon can choose the same path.

Here is what Cameroonians should demand, starting now. Release every person detained in the post-election crackdown or charge them publicly and give them fair trials. Restore the Cameroon National Salvation Front and any other suspended party to full legal standing. Lift the ban on public debate about the president's health, because a government that forbids questions is a government that has something to hide. Fill the vice presidency through a transparent process that the opposition and civil society can scrutinize. Appoint an electoral commission with independent members chosen through open consultation, and let international and domestic observers monitor the February 7 vote without obstruction. Civil society, the private sector, the churches and the diaspora should all put their names to these demands, because a free economy cannot grow in a country where the rule of law is a rumour.

The African Union and the regional bodies that claim to protect democratic norms must stop issuing polite statements about "calm" and "restraint." Calm is what a graveyard feels like. The AU's own charter condemns unconstitutional changes of power and the abuse of state force against citizens. Cameroon has earned that scrutiny, and it should receive it.

So to every Cameroonian reading this, and to every African who has ever stood in a line to vote and watched that vote be stolen: this is your moment to refuse the script. Demand the release of the detained. Demand a real opposition. Demand a debate about who will lead you when Paul Biya can no longer do so. Demand an election on February 7 that you can trust, with ballots counted in front of witnesses and results published for all to see. The date is set. Now it is your turn to make the date mean something.

Based on reporting by ALJAZEERA