Across Cameroon and Ivory Coast, old guards continue to hold on to power despite growing calls for change. Their decades-long grip reflects a deeper African problem, where democracy often stops at the ballot box, and leadership becomes a lifetime title.
When Cameroon’s long-serving leader, Paul Biya, was declared the winner of yet another election, the reaction across the country was not one of celebration but of resignation. At 92, Biya has been in power since 1982. His rule has outlived several generations of Cameroonians, and yet, he shows no sign of stepping aside.
In Ivory Coast, Alassane Ouattara, who has been president since 2010, was recently re-elected for another term. At 83, his continued stay in power has stirred debates about succession and democracy.
Many Ivorians had hoped he would pave the way for younger leadership after his second term ended in 2020, but he chose instead to run again, arguing that the country needed “stability.”
Across Africa, this pattern repeats itself like a broken record. Presidents who once promised change have turned into symbols of the very systems they claimed to oppose.
Paul Biya, now one of the world’s oldest presidents, has spent 43 years in power. His rare public appearances and long stays abroad often raise questions about who truly runs Cameroon. Yet, every election seems to deliver the same result, Biya wins again. Opposition parties allege manipulation, but protests are swiftly crushed. Many young Cameroonians have known no other leader their entire lives.
In Ivory Coast, Ouattara’s story is slightly different but no less controversial. His decision to seek a third term came after the sudden death of his chosen successor, Amadou Gon Coulibaly, many saw his return to the ballot as a political strategy to keep control within his inner circle. His victory was followed by protests that left dozens dead. To critics, it was a reminder that African leaders often blur the line between constitutional amendments and personal ambition.
This unwillingness to leave power is not unique to these two countries. It’s part of a broader political culture that treats leadership as a lifelong entitlement.
Across the continent, the list of long-serving rulers is long, Uganda’s Yoweri Museveni has ruled since 1986, Equatorial Guinea’s Teodoro Obiang Nguema since 1979, and Congo-Brazzaville’s Denis Sassou Nguesso for most of the past 45 years.
The pattern is clear: once in power, these leaders rarely step down willingly. Some rewrite constitutions to extend their terms, others weaken opposition parties or use the military to silence dissent. They hold elections that appear democratic on paper but are tightly controlled in reality.
For ordinary citizens, this endless cycle of recycled leadership has real consequences. Youth unemployment in many of these countries is high. Access to quality education and healthcare remains poor, corruption thrives, yet, leaders who have been in power for decades continue to promise the same reforms they failed to deliver.
Cameroon’s young population is a telling example. Over 60% of the country’s citizens are under 25, yet decisions about their future are made by men in their 80s and 90s. Many young people feel locked out of politics and disillusioned about democracy. The same sense of fatigue is spreading in Ivory Coast, where youth participation in elections is declining.
So why don’t these leaders allow others to rule?
The answer lies in a mix of fear, ego, and the lack of strong democratic systems. Many of these presidents came to power through coups, civil wars, or political crises. They see themselves as indispensable, as the only ones capable of holding their fragile nations together. Some genuinely believe that their departure would lead to chaos. Others simply fear prosecution for corruption or human rights abuses once they leave office.
In countries where state institutions are weak, power becomes personal. The leader controls everything, the army, the courts, the media. Anyone who challenges the system becomes an enemy of the state. This concentration of power makes transitions almost impossible.
There is also the issue of political grooming. Many African leaders fail to prepare credible successors. Instead, they surround themselves with loyalists who depend on their survival in power. When they finally leave or die in office, the country is thrown into uncertainty.
That’s why coups have returned in recent years across parts of West and Central Africa. From Mali to Gabon, soldiers have justified their takeovers as a response to failed civilian leadership.
But these coups are not the solution either. They only replace one strongman with another. The deeper problem remains: African politics still treats leadership as ownership.
You can trace this mindset to colonial history. When independence came, power shifted from foreign rulers to local elites, not necessarily to the people.
Many of today’s leaders inherited systems designed to concentrate authority, not share it. Decades later, little has changed. Constitutions are amended, opposition voices are stifled, and elections become rituals that legitimise the same faces.
The cost of this stagnation is visible, In Cameroon, public services are collapsing while insecurity in the Anglophone regions deepens. In Ivory Coast, economic progress coexists with political tension and a fragile peace. Citizens crave stability, but true stability cannot exist without accountability.
There are glimmers of hope, though countries like Ghana, Kenya, and Nigeria despite their flaws have managed to experience peaceful transfers of power. These examples show that change is possible when institutions are stronger than individuals.
But the lesson from Cameroon and Ivory Coast is that democracy without term limits becomes hollow. It breeds frustration, apathy, and sometimes violence. People begin to lose faith in the ballot box. When that happens, democracy itself becomes a joke.
It’s also a generational issue. Africa is the world’s youngest continent, with an average age of 19. Yet, it’s ruled mostly by men old enough to be great-grandfathers.
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This disconnect explains why many policies fail to address the realities of today’s youth unemployment, education, technology, and social mobility. Leaders who don’t live in the same world as their citizens can’t understand their struggles.
Every generation deserves a chance to lead. But in many African countries, young people grow up only to inherit the same names and faces. When change doesn’t come through the ballot, frustration builds. And history shows that when people are denied peaceful change, they eventually seek it through unrest.
Cameroon and Ivory Coast stand at that crossroads. Citizens are demanding more than survival; they want inclusion and renewal. The longer leaders cling to power, the deeper the distrust grows. Democracy isn’t meant to be a lifetime appointment, It’s supposed to be a system where leadership changes hands peacefully, allowing fresh ideas and energy to move the nation forward.
Until African leaders embrace that truth, the continent will keep recycling old men and old excuses. The world will keep watching as democracy is reduced to a performance one where the same actors never leave the stage.
For now, Cameroon’s Paul Biya remains the world’s oldest head of state, and Ivory Coast’s Alassane Ouattara shows no sign of stepping aside. Their legacies will likely be judged not by how long they ruled, but by how they failed to let others lead.
And that is Africa’s greatest political tragedy not just the men who refuse to go, but the systems that keep letting them stay.
In conclusion, Leadership is meant to serve, not to last forever. Africa’s struggle isn’t just about aging presidents, it’s about systems that protect them and silence accountability.
Until the continent learns to separate personal power from national progress, democracy will remain fragile and incomplete.
Cameroon and Ivory Coast are mirrors reflecting a larger truth, Africa doesn’t lack capable young leaders, it lacks room for them to rise. The day power becomes a duty instead of a throne, Africa will finally begin to move forward.