While the colonial state had sought to borrow legitimacy from traditional chiefs, the post-colonial state through statutory provisions eventually reversed this order and Decree no. 77/245 of 15 July 1977, Article 20 stipulated that recognized chiefs were to act as auxiliaries of the administration. In this role they had to serve as intermediaries between the administration and the people, help the administrative authorities in the execution of government directives and recover state taxes within their domains. Interestingly, the chiefs that were so recognized were not assigned a role in the feed-back loop of this decision-making process. Their decision-making powers and their status were reduced without even accompanying cosmetic measures such as the creation of the House of Chiefs, as had been the case in the colonial state. Indeed, this institution was abolished. This may have been a conscious decision to prevent the system from being overloaded with demands from local leaders and to prevent them from playing the advisory role that had been conferred them in the early years of independence.

Evidence that the state has consistently sought not only to capture but also to undermine the institution of Chief can be seen in the way in which it has been manipulated. Article 2 of the decree sets out a threefold classification of chiefs. First Degree Chiefs were to be those with two Second Degree Chiefs under their jurisdiction and within the territorial limits of a divisional unit. Second Degree Chiefs had to have the allegiance of two Third Degree Chiefs and their jurisdiction could be no larger than a sub-division. The jurisdiction of Third Degree Chiefs was limited to a village or a 'quarter' in a rural or urban area. However, intent on manipulating these chiefs, Article 4 gave discretionary powers to the administrative authority in the post-colonial state to classify a chiefdom as first, second or third degree on the basis of the nebulous concepts of demographic or economic importance.

The threat of sanctions contained in Article 29 was a guarantee that the chiefs would comply with the directives of the Administration. Even a bluff to suspend the payments provided for in Article 22 was enough to bring the chiefs into line. Already, their grandeur had been considerably diminished by the fact that they were not being paid on a regular basis. In exchange for anticipated cooperation, sinecures or appointments to prebends were sometimes given. Cases in point include the appointments of the Fons of Bafut and Bali as members of the Management Board of the North-West Development Authority (MIDENO).

The state has manipulated traditional authority by seeking to convert chiefs into clients. Relations between the two have taken on the semblance of parasitism, rather than symbiosis as was the case in the colonial state. The ability of the state to manipulate and control the chiefs is increased by the fact that the chiefs, as do others, have financial needs. But the post-colonial state's contempt for chiefs is glaringly obvious from the shabby treatment given them by administrative officers. In Bui, for example, a Prefectorial order was signed forbidding the Fon of Nso' from leaving his palace following his support for his subjects in their refusal to pay water bills to a parastatal that had taken over their supply system. Thus, Fons who play their 'divine' role by serving as guardians of their subjects can be sanctioned, especially in instances where this protection conflicts with the interests of the post-colonial state.

Further proof that state-chief relations have hinged on expediency can be inferred from President Biya's 'projet de societé.' He argues that for the purpose of promoting participatory democracy, the post of chief should be elective rather than hereditary (1987: 51). This practice common to the acephalous societies in southern Cameroon has enabled the state to successfully capture them. Accordingly, an overriding concern with the construction of a strong post-colonial state may be the reason for this ostensibly altruistic position. The argument that chiefs be elective rather than hereditary for the purposes of promoting participatory democracy has been highly nuanced. It is acceptable in some parts of Cameroon, where this practice obtains already, but its implementation in the North-West would be problematic where people look on it not only with scepticism but also with much suspicion.

In the days of the single party state Biya had passed a law that prohibited chiefs from participating in national politics. However, pluralism prompted by the demand for 'Jacobin democracy', led Biya to backtrack from this position; for example, the Fon of Mankon was co-opted as the first Vice President of Biya's party, the Cameroon People's Democratic Movement (CPDM). At the the same time the Fons of Bali and Bafut became alternate members of the Central Committee. Fon Tatang Robert of Batcham, a member of the opposition party, the National Union for Democracy and Progress (NUDP), was permitted to become a Member of Parliament in March 1991. This Fon gained notoriety shortly thereafter by crossing over to the CPDM ranks. All this may signal a realignment in Cameroonian politics. In the struggle that pitches the state against civil society, some chiefs have now switched sides in favour of the former.

Underlying Biya's actions is a belief that successfully wooing of the chiefs would produce a coat-tails effect. In other words, the subjects would readily vote for his CPDM, if so instructed by the chief. Unfortunately for the powers that be, circumstances have changed and people now display quite different attitudes toward the chiefs. 'Moral pluralism', a defining trait of this Janus society renders it difficult to predict a priori what the social consensus would be on any given issue. The plurality of norms has given rise to a situational perspective where competition, individualism and solidarity can be both 'good' and 'bad.' If this has allowed for 'beat the system' strategies at the systemic level, it has also had a debilitating impact at the sub-systemic level where that condensed symbol - the institution of chiefdom - had always evoked respect and obedience.

The March 1992 legislative elections provided evidence of this situation. Some chiefs, who now see politics in instrumental terms, tried to impose their preferences on their subjects. In Bali-Kumbat, for example, the Fon is alleged to have attempted to rig the elections in favour of the ruling CPDM by stuffing the ballot boxes in his area. Some 'recalcitrant' subjects insisted on inspecting these boxes before the voting started; this led to a stand-off. Fon Galabe 'resolved' this summarily by shooting at his protesting subjects. Incensed by the action of the chief, his subjects stormed the palace, burning everything in their path. Seeing this reaction, which was tantamount to divesting him of power, the chief begged for a machete with which to kill himself. He was prevented from doing so only because of the timely intervention of the forces of law and order. Despite this, the state remained wedded to atavistic notions. Consequently, in the October 1992 Presidential elections, Biya still believed that a pledge from the chiefs of the Western Province that the people would vote massively for him had the binding force of a contract. When the people voted overwhelmingly for Ni John Fru Ndi of the Social Democratic Front (SDF), the consensus within official circles, as mirrored by several broadcasts of Cameroon Radio and Television, was that Biya had been 'betrayed' by the people of the Western Province.

The two foregoing cases serve as evidence that the ultimate act of desacralization has been carried out by the people. In the Bali-Kumbat case, the chief literally abdicated by escaping to Bamenda. This consummated the divorce or the temporary separation of the people and their Fon. In a bid to reconcile the two parties the Senior Divisional Officer for Mezam launched an appeal to the natives to come and take back their Fon to the village. This case reveals that the people could reject the authority of a chief who still commands the government's stamp of legitimacy.

Such rejection of traditional authority in this case is evidence that the state's endeavour to use the chieftaincy to capture society has failed. Most people now look on traditional authority in the North-West Province with suspicion. As for the government, some of its members harbour an undisguised contempt for the chiefs. They are thought to have entered into an unholy alliance with the state and the ramifications of this (budding) alliance on the institution of the chiefdom threatens to be far-reaching. Further evidence in support of this thesis emerged during the October 1992 Presidential elections. The Fon of Mankon, who is believed to have engaged in a similar exercise as his colleague of Bali-Kumbat did in the Legislative election, had his official rest house burnt by an unidentified group of furious subjects. Disidentification (MacDonell 1986: 40), an effect of working against prevailing practices of ideological subjection (in this case to traditional chiefs), is now commonplace. Countervailing forces, such as the concept of empowerment of the people, that have thrived because of the emergence of 'moral pluralism' account for the failure of the state's attempt to use the chiefs to capture civil society in the North-West Province. Equally important, there is now a new generation of subjects who do not profess a blind allegiance to traditional authority.

The theme of empowerment is an integral part of Jacobin democracy, especially as viewed by the SDF, the main 'Opposition' party in Cameroon. Whereas the emphasis on 'power to the people' as construed by the party hierarchy applies only to instruments of the post-colonial state, this discourse has been given various meanings by the militants of the party. Local viewpoints and a reappraisal of the prevalent opinions concerning parochial institutions have impacted heavily on the construction of the meaning of 'power'. As indicated earlier, this has had tremendous repercussions on the powers of traditional authority, especially in the realm of regulation. A case in point is the role that the Fon plays in the decision to expel accused witches from Kom. Contrary to established practice which requires that the Fon be involved in the process, people in the name of 'power' have arrogated to themselves the power to sanction suspected witches.

The marginalization, or rejection, of the Fon in the governing of traditional society does not augur well for the construction of a strong post-colonial state. Article 21 of the 1977 Law provided that, failing statutory provisions, chiefs could settle disputes between their subjects in conformity with customary law. Divestment of their powers no longer permits them to fulfil this obligation readily. In some enclaved areas, this could easily lead to the deterioration of social peace as it leaves a void that the state cannot readily fill either. This prompts one to look askance at the validity of the design to find 'some means of harnessing an old legitimacy to a new state' (Chilver 1963: 139), especially in circumstances where this 'old legitimacy' is being questioned.