On November 6, 2025, Cameroon’s capital Yaoundé witnessed a scene that has become all too familiar over the past four decades: Paul Biya, now 92 years old and the world’s oldest serving head of state, was sworn in for his eighth consecutive seven-year term as president. The ceremony, held at the National Assembly, took place under a heavy security presence, with military checkpoints and guarded roads reflecting the tense mood that has gripped the country since the disputed October election.
Official results gave Biya 53.66% of the vote, while his main challenger, Issa Tchiroma Bakary, secured 35.19%. Yet the numbers tell only part of the story. The vote, which saw a notably short campaign—Biya’s campaign leader reportedly spoke just once—was quickly marred by allegations of fraud and mass protests that erupted in major cities. According to Reuters, opposition leader Tchiroma declared himself the winner, insisting, “The will of the Cameroonian people was trampled that day, our sovereignty stolen in broad daylight. This is not democracy, it is electoral theft, a constitutional coup as blatant as it is shameful.”
Biya, who has ruled Cameroon since 1982, rejected these accusations. In his inaugural address, he struck a somber tone, acknowledging the gravity of the moment: “As I take office, I fully measure the seriousness of the situation our country is going through. I measure the number and severity of challenges we face. I measure the depth of frustrations, the scale of expectations.” He pledged to restore order, but pointedly blamed “irresponsible politicians and the diaspora” for inciting unrest, according to BBC and Reuters.
The unrest has come at a heavy price. Official government figures confirm at least four to five fatalities during the protests, but opposition groups and two United Nations sources cited by Reuters claim the death toll is far higher—up to 48 civilians killed by security forces. The violence drew swift condemnation from the European Union, African Union, and the United Nations, all of whom expressed concern over the government’s response and the safety of Cameroonian citizens.
Cameroon’s Constitutional Court dismissed eight separate petitions challenging the electoral process, citing a lack of evidence or jurisdiction to overturn the results. International observer missions, including the African Union, noted irregularities in the election but maintained that the process was largely peaceful, according to reports compiled by Mezha.net and other media outlets.
The country’s political landscape remains deeply polarized. While some Cameroonians see Biya’s continued rule as a source of stability amid regional insecurity, many—especially the youth—feel worn down by decades of unchanging leadership. More than 70% of Cameroon’s nearly 30 million people are under the age of 35, and most have known no other leader. Priscilla Ayimboh, a 40-year-old seamstress in Yaoundé, told the Associated Press, “I’m tired of Biya’s rule and I no longer care whatever he does. It’s a pity. I wonder what will become of Cameroon in the next seven years: there are no roads, water, and jobs.”
The sense of exhaustion is palpable. The country’s economy, once among Central Africa’s strongest, has slowed considerably due to governance issues, corruption, and ongoing conflict in the Anglophone regions. Despite abundant natural resources—oil, timber, cocoa—poverty and youth unemployment continue to rise. Analysts, including Munjah Vitalis Fagha from the University of Buea, describe the political atmosphere as “tense yet controlled,” marked by deep divisions between the ruling elite and a disillusioned populace. “The ceremony occurs amid calls for political renewal, ongoing security challenges in the Anglophone regions, and widespread concerns over governance and succession,” Fagha noted to The Associated Press.
Biya’s longevity in office has shaped the national psyche. He first assumed power in 1982, following the resignation of Cameroon’s first president. In 2008, a constitutional amendment abolished term limits, effectively clearing the way for Biya’s extended rule. If he completes this term, he will leave office at nearly 100 years old—an extraordinary milestone, yet one that has fueled persistent questions about succession and the concentration of power. His health, too, has been the subject of speculation, with reports that he spends much of his time in Europe, leaving governance to key party officials and family members.
The October 2025 election, held on the 19th, was marked by low voter turnout and widespread complaints from the opposition. The days following the vote saw deadly clashes between protesters and security forces, with a three-day lockdown imposed in several cities. Tchiroma, who previously served as a government spokesperson before resigning in June 2025, claimed that soldiers loyal to him had escorted him to a secure location, hinting at possible divisions within the military ranks. However, the scale and significance of any such split remain unclear.
Despite the turmoil, Biya’s government has promised to focus on economic reforms, national unity, and the rebuilding of conflict-affected areas. Yet, as many observers point out, there is skepticism about the likelihood of transformative change. His history of gradual, cautious governance and advanced age make bold new policies seem improbable. The international community, while recognizing Cameroon’s strategic importance in Central Africa, has largely adopted a wait-and-see approach, urging dialogue and respect for human rights.
For many Cameroonians, the future feels uncertain. The country stands at a crossroads, torn between a legacy of political continuity and a growing public desire for renewal. As Biya begins another term, the challenge ahead is daunting: to address long-standing issues of governance, economic hardship, and national identity under a leader whose presence has defined an era.
Whether this new term will bring stability or simply prolong the status quo remains to be seen. But for now, Cameroon’s fate continues to rest in the hands of its aging president, as a nation waits—sometimes anxiously, sometimes wearily—for real change.
