Cameroon’s major cities have taken on the look of a country under siege. In Yaoundé, Douala, Garoua, Bafoussam and Maroua, soldiers are stationed at street corners, armoured vehicles patrol the roads, and new checkpoints appear by the hour. Civilian movement has been restricted, and the atmosphere is tense. All this is happening even before the official results of the 12 October presidential election have been announced.
The situation raises a crucial question: if Cameroonians truly voted overwhelmingly for President Paul Biya, as government supporters claim, why is his regime acting as if it expects revolt rather than celebration?
Opposition candidate Issa Tchiroma Bakary declared on 14 October that he had won the election. He cited what he called “the truth of the ballot box” and pointed to faulty vote tallies that, in his view, distorted the real outcome. Official results have yet to be made public, but government sources insist that Biya and his ruling Cameroon People’s Democratic Movement (CPDM) secured victory. Between this expectation of a Biya win and the lack of an official proclamation lies a deep sense of uncertainty, and a heavy military presence that has become impossible to ignore.
If the CPDM truly achieved a landslide, even in the war-torn English-speaking regions of the North West and South West, the natural scene would be one of jubilation. Yet the reality is different. Streets are quiet, gatherings are discouraged, and reports of threats and intimidation circulate widely. Instead of scenes of celebration, the country is witnessing fear and control. It feels less like a regime basking in victory and more like one preparing to contain anger.
Observers say this tension reveals an uncomfortable truth: the government may not be confident that the results reflect the will of the people. If the vote was indeed decisive and in Biya’s favour, it would be difficult to justify the deployment of thousands of soldiers in nearly every major town.
Doubts also hang over the results in the conflict-hit Anglophone regions. Years of separatist violence, school closures and mass displacement have severely reduced voter registration and turnout. In many communities, polling stations were deserted or disrupted by security operations. It is therefore hard to reconcile claims of “overwhelming support” with the realities on the ground in these zones.
The government’s heavy-handed posture also suggests it is preparing to treat dissent as illegitimate before the official results are even announced. A CPDM office was attacked in Dschang, and protesters clashed with security forces in Douala, adding to an atmosphere of nervous anticipation. The message to citizens, critics say, is clear: stay quiet and do not question the outcome.
For an election to be accepted, it must not only be fair but also appear fair. When citizens see soldiers on every street, hear stories of ballot stuffing, and watch protests being suppressed before any official winner is declared, trust erodes.
The government insists it has nothing to fear and that the process was credible. But the massive security deployment tells a different story—one of a regime that may be guarding not its victory, but its survival. If the people truly voted for Biya, there should be no need to shield him from them.
