Of Brutus and Biya: Betrayal as Africa’s political tradition

Because this evening, as I write this column, I will be speaking at a pop-up event in Bergen, Norway, on the subject of ‘Betrayal’ in Literature, which will be the theme of Litfest Bergen in February 2026, I find my mind wandering to the concept of betrayal in African politics. These wanderings I am sure […]

Because this evening, as I write this column, I will be speaking at a pop-up event in Bergen, Norway, on the subject of ‘Betrayal’ in Literature, which will be the theme of Litfest Bergen in February 2026, I find my mind wandering to the concept of betrayal in African politics.

These wanderings I am sure are influenced by recent events across the continent which have made this theme even more resonant, from Nigeria to Cameroon to Tanzania.

Betrayal in politics is an age-old tradition. From the days of the pharaohs to Brutus’ vicious selling out of Roman Emperor Julius Caesar, history is replete with examples. Even recently, one could count Libya’s Muammar Gaddafi’s ouster and murder as a clear example of betrayal by his allies. In all these cases, it is evident that the betrayed parties have assumed the loyalties of the betrayer are secured, forgetting that loyalty is not permanent but often conditional, especially in politics.

In the field of politics, betrayals often work two ways. There are instances where the sovereign is betrayed by his trusted circle, often by those who are sworn to protect them. In this instance, Burkina Faso’s Blaise Compaoré sticking a knife in the back of Thomas Sankara comes to mind. So does Roman Emperor Caligula’s murder by his own Praetorian Guards. This one strikingly resembles what has been happening in Nigeria since 1966 and what almost happened yet again this October.

The reported plots to overthrow President Tinubu fit this mould perfectly. Soldiers sworn to protect the president and defend the constitution were caught allegedly scheming to betray that oath, plotting to subvert the constitution and the mandate of the people. That is the ingredient from which a flavourful betrayal soup is cooked. This sort of betrayal is considered the norm to the extent that the other type, where the sovereign betrays the people, is hardly ever registered. In literature, the comparative equivalent would be the pigs’ betrayal of the other animals at the end of George Orwell’s Animal Farm.

Happenings in Cameroon and Tanzania brought this sort of betrayal into focus. For example, at 92, Paul Biya has no business being president of Cameroon, a position he has occupied for the last 43 years. He should have retired years ago and allowed other able-bodied and able-minded persons to oversee the development of the country he has governed mostly from a hotel room in Geneva. He certainly had no business running for president again, which, following the announcement of disputed election results, guarantees that in all likelihood, he will die in power or see out the seven-year term when he is clocking a hundred.

This decision is a betrayal of the people of Cameroon, who certainly deserve a new start. Let’s not be mistaken; Biya is not Lee Kuan Yew, and Cameroon is nowhere on the path to becoming the Singapore of Africa. Biya has been an absent president for decades and has not done anything meaningful to set his country on the path of development.

This decision also confirms Cameroon as a bona fide gerontocracy, with a 92-year-old president and a chief of the military, Claude Maka, who is 86 years old and has been holding on to that office for 24 years. Why is an 86-year-old man still in the army when he should be retired, playing golf somewhere and being content with the service he has rendered to his country? For context, this head of the Cameroonian military, who backed Biya in the electoral dispute, was born in 1939 when Hitler started World War II.

The desperation to cling to power serves only to promote their personal interests, not the lot of the people or their country. And we are witnessing it as well in Tanzania, where, as I write, the Tanzanians are going to the polls to effectively coronate President Samia Suluhu Hassan.

This was a woman who, as Vice President, came to power in 2021 following the death of President John Magufuli. She was lauded as East Africa’s first female president, one who came in with a conciliatory tone, a more friendly disposition compared to her predecessor, and initial radical reforms that earned the cheers of her compatriots.

However, as she faces her first elections, Samia has transformed from the nice woman to a brutal and ruthless politician. Even though her CCM party has won every election in the country since multi-party democracy was reinstated in 1992, the politicking and campaigns have always had the semblance of democratic participation, with vibrant debates between the rival parties.

This will not be the case since this time, President Samia has decided to clear her path to power, not with ballots, but with the dictatorial machinations of arresting opposition rivals, detaining them, and arraigning some of them for treason.

What she is doing is not only a betrayal of the men and mostly women who celebrated her ascension to the presidency, and the Tanzanians who hoped she would be a burst of fresh air, a midwife of many dreams, but it might also be a betrayal of the person she was, or presented as.

Africa’s landscape is dotted with such betrayals, where leaders abuse the oaths they swore to their people, change constitutions to advance their personal interests and perpetuate themselves in power, loot their country dry, and crack down on the dissenting voices that helped them to power.

We have often seen how leaders and politicians respond to betrayal or hints of it—President Tinubu, for instance, responded with a sack of his military chiefs and is poised for a purge of the military, as most leaders in his position would do. But when leaders betray the people, the result is often a haunting hopelessness. This is mostly because the hope of the people is often vested in the leaders who sell them out to advance their personal interests and leave them with nothing. All sorts of betrayals hurt, but the one Africans are often subjected to by their leaders cuts differently. It cuts deeper.