He is described as a dimwit with untested strategic knowledge, easily manipulable by French Cameroun—his ancestral homeland. Ambazonians and everyone else can see it clearly, except him.
By The Independentist news desk
Who is Tapang Ivo, and why is he being discussed?
Tapang Ivo parades himself on social media like a general without an army and a scholar without a chair. Once the loudest voice in the diaspora, shouting about strategy, revolution, and data, his voice today rings hollow.
He is described as a dimwit with untested strategic knowledge, easily manipulable by French Cameroun—his ancestral homeland. Ambazonians and everyone else can see it clearly, except him.
This is the same man who championed the killing of Ambazonians alongside Capo Daniel of the ADF, made videos openly encouraging kidnappings, basked in online notoriety, and now serves the very Yaoundé regime he once pretended to oppose.
Why does he call himself “Professor,” and is it legitimate?
Tapang continues to call himself “Professor,” as if holding a Ph.D. in something vaguely described as “data science” automatically gives him that title. It does not.
Having a doctorate does not make anyone a professor. Only an official appointment at a recognized academic institution can confer that title. Like many in French Cameroun, he parades degrees like trophies but remains intellectually hollow.
His rightful place should be in a classroom, not on Facebook. And let’s be clear: there is no academic title conferment on Facebook.
His self-promotion is as absurd as Biya still calling himself “President” after turning the Republic into personal property. Both men have cheapened noble titles—one in academia, the other in statecraft.
What was Tapang’s infamous strategy for Issa Tchiroma?
He issued a ten-point strategy meant to position Issa Tchiroma as a national figure. But it wasn’t the work of a liberation strategist. It was the maneuvering of a political opportunist trying to serve two masters:
The Ambazonian struggle, from which he draws relevance, and
Yaoundé’s post-Biya political scene, through which he hopes to survive.
One of his first instructions was for Tchiroma to “rally all Ambazonian bloggers and leaders”, claiming they alone could shift momentum quickly.
To him, Ambazonian voices are tools to be summoned at will, not sovereign actors with their own history and convictions. He ignores the reality that these bloggers built their platforms through real risk—arrests, exile, family separations—while he sat abroad livestreaming bravado.
Trying to commandeer their credibility for Tchiroma’s survival is both insulting and opportunistic.
How does he propose Tchiroma should appear to the public?
He advised Tchiroma not to give the impression of being safe, but to pretend to be under house arrest, mimicking real Ambazonian suffering.
This is classic Tapang: theatre over truth. He wants Tchiroma to borrow the imagery of heroes like Mancho Bibixy and Tassang Wilfred, who endured real persecution.
Meanwhile, Ambazonian prisoners rot in jail, civilians flee burned villages, and Tapang coaches a regime loyalist on how to fake oppression for political gain.
What role does social media play in his strategy?
He tells Tchiroma to “go live daily” using mobile phones, as if livestreaming could replace actual resistance.
From the safety of his foreign home, he romanticizes going live, while real Ambazonians on the ground risk geolocation, arrest, or death for a single post. This exposes how detached he is from the reality of those whose struggle he claims to represent.
Why is his advice to “strike a deal” significant?
Tapang told Tchiroma to “strike a deal with Ambazonians”, claiming a few influential bloggers could change the course of events.
This reveals his mindset: for him, Ambazonia is a bargaining chip, not a cause.
He once encouraged kidnappings to “teach the diaspora a lesson” and glorified divisions. Now, he wants to broker political deals between oppressor and oppressed to serve the regime’s candidate.
How does he view the Ambazonian struggle?
He claims that “the real momentum across Cameroon lies in NOSO”, not to defend Ambazonian sovereignty, but to use it to boost Tchiroma’s campaign.
He doesn’t see the Ambazonian struggle as sacred. To him, it’s just a mobilization engine for Francophone succession politics.
What about his call for ghost towns?
He even tells Tchiroma to call for stockpiling and ghost towns, as if tactics born out of blood and resistance could be recycled for political pressure.
Ghost towns were never political gimmicks. They were a collective act of defiance against annexation. Traders starved, taxi drivers were shot, families were terrorized. Yet Tapang casually folds them into his playbook like campaign tricks.
How does his self-image contrast with reality?
Throughout all this, he insists on being addressed as “Professor Tapang Ivo.”
But a Ph.D. alone does not make a professor. His supposed specialty, “data science,” is vaguely described and almost laughable in the context of national liberation strategy.
He uses titles the way he uses resistance slogans—for branding, not substance. Like Biya, he has emptied noble titles of their meaning.
What does Tapang Ivo ultimately represent?
He represents the archetype of the diaspora opportunist:
posing as a revolutionary to stay relevant,
whispering to the regime to secure a future seat at the table.
Ambazonians remember his words, his videos, the kidnappings he endorsed, and the lives damaged under his digital megaphone.
His latest move—coaching Issa Tchiroma—is not liberation. It is betrayal, wrapped in big grammar and livestreams.
Final Message
Ambazonia’s struggle will not be brokered by a self-styled professor with a Facebook Ph.D. and two masters.
History will remember Tapang Ivo not as a strategist, but as a braggart who cheapened titles, betrayed his people, and tried to sell a revolution to the highest bidder.
The Independentist news desk
