Editor-in-Chief Ali Dan Ismael
In 1984, George Orwell envisioned a grim world where authoritarianism thrives on silence, propaganda, and fear. In that dystopia, the past is erased, truth is controlled, and the state demands obedience through terror. Today, in the heart of Africa, Orwell’s warning finds tragic resonance in the Republic of Cameroon—where a brutal regime wages a silent genocide against the people of Southern Cameroons, and where silence from the Catholic Church, particularly its leadership, is increasingly indistinguishable from complicity.
At the centre of this moral collapse stands Archbishop Andrew Nkea, President of Cameroon’s Episcopal Conference, whose public closeness to the Biya regime now raises serious spiritual and ethical alarm. His selective silence, his presence at regime events, and his failure to denounce the atrocities in Ambazonia have rendered him not a shepherd of the oppressed, but a chaplain to tyranny.
Orwell’s Prophecy, Cameroon’s Reality
In 1984, Big Brother watched all, controlled all, and rewrote truth at will. Citizens were not only punished for dissent, but compelled to participate in their own oppression through silence and complicity. That reality is no longer fictional—it is present-day Cameroon.
The Biya regime has burned villages, imprisoned thousands without charge, massacred civilians, and forcibly displaced over 800,000 Ambazonians. Entire communities in the Northwest and Southwest have been shattered. And still, the Archbishop remains silent.
Even more appalling is the recent wave of state-sanctioned property seizures and illegal occupation of Ambazonian homes and businesses in Bafia, Makénéné, and other parts of the Centre Region. Properties belonging to Ambazonian refugees have been confiscated or re-allocated without legal process, their rightful owners reduced to stateless beggars. These systemic attacks represent both ethnic persecution and economic apartheid—yet not a single word of condemnation from Archbishop Andrew Nkea.
Why?
The Price of Silence: Cash and a Prado
It is now widely alleged that the Archbishop received a large cash gift and a brand new Prado SUV from President Biya himself. For many in the Anglophone community, that image—a prince of the Church being rewarded by the architect of their suffering—was the final proof that his lips had been sealed not by fear, but by favour.
While villages burn and children die, the Archbishop rides in comfort, consecrated not by truth but by political expediency.
Rather than raise his voice for justice, Archbishop Nkea now travels internationally—not to bear witness to genocide, but to lobby for himself. His reported campaign to persuade President Sisiku Ayuk Tabe and Dr. Samuel Ikome Sako to step aside so that he may emerge as the “moderate spokesperson” of Ambazonia is not born of love for his people, but of ambition. It is widely believed that he seeks the position of cardinal—aspiring to rise to the College of Cardinals on the backs of Ambazonian blood.
A Cross Without Christ
The tragedy is not merely political. It is spiritual. The Church is supposed to be the voice of conscience. It is meant to stand where Christ stood—among the rejected, the crucified, and the condemned. But in Cameroon, the Church now stands beside Caesar.
As the Vatican remains silent, and as Archbishop Nkea continues to polish his image before Rome, the faithful are left wondering: does the Church still hear the cry of the oppressed?
In Rwanda, the silence of the Church during the genocide became a historical stain. Shall Cameroon follow that path?
The Time for Choosing
The Catholic Church must now choose: speak for the oppressed, or be judged alongside the oppressors. Condemn the genocide, or become a footnote in its shameful legacy. The Gospel demands no less.
As Martin Luther King Jr. warned, “In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies but the silence of our friends.” Today, the Church’s silence is a betrayal, and its complicity—embodied in luxury SUVs and calculated diplomacy—is a desecration of the Gospel.
The people of Ambazonia do not ask for pity. They ask for truth. Let the Church speak now—or stand condemned by history and heaven alike
