President Paul Biya’s prolonged stay outside Cameroon has raised many questions. But perhaps the most important one is no longer simply where is the President, or how is his health? It is whether Cameroon’s constitutional system has left the country without a clear mechanism to respond should the Head of State become permanently unable to perform his duties.
Biya left Cameroon on June 7, 2026, for what was described as a “brief private stay” in Europe. More than two months later, the brief stay has become anything but brief.
The President’s prolonged absence would ordinarily be enough to trigger serious institutional scrutiny in any democracy. But in Cameroon, the discussion has taken on an additional constitutional dimension because of changes reportedly made to the law governing the Constitutional Council in April 2026.
Under the previous legal arrangement, the Speaker of the National Assembly had the possibility of referring the matter of the Head of State’s permanent incapacity to the Constitutional Council.
That provision offered an institutional route through which Parliament could act if circumstances arose in which the President was permanently unable to exercise his functions.
But the April 14, 2026 amendment to Article 38 of the 2004 law governing Cameroon’s Constitutional Council appears to have changed that arrangement.
Under the new framework, the power to refer a case of permanent presidential incapacity to the Constitutional Council is assigned to the Vice-President.
And here lies the uncomfortable question: where is the Vice-President?
As of now, President Biya has yet to appoint one.
This creates an extraordinary situation. Cameroon has changed the mechanism for dealing with a potentially serious constitutional circumstance, but the person to whom the new law gives that responsibility has not been appointed.
It is a question that deserves more than political speculation. It deserves a national constitutional conversation.
Did the amendment create an institutional blind spot?
The intention behind the amendment may be perfectly legitimate. There may be reasons why lawmakers considered it necessary to change who can trigger the incapacity procedure.
But good constitutional design is not only about what happens under normal circumstances. It must also anticipate moments of uncertainty.
What happens if the President is alive but seriously incapacitated?
What happens if he is unable to communicate?
What happens if he remains outside the country for an extended period and questions arise about his ability to discharge his constitutional responsibilities?
And, most importantly, who has the authority to initiate the constitutional procedure if the law says only the Vice-President can do so, but no Vice-President exists?
These are not hypothetical questions that should be dismissed simply because there is no official declaration of presidential incapacity.
The President's absence does not by itself mean that he is incapacitated. Nor should his absence be presented as proof of illness or inability to govern.
But constitutional systems are designed precisely to prevent institutions from waiting for a crisis before asking who has the authority to act.
Parliament should not be a spectator
This is where Cameroon’s Parliament should come in.
A functioning Parliament should not wait until there is a constitutional emergency before examining whether the country's laws provide adequate safeguards.
The National Assembly represents the people. It has a responsibility to scrutinise laws and the functioning of institutions, particularly when questions arise concerning the exercise of the highest office in the land.
If the previous legal framework gave the Speaker of the National Assembly a role in referring a question of presidential incapacity to the Constitutional Council, while the new framework transfers that responsibility exclusively to a Vice-President who has not been appointed, Parliament should be able to explain the thinking behind that change.
Cameroonians deserve to know.
Was the possibility of a vacant Vice-Presidency considered when the amendment was adopted?
What happens during the period before a Vice-President is appointed?
Is there another constitutional provision that addresses the situation?
If there is, Parliament should explain it clearly to the public.
If there is not, lawmakers should have the courage to admit that the law needs clarification.
The President owes the country an explanation
There is also a political question that cannot be ignored.
A President is not simply a private citizen who can disappear from public view indefinitely.
The President embodies the institutions of the Republic. His whereabouts, health and capacity to perform his duties are matters of legitimate public interest.
Cameroonians were told that the President was leaving for a brief private stay. Sixty-six days later, the country is still waiting for clarity.
There is nothing wrong with a President taking leave. There is nothing wrong with travelling abroad for medical, private or official reasons. What is problematic is when citizens are left to fill an information vacuum with rumours and speculation.
In functioning democracies, presidential health is not necessarily treated as a state secret. Citizens are regularly informed when presidents are hospitalised, undergo medical procedures or temporarily transfer responsibilities.
The public does not need every detail of a President's private life. But it deserves sufficient information to know that the person entrusted with running the state is capable of doing so.
Did Biya “play a fast one”?
The question in the headline may sound provocative, but it points to something much bigger than President Biya personally.
Did the April 2026 constitutional change unintentionally create a situation in which the old parliamentary safeguard disappeared before the new safeguard — the Vice-President — was put in place?
If that was intentional, Cameroonians deserve to understand why.
If it was an oversight, Parliament should correct it.
And if the Constitution already contains another mechanism, the government and Parliament should explain it.
What Cameroon cannot afford is uncertainty.
The country has experienced enough institutional and political crises to know the danger of unclear rules. A constitutional system should be strongest precisely when the country is facing uncertainty at the top.
President Biya may return tomorrow and put an end to the speculation. He may return in a week, or another month. But his prolonged absence has already exposed a question that Cameroon cannot simply wish away:
Who acts when the President cannot?
The answer should never depend on guesswork, political loyalty or the absence of an appointed Vice-President.
That is why this is bigger than Biya’s “brief private stay.” It is a test of Cameroon’s constitutional architecture.
And perhaps the most important question for Parliament is not whether President Biya is coming back.
It is whether the Republic is constitutionally prepared if, for whatever reason, he cannot.
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