Unlocking the Door to Democracy in Cameroon: Obliterating theSocio-Cultural Foundations of Corruption

"Unlocking the Door to Democracy in Cameroon"

By Emmanuel Konde

 "You may think that I have money because of the things I have accomplished in this compound. But the only reasons why I have achieved this much is because I have consistently deprived myself of many pleasures of life. I eat rather sparingly, mostly when I am hungry. I am not promiscuous. I do not smoke, seldom drink, and do not frequent the night clubs. I leave according to the means at my disposal".Emmanuel Konde

"In many of our Cameroonian and African cultures we share similarities in terms of cultural attributes as well as the prohibitions imposed on us not to question them. A stern stare from “papa” carries more weight in terms of shaping our respect for outdated elements of culture than the law. Yet, any culture that prohibits questioning is doomed to decrepitude and stagnation". Emmanuel Konde

"African kinship can be likened to a patron-client relationship, a patronage system in which the giver is master and the receiver servant". Emmanuel Konde

          

                            Introduction

     The Cameroon government is often accused of corruption, which it definitely did not invent. Corruption is endemic in all Cameroonian cultures. It is from these cultures that corruption sprung nationally, flowered, and became internalized in governance as well as a variety of social relations. Short of presenting its historical evolution, one merely has to examine how people function in Cameroonian society—with particular reference to the elementary level of social relationships where the interplay of those in leadership positions and their extended family members and tribes people takes place, to come to an understanding of the stranglehold that corruption exerts on many.

     Let’s consider the following categories of individuals in Cameroonian society: a recent university graduate who has just landed a job; a bureaucrat recently promoted to directorship; and a politician appointed minister or elected to parliament. No sooner the graduate lands a job, the bureaucrat promoted, or politician risen to minister or parliamentarian than the entire extended family, and sometimes a whole village of tribesmen—kinsmen, come calling on the new “big man” to deliver the goods. Yes, the big man is expected to deliver whether he has the goods or not because the prevailing culture dictates that the big man must make or find the goods. Members of the extended family and village tribesmen must be fed, their health, schooling, etc., catered to by the big man. It is the big man’s responsibility and obligation to take care of all of his kinsmen.

     The pressure can be overwhelming. It sometimes causes premature death, especially among the rare honest ones who cannot withstand the increasing demands of family and tribe pushing them to do that which is improper and wrong. Whether at home or abroad, kinsmen and kinswomen make bogus demands on those they consider to be successful. Unfortunately, these irrational demands are increasingly met, time and time again, in the name of family, clan, and tribe. When in 1998-1999 I had the opportunity to teach at the University of Buea, I decided to examine this social malaise in my historical methods graduate course through classroom discussions and student research, snippets of which are present below.

          Local Research on the Burden of Kinship

     Kinship, outdated though it is, is still the organizing principle of modern Cameroonian society. It was useful in pre-modern, pre-monetized, agrarian tribal society. But it has no useful function today in so far as individual wealth accumulation or national development is concerned. Kinship fuels corruptions, hinders the development of democratic institutions, holds captive many potential citizens under autocratic grip of traditional rulers, and obligates the powerful to render illegal services to family and clan members at the expense of the state. Indeed, some Cameroonians cower to the demands of kinship because they fear being “bewitched” by extended family members.

     I was privileged in 1999 to engage graduate students enrolled in my Historical Methods seminar course at the University of Buea in a discussion about the burden of kinship in Cameroonian society. These discussions were video-taped and I have the luxury of watching them at my leisure more than a decade after the fact. One of the stipulated requirements for completing the course was that the students should employ a combination of their personal experiences, primary research data collected from field interviews, and secondary sources in writing short reflective essays on the topic: “The Burden of Kinship, African Family Structure, and the Perpetuation of Poverty…”

     In a class of 23 graduate students, there were principals, directors, bureaucrats, and struggling dependents. Some of these students who occupied positions of authority openly discussed the operations of corruption in their own jobs. It was evident in both the discussion and their research findings that corruption is accepted by all, practiced by all, and more often it is initiated by the “giver”—the man who wants something from the “receiver”. Poorly paid and strapped with the ever-increasing demands of family members and tribesmen, few in positions of power who can resist the extra cash offered them by those who need their services.

     Some of my students wrote about their personal experiences; others about the experiences of their parents, relatives, or friends they interviewed. Research on secondary sources, drawn mainly from sociology, provided background information on the existing literature and was used to test and/or support their primary research findings. In as much as my students had lived the experiences that they were charged to research, reflect upon, and write about, their findings were at once illuminating and instructive, providing them a rare intellectual insight into the dynamics at work within their respective families as well as the society in which they issue.

                            The Big Man Syndrome

     At stake is the existential problem that confronts one, which is the “big-man-by-position” but lacks the personal resources to sustain his big-manism. A man with limited personal resources entrusted with the responsibility of managing unlimited state resources, has no training in ethics, and is plagued with the unceasing, grueling demands from kinsmen. This is the untenable situation faced by many in Cameroon who must play the role of big man at whatever cost. It is a socio-cultural problem of obligation that can sometimes be escaped only by distance. Little wonder that some in the Diaspora do not quite understand the intricacies of corruption and how the culturally-defined obligation to help extended family members and fellow tribesmen intersects with governance. Removed from the environment in which this culture of corruption is fomented, some elements of the Diaspora are too frequently quick to criticize the system negatively. But the "paysans", those who live in the trenches, see things differently and, they too, often encourage bush fallers to help perpetuate corruption with the seemingly pragmatic argument that if you do not give your project will not be realized.

     Kinship may be alien to some Cameroonians; but for the majority, especially those who grew up with kinfolk and had the opportunity of partaking in a ritual hot meal of roasted cocoyam with salted palm oil during the rainy season, what some critics call corruption they understand it in terms of the hot meal described here. The bond that forms among those who partake in ritual, is very strong. The attachment is so strong that some fear breaking loose from it to be tantamount to sacrilege. This analogy is meant to explain the socio-cultural basis of a type of corruption, which emanates from kinship obligation, and not as a rationalization nor justification of the practice. The practice of corruption is not unique to Cameroon; it is commonplace in much of Africa where kinship remains the organizing principle.

     The big man responsibility for the entire kin group is an enduring cultural attribute of most African societies. It predates colonialism and was reinforced by colonialism. Family pressure and the need to project a self-image of importance that often far-exceeds available means to sustain it are partly responsible for this social malaise. Yes, this social malaise is more insidious than we can ever imagine.

Unlocking the Door to Democracy in Cameroon II:

Rethinking Kinship Perpetuation of Corruption, Poverty, and Dependency…

     In many of our Cameroonian and African cultures we share similarities in terms of cultural attributes as well as the prohibitions imposed on us not to question them. A stern stare from “papa” carries more weight in terms of shaping our respect for outdated elements of culture than the law. Yet any culture that prohibits questioning is doomed to decrepitude and stagnation. We question things in order to become knowledgeable about them. The questioning of things constitutes the first step towards enlightenment and progressive change. I have decided to question our overly extensive kinship system not because it is intrinsically bad but because as an organizing principle of social organization it has outlived its usefulness. The truth is that I am a beneficiary of African kinship and, even as I write rather harshly about the system, I am dishing out my limited resources to my kinsmen and have been doing so for the past 20 years. Nevertheless, it is about time we confronted this issue with the aim of either reforming or abolishing it outright.

                              The Problem in Perspective

     African kinship is a form of societal tyranny… a system of indoctrination that is ingrained in us through socialization from birth to the grave. In societies where all blood relatives are brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers, where the distinction between cousin and brother is meaningless, the line demarcating the individual and the collectivity is blurred. With the individual subsumed under the collectivity mindset, he becomes somewhat depersonalized and loses his individuality to the group. And so does his wealth, because the lazy many must feed on the hardworking one, diminishing his wealth and reducing him to poverty, much like his lazy brethren. These are the egalitarian societies that early European anthropologists who visited Africa wrote about. African kinship can be likened to a patron-client relationship, a patronage system in which the giver is master and the receiver servant.

     Unfortunately for the dependent servant, many of the servants would remain servants forever, always expecting the master to provide. This relationship is one of the major factors that foster our acceptance of autocrats, making some of us to prostrate ourselves by kneeling and bowing in a posture of surrender when in the presence of our local chiefs who we were indoctrinated to believe to be all-powerful and capable of inflicting harm on us from near and far. Similarly, some of us are wont to fear that if an uncle’s request for money or other service goes unmet that uncle somehow possesses mystical powers to inflict harm on us by use of voodoo or juju. For many educated Cameroonians, superstition still governs their lives—particularly the fear of being bewitched, which is a compelling factor that compels them to observe the irrational demands of kinship obligation against their personal interests. With the expansion of rational liberal education, and the passage of time, however, this fear and the irrational response it elicits from many will gradually wither away. This exposé—an admixture of scholarship, personal experience, original thought, and observation of men and women interacting as kinsfolk fulfilling their kinship obligations in Cameroon—constitutes an important contribution to a re-evaluation of the merits of kinship as the dominant principle of social organization in this industrial and technological epoch.

             Kinship and Transfer of Responsibility

     I have read the critical comments to the first part of this discourse (entitled “Unlocking the Door to Democracy”. Some of the commentators supported, while others opposed, my elaboration of kinship as a source of corruption and many of the ills that plague modern Cameroonian society. I welcome and thank everyone who has contributed to this expedition into enlightenment. It should be known, however, that I did not propose to provide a fix-all solution to this troubling malaise; and, even if I could, I would not try. I would rather we grappled with the problem individually and collectively, and it is towards that end the second part of this discourse is devoted.

     I begin with some personal experiences with kinship, lest I be accused of detaching myself from its debilitating influence. I am a product of kinship and cannot escape who I am. I have met the obligations of kinship in the past and continue to do so but from a rational point of departure determined by the resources I could expend on relatives. I can only give that which I have after taking care of my own family. My first priority is my immediate family; my kinsmen take a second place. In so far as kinship obligation is concerned, I employ the rational choice model, using the cost-benefit analysis in making decision about my resources and not the sentimental approach that characterizes the responses of many in executing their obligations to kinsmen.

     Some twelve years ago when I returned to Cameroon to work for one academic year, I met a cousin of mine who was about the same age with one of my children living with my mother. Her parents were in Douala. I enrolled my daughter and her in school. A few months later her father, my uncle, visited me in Limbe and sought an audience to discuss, as he put it, a very important matter. My uncle told me that he was going to hand over his daughter to me so that she may become my daughter. He promised to surrender her birth certificate to me as a sign of transfer of his responsibility to me. There was nothing unusual with my uncle’s proposal, but it was the kind of proposal that one learns about as something experienced by others. It never occurred to me that it could happen to me. Accordingly, this transaction seemed to me as rather bizarre. The hot blood of anger suddenly began boiling inside me. I took a few minutes to consider the strangeness of it all and to compose myself. I then turned to my uncle and, looking him straight in the eyes, inquired of him where the nonsense he was telling came from? I pointedly asked him a series of questions, some of which ran as follows: When I came here and enrolled your daughter in school did you ask me to do so? When you decided to get married and beget children, did you consult me? Now, tell me my dear uncle, why do you want to hand over your daughter to me? What about my own children, who am I going to hand them over to? The man was stunned and sat there silently until his departure. For some strange reason, kinsmen can decide to marry and have children in the hope that a relative will be saddled with responsibility of caring for their children. This exploitation of kinship is the most debilitating aspect of that institution. It permits lazy family members to transfer their responsibilities to hardworking and successful family members because they believe that they are owed certain obligations by virtue of sanguinary ties.

     On numerous other occasions other stranger things happened. Whenever a visitor came my mother would insist that I give each and every one of them money, usually not less than 5000 FCFA each because anything less would bring shame to her. One evening my mother and I had a serious conversation during which I told her that if I must give 5000 FCFA to every person who visits me, by the end of my stay I would be as poor as those whom I am giving so lavishly to. I added that my three children would be deprived of an inheritance, and there will be no person in the family who would be the giver. Something I did not understand then and still do not understand today, is why my not giving lavishly to visitors would bring shame to my mother. And I told my mother that “were I to be so stupid as to buy into the irrational logic of giving so as to avoid shaming you, I would end being as poor as you”. That evening my mother wept, saying that she could not believe I could speak the words I had just spoken to her. I held my ground. Some three weeks later after giving my words some thought, she confessed that what I had told her on that fateful evening was correct. I replied that “I know”.

          Kinship Obligation Asserted as a Natural Right

     In 2005 I received a stunning email message from a cousin of mine. In the message one sentence stood out: my cousin asserted that I am obligated to help him because we are cousins, our mothers are sisters. I could not understand his assertion, which made me very angry each time I read his message. And I read that sentence many times over but could not still come to a full understanding of its import. Anger, interspersed with guilt feelings, engulfed my entire being for days as I tried to grapple with this kinship obligation problem. I wondered silently in despair whether something was wrong with me for adamantly refusing to accept the dictate of kinship as articulated by my cousin. I wondered about the mental orientation of my cousin that propelled him make such a claim on me. Yes, it was a very troubling assertion. What if ten or more of my many cousins, nephews, and nieces were to make similar claims on my limited resources on the basis of sanguinary kinship? What if I did not have the resources to fulfill my kinship obligations to them but had access to state funds? What would I do to lift the burden thrust on me by societal forces whose construction I consciously played no role at all?

                            Monetary Demands

     If I were in Cameroon occupying a position of “big man” with access to state funds, I would probably be corrupt not by choice but by circumstances beyond my control. During the last decade or so I have had to be directly responsible for at least 12 and at most 14 persons, including myself, in the United States and Cameroon. How I have managed this responsibility without being driven to craziness and premature death still baffles me. In 2001 when I visited my extended family in Cameroon, an uncle came from Douala to visit with me. He sought an audience with me in the presence of my grandfather and my mother during which he demanded money from me for a business project he had not thoroughly thought through. When I asked him what manner of business he wanted to go into, he abruptly began to stutter. But he was clear as to how much money he wanted from me: between 150,000 FCFA and 200,000 FCFA.

     It seemed to me a strange demand, particularly because of the lack of clarity about the business venture he wanted to undertake. But I had to handle it with care, with diplomatic skill, so as to not offend. I told my uncle that in spite of appearances, I did not have the kind of money he might think I had. I asked him if he knew the kind of job I was doing and he replied that I was a “teacher”. When I asked him if he knew whether teachers were paid huge salaries in Cameroon and he retorted in the negative. I offered that the same applied in America and then proceeded to lecture my uncle as follows: You may think that I have money because of the things I have accomplished in this compound. But the only reasons why I have achieved this much is because I have consistently deprived myself of many pleasures of life. I eat rather sparingly, mostly when I am hungry. I am not promiscuous. I do not smoke, seldom drink, and do not frequent the night clubs. I leave according to the means at my disposal. I do not travel to see the world except when making my annual pilgrimage to Cameroon. Back in America, we are five in my household; here in Cameroon, there are nine people in this compound: my grandfather, my mother, my aunt and her husband, two university students, and three elementary school children. I am responsible for the upkeep of 14 persons. Yes, I alone must pay their school fees, provide shelter, food, water, light, clothing, healthcare, and all other incidentals. How do you think one person, I alone, is able to do all these things with a teacher’s salary, I asked my uncle? By the time I was done narrating this catalogue of responsibilities, my uncle was completely disarmed and, if I am not mistaken, he must have been very sorry for me. I concluded by telling my uncle that I will be leaving tomorrow. Even though I do not have the money right now to fulfill his request, he should return in a few months to pick-up the 200,000 FCFA from my mother. However, the money will not be free. It was investment capital I was lending to him at no interest. At the end of the first year, he will have to bring back my 200,000 FCFA.

     After my lecture was concluded, I gave my uncle 10,000 FCFA and promised to send him the money in a month’s time. Thirty days later I fulfilled my promise but my uncle never came to collect the money. The year was 2001. The next time he visited again was in September 2006 on the occasion of the death of my grandfather. Even then, I am told, he did not inquire about the money.

     My uncle’s request is illustrative of the social malaise imposed on many by kinship, which is a major source of involuntary corruption in Cameroon. If I were resident in Cameroon working for the government, and if I were a “big man” with access to state funds, there is little doubt that I would probably be pushed to swindle the public to help my uncle because kinship obligation dictates that I help him at any cost. But kinship is not the only reason why some Cameroonians pilfer the coffers of the state. Some people are by nature greedy and thus habituated to stealing. Kleptocracy cannot, therefore, be blamed on kinship obligation.

                 The Consumption Ethos of Kinship

     If properly deployed, kinship can be used as a strategy for social capital accumulation that could be invested skillfully for the family and clan. In reality, however, what obtains from kinship is inimical to the development of individualism, a precondition for entrepreneurism. Whereas kinship collectivism leads to the exploitation of the wealth of the individual for the good of the group, its end result is not accumulation but the consumption of wealth and the perpetuation of poverty and egalitarianism. It is the rare and exceptional individual who can break away from this egalitarian system, which characterizes kinship societies. The burden of kinship breeds poverty, diminishes individualism, often kills entrepreneurship, and fosters egalitarianism. Indeed, in any society where the individual is subsumed under the collectivity, where the individual is important only as a member of the collectivity, the drive to succeed considerably diminishes as the fruits of individual success are squandered by the demands of less industrious kinsmen.

     To be sure, the transfer of responsibility from one kinsman to another is not unique to Cameroon. In every society where there is rampant poverty, you find strong kinship ties, the perpetuation of which if handled irrationally in the name of culture and tradition, unfailingly leads to the reproduction of poverty. I have discussed kinship with my Nigerian and Ghanaian colleagues and have learned that the practice of kinship dependency is the same in Nigeria and Ghana. But my encounter with a young woman in the summer of 2010 revealed yet another novel dimension of this kinship thing.

                              Echoes from Guinea Bissau

     Last summer I met a woman from Guinea Bissau on an Air France flight from Atlanta to Paris. Somehow, our conversation gravitated to the debilitating problem of the burden of kinship responsibility on members of the African Diaspora in Europe and the United States. She had travelled to Atlanta to help her younger sister who had just given birth. Even though she had other responsibilities in Paris, kinship obligation compelled her to travel to Atlanta. More galling than this were the stories we exchanged about the responsibilities our cultures called upon us to discharge vis-à-vis our relatives who, for some strange reasons, believe that we owe them something.

     This was a young 35 years old woman. Her polygamist father decided to transfer the responsibility of educating all his children to her and she, for good or ill, had accepted that responsibility to the detriment of her own life and happiness. One could see that this young woman was very worried. The weight of the responsibility placed on her by her father could be discerned on her contorted forehead. Cast in a position of power, influence and accessibility to state funds in Guinea Bissau, this young woman would no doubt contrive schemes to pilfer state funds in order to discharge the responsibility thrust on her by her father. Hence, the cycle of corruption is spun and continues to rotate ad infinitum.

     Perhaps the most debilitating aspect of this type of involuntary corruption is its end products: cover-up and the proliferation of nepotism. The big man or woman caught in this ever swirling system of corruption cannot but seek ways to cover up for his or her thievery and the thievery of her kinsmen and tribesmen. One of the ways for one to do so is to encircle himself or herself with family members or trusted tribesmen and to deny similar jobs to qualified individuals who do not belong. This practice of hoarding governmental positions creates nepotism, which in turn leads to the entrenchment and legitimating of corruption, making it very difficult to penetrate and destroy the culture.

Unlocking the Key to Democracy in Cameroon IV:

Gerontocracy Hinders the Development of Democracy

     Rewind! Two years ago on March 3, 2009, Dibussi Tande wrote an interesting article entitled “Gerontocracy in Cameroon—The Old Men Who Govern Us” and proceeded to defend his thesis by way of discussing in more specific detail the ages and longevity in power of the men at the apex of power in Cameroon. Not long after, I wrote something not so much in response to Dibussi’s article, but as a broad explanation of the place of gerontocracy in Cameroonian society. In “Gerontocracy: An Indigenous Constitution of Cameroon,” I argued that gerontocracy was an institution indigenous to Cameroon and could be seen everywhere in our traditional and modern systems of political organization. What I did not emphasize then was that gerontocracy is an offshoot of kinship. As an integral part of Cameroon’s tribal and now its national political culture, one cannot expect to have gerontocracy in the periphery (traditional governments) and have something different at the center (national government).

     In as much as some have erroneously berated me for equating the traditional system of government with the modern national government of Cameroon, it would be difficult for them to deny that it is the periphery (traditional) that feeds the center (national); and that all Cameroonians are socialized to accept and actively participate in the kinship system from which gerontocracy ensues. Therefore, the distinction that some would like to make between the chiefdom and the state cannot but be consigned to abstraction. Such a distinction has no grounding in reality. The chiefdom and the modern state of Cameroon are fused in a symbiotic relationship. The existence of the one depends on the existence of the other, making the chance of the intrusion of democracy a far-fetched political proposition. For democracy to have a chance in Cameroon the marriage between chiefdom and state must first be brought to an end.

                                           Gerontocracy

     Gerontocracy is commonly defined as rule by old men. It was a system of political leadership that ran across all indigenous cultures of pre-colonial, and still runs in all traditional cultures of contemporary, Cameroon. As an institution, younger men and women were in principle, or theoretically, excluded from it. In practice, however, allowance was made for younger men and older women to become part of gerontocracy, albeit with the blessing of male elders. Hence, on occasion, women past menopause mainly those related to the male-dominated ruling class, would be co-opted and integrated into that institution.

     Among the peoples of the western grass fields there existed a female political title of “queen mother” or mafo, among the Bamiléké, and among the Bamoum, and Yaa among the Nso, etc., etc. These were women made exceptional in male-dominated society by the same institution that guaranteed male control of the levers of power. But it was among the Bamiléké people that the position of “queen mother” (mafo) found its highest level of dignified expression. When, for example, the mafo participated in the deliberations of the kamué, the administrative council of the chiefdom in which she took precedence over the chief himself, she dressed in masculine attire. Her status was like no other Bamiléké woman’s: She owned her own property, could undertake any commercial activities, choose her own husband, and could commit adultery with impunity.

     Significantly, gerontocracy was intrinsically tied to kinship obligation, which mandated that younger kinfolk should defer leadership to elderly men. As a point of fact, gerontocracy went beyond the political: it also entailed elderly men controlling ritual knowledge (religion or spirituality) and the sexuality of young people of both sexes. Until the elders gave their consent, the young man could not marry and start his own household, and was doomed to remain a dependent. As for women, gerontocracy insured that a young woman would pass from under the supervision of one man to another throughout her life: from under the control of her father at birth, to under the control of her husband in marriage and, as was too often the case, to yet under the control of other men after successive intervals of widowhood. Male authority over females was all but complete in traditional society.

                             Democracy vs. Gerontocracy

     Politically speaking, gerontocracy is perhaps the most enduring vestige of kinship in contemporary Cameroon. It is probably the only traditional institution that has transcended its tribal origins and penetrated the fabric of modern national politics. Gerontocracy has not been transformed an iota; the modern political system has adjusted itself to meet the requirements of gerontocracy as defined by kinship relations in Cameroon. Yes, gerontocracy stands astride alongside the major political structures of the modern Cameroonian state. In so far as the exercise of political power is concerned, the nation-state gerontocracy is supported by the tribal autocracy.

     Among all the traditional institutions of the societies of Cameroon, gerontocracy is the most resilient at both the tribal and national levels of government. It plays in nearly every facet of Cameroonian society, as age and knowledge of the world are seen as inseparable, and are assigned to the elderly. No sooner a young man challenges an elderly man than the younger person is reminded of the age of the person he is challenging. Knowledge and power are therefore a preserve of the old. As Chinua Achebe wrote in his novel Things Fall Apart, "age, in the Igbo society is revered". Creativity and innovation, the avenues where the individual agency of social change resides, are effectively scuttled by the monopoly of knowledge and power by the old. The most sinister aspect of gerontocracy is the control of ritual knowledge by the elderly. Ritual knowledge entails expertise on culture-history and manipulation of natural forces. Some call the ability to control the forces of nature witchcraft, which the old employ sometimes in a cold-blooded manner against the aspiring young.

      Gerontocratic Co-optation of Women and Young Men

     Power is never so expertly and sweetly exerted as when potential adversaries are co-opted and integrated into the existing power structure and made to serve it. This is how gerontocracy operates with respect to succession to hereditary leadership by young men, and the integration of older women into that all-male dominated institutions. The example of the mafo's participation in the kamué is instructive of our understanding of gender and power relations, and is particularly telling of where real power resides in most of our traditional polities. By adorning herself in male garbs, the mafo effectively strips herself of her feminine attributes and becomes one of the old men who constitute the power structure--the gerontocracy.

     The same applies to the young man who is selected by the kwifon to succeed a deceased fon. By the act of selecting, made legitimate by the composition of the selectors, it should leave no doubt that new fon, though young, was co-opted by the kwifon into the power structure controlled by the old men, the gerontocracy. The young fon and the mafo, upon integration into the power structure would automatically lose their old attributes and assume the attributes of the gerontocracy. Gerontocracy, like patriarchy, though specifically noted as social institutions dominated by old men, have women supporters in them because these are first and foremost relatives of members of the kin-based power structure. The staying power of gerontocracy is derived from its ability to function in myriad ways. Any society based on kinship-approved gerontocracy can never transition into a democracy until it severs relations with primordial gerontocracy.

     For democracy to take root and thrive in Cameroon, a total transition or evolution from the tribal nature of our societies (in which the individual is held in check by the group) to a nation-state (in which the individual is at last freed from corporate bonds) must be affected. This process entails dismantling all outdated institutions with trappings of political influence, so that in the new Cameroon “only a sense of tribal identity” would remain as a holdover, a cultural relic, to be deposited in the grand museums we must construct to house them.

***Emmanuel Konde is a professor of history and political science at Albany State University in Georgia. He has also served his native country, Cameroon, as a Fulbright for a year, lecturing at the University of Buea. He is an author of many books and journal articles***.

 

"The problem of power is how to get men of power to live for the public rather than off the public." Robert F. Kennedy