Contributed by Editor-in-Chief Ali Dan Ismael
In a moment of rare and thoughtful candour, the former United States Assistant Secretary of State for African Affairs, Honourable Tibor Nagy, stated during an interview on Ambazonian Television that “the Ambazonian leadership is in fragments — not fractions.”
This comment, made with the piercing clarity of a seasoned diplomat, captured the complex realities of Ambazonia’s political ecosystem and set off serious reflection within the diaspora and leadership circles alike.
Hon. Nagy’s choice of words was not arbitrary. Fractions imply proportional divisions of a functional whole — differences in ideology or roles that nonetheless remain interconnected. Fragments, by contrast, suggest broken pieces that are disconnected, misaligned, or disoriented — a far more troubling condition for any liberation movement.
It was a sober diagnosis of a movement long beleaguered by political rivalry, disinformation, and disruption. Yet far from sowing despair, this candid observation has prompted constructive reflection, most notably from President Dr. Samuel Ikome Sako, President of the Federal Republic of Ambazonia.
Speaking in response to Nagy’s observation, President Sako offered a powerful and clarifying perspective:
“There are individuals who, over time, have fallen off the path — not necessarily because they lack intelligence or relevance, but because of ideological differences or tactical missteps. Some of them still possess technical knowledge and a degree of credibility. If the need arises, the leadership must remain open to co-opting them back into the process.”
President Sako pointed to past efforts — particularly the Swiss-led mediation initiative — where he exercised discernment in drawing from across the spectrum of Ambazonian actors, including those who were no longer seen as politically central:
“We must learn from the wisdom of previous moments, such as when President Ayuk brought together nearly every faction. Some of the individuals he included were not considered politically influential at the time, but he recognised that they still retained trust, influence, and competence. They were invited to participate, not as a crowd, but as carefully chosen delegates.”
“This is what leadership must look like — the ability to search within the ‘mud’ for anything precious that can help advance the cause. I have never shied away from stepping into difficult or uncomfortable spaces if it meant strengthening our collective effort.”
“Even during the Swiss process, I extended a hand to individuals some considered irrelevant or controversial. Some of them eventually disqualified themselves by their actions, even attempting to expel me. But my intention was never malicious. I remain focused on solutions that advance Ambazonia’s freedom.”
These statements are more than historical reflections — they offer a leadership doctrine grounded in strategic inclusion, political maturity, and moral restraint. They affirm that the true test of leadership in times of crisis is not how many allies one has, but how willing one is to rise above ego and bitterness to rescue what remains valuable in the struggle.
From Fragments to Forge
Hon. Tibor Nagy’s comment served as a mirror — an honest appraisal of Ambazonia’s leadership landscape. President Sako’s response, in turn, provides a clear roadmap: not merely to reunify fragments for the sake of unity, but to forge something more formidable through strategic discernment.
To be clear, inclusion does not imply indiscriminate forgiveness, nor does it demand the abandonment of standards. Rather, it insists that leaders must possess the emotional intelligence and foresight to recognise dormant value in fallen actors — value that can be reignited when channeled into service of the national cause.
“I am not driven by malice,” President Sako concluded. “When it comes to solving the issues of Ambazonia, I remain committed to doing whatever is necessary to move us forward. Even if what is needed lies buried in mud, I will search for it.”
This example of magnanimous leadership — combining realism with moral clarity — deserves to be documented and remembered. It may well form part of the foundational literature on Ambazonian statecraft and diplomacy in years to come.
For history will not only remember what we fought for — but how we fought for it.
