To a large extent the independence movement in Africa was a movement toward westernization. If political independence had any purpose beyond its own self, African political leaders stated that it was meant to bring the fruits of economic growth and modernization, long stinted under colonial controls. All this seemed appropriate enough. Had not the West made gigantic strides, particularly in science and technology, advances that had brought steadily rising living standards, better health, housing and schools, and greater leisure with which to enjoy the many new material advantages of life? During the colonial era and before, Europeans had unceasingly assured Africans that their own culture was barbaric and dated, that was best to emulate the European as quickly as possible, to get on with the business of joining the modern world. Africans seemed to agree. At independence governments moved forward at full pace to mechanize their agriculture, to establish modern industries, to introduce all the manifestations of high technology. Among the planners and the politicians there seemed to be little hesitation. All eyes were on the future and the model was the West.

Africa is no monolith, however. Africans may have glimpsed a new and better life in the image of a modernized, western-oriented society, but an age-old civilization still survived, still offered its people much that was satisfying and much that worked. There were Africans who recognized this fact, who were concerned that too rapid and unreflective an adoption of foreign ways might lead to complications, unforeseen and dangerous. They did not wish to turn their backs on the West but they did warn that African needs and conditions should always be given first priority.

To run through the chronological repertory of works of African philosophy for the period 1950–1980 (Mudimbe, 1982a; Smet, 1978b), one fact strikes the eye immediately: the large number of books of “philosophy” published in Central Africa, mainly in Zaire. This quantity is due to the influence of Catholic missionaries during the colonial era. In the terms of the 1906 Convention between the Holy See and the Congro Free State they had a quasi monopoly in education. And also, at a very early stage, they had developed an elaborate structure of religious education leading to “major seminaries” in which candidates to the priesthood were introduced to Thomist philosophy before they undertook studies in theology.

In this century the first Africans to publish works claiming to be philosophical have been churchmen: Kagame (1956), Makarakiza (1959), Lufuluabo (1964), and Mulago (1965). They are spiritually disciples of Placide Tempels, refer to and use his Bantu Philosophy (1945). Their status and the special order of their mission have prepared them to receive sympathetically the basic hypotheses of Tempels as well as they way he advocated them. This submission to one perspective has, however, never meant a mere repetition of Tempels' ideas, as shown by Kagame's reservation (1956) and the widening of his investigation (1976).

I wish to center my analysis less on the evolution of the so-called major paradigms dealing with change in Africa then with the evolution of the role of the specialized student of change in Africa. One cannot dissociate the two, and I do not intend to do so. But in discussions on theorizing, there occurs too often a neglect of the theorizers, which in turn may lead to misinterpretations of what is and was going on.

As we all know, before circa 1950 the study of Africa was confined very largely to the domain of anthropology. True, there were some partial exceptions. In the case of South Africa, the large white population and the relative importance of its participation in the world-economy meant that some economists studied it as well. And in the case of North Africa, what might be called “Islamics” also played a role.

Nonetheless, anthropology dominated the scene. The fact that the study of Africa was thus limited of course reflected the division of intellectual labour that had been carved out in the late nineteenth century, among whose features was the division of the world into three geographical zones: modern European and European-settler states, which were studied by economists, historians, political scientists, and sociologists; non-Western areas with a long-standing written culture and preferable a so-called “world religion,” which were studied by so-called Orientalists; and backward peoples, which were studied by anthropologists.

The study of African technological history cannot bt pursued without first considering two fundamental problems. The most fundamental of all is the relationship between technology and the broader social process. It is quite obvious that the two are linked but it is not at all clear, even in a study focused on technology, where to begin the explanation of this relationship. Second, there is the more specific question of African “backwardness”: why are certain kinds of technology which spread throughout Europe and Asia not found south of the Sahara before the colonial era? How can we relate this apparent lag to changes which did take place in African technology? What are the consequences of such a technological differential for the eventual integration of Africa into economic and political systems which include these external societies.

In dealing with the first problem, Africanists can draw upon the practice and debate within the well-established sub-discipline of European and American technological history. Within this work (as well as some of the more general writings on African technological history) three approaches to the relationship between technology and society have been developed: an internalist approach which studies technology in isolation from society; a technological determinist approach which uses certain inventions or innovations to explain major social changes; and a dialectical approach which explains technological and social changes as mutually interacting.

The African Studies Association has presented its Herskovits Award for “an outstanding study on Africa” published during the previous academic year since 1965. Although 1983 does not, therefore, mark the twenty-fifth anniversary of this award or even the twenty-fifth winner (due to several multiple awards, a total of twenty-two have been given), it seems, nevertheless, like an appropriate moment to look back over the previous awards and take stock of their character and significance.

What follows will not provide a major critical evaluation of either the individual books which have received the Herskovits Award nor of the process by which they were chosen. Such an effort would require more serious reading of these books and other works published in the same fields and years than has been undertaken here. Moreover, it would require some investigation of the scholars who served on the various Herskovits Award committees and possibly an inquiry into the substance of their proceedings. If the likely results of such a study were worth the labor demanded, it is not clear that this Review, and particularly an issue celebrating a major date in the history of its parent organization, is the appropriate forum. However, for some future editors of “African Studies Revised” or whatever reincarnation of the late 1960s may eventually strike us, this account of the Herskovits Awards should at least provide a base of useful information.