The struggle for African independence was waged under the banner of the right of self-determination, and today African states and the Organisation of African Unity give financial and diplomatic support to the liberation movements of Guinea-Bissau, Angola, and Mozambique. Yet the same African states and the O.A.U. denounced Biafra's attempted withdrawal from Nigeria and similar struggles in Southern Sudan, Chad, and Eritrea, without reference to the possible merits of their peoples' claims to the right of self-determination. Biafran secession, in particular, was condemned as a priori detrimental to African interests: it was incompatible with the goal of African unity and would set a precedent that could lead to the further balkanisation of the continent.

The activities of multi-national companies provide primary sources of economic contact between African countries and the industrialised world. The companies' operations in both resource and product markets are often influenced by impositions made, or not made, by host governments in Africa. Such impositions result from bargaining between governments and companies in which each negotiating agent is intent upon obtaining the most preferred conditions—and these are affected by variables that occupy the central focus of our analysis. First, we outline what we believe are crucial variables that affect bargaining outcomes: i.e. particular patterns of benefits and costs arising from the ways that companies manage their businesses in developing lands. Second, we note particular instances where the critical variables appear to be influential, and explore how closer concentration on these might lead to more preferential outcomes from the viewpoint of African governments.

A unified élite means the end of freedom. But when the groups of the élite… become a disunity, it means the end of the state. Freedom survives in [the] intermediate free zones.1 Any system that restrains [solidification of the élite] however slightly can only excite awe.2

In less than two centuries the process of industrialisation has spread from a tiny triangle in Britain to nearly 25 per cent of the world population. But it has so far largely by-passed the Third World, including China and socialist East Asia, and the southern periphery of Europe from Portugal to Bulgaria. These developing countries account for almost 75 per cent of the world population, but for only 20 per cent of the world income. On the other hand, the developed countries, with only 25 per cent of the population, have an average income per capita about ten times as high, and account for as much as 80 per cent of the real world output.

Lenin set the tone for most successful revolutions in the twentieth century when he altered traditional Marxism to suit the conditions of Russia. Mao Tse-tung followed Lenin's example when he too adjusted Marxism (and Leninism) to a Chinese environment. It seems to follow, therefore, that attempts at revolution everywhere should not be mere imitations of previously successful upheavals but should, instead, be tailored to fit specific circumstances. Thus, African revolutions should be made on the basis of African conditions. But such conditions are not, in general, always easy to discern, nor are separate analyses of those conditions certain to be similar. This is especially true of the theories of revolution of two of the most important and influential figures in recent African history: Frantz Fanon (1925–61) and Amilcar Cabral (1925–73).

The idea that Russia was the first underdeveloped country has begun to gain currency among political scientists. It implies that social processes in Russia may be profitably compared with more recent developments in the Third World. In this article I would like to test this hypothesis with respect to an important ideological controversy which took place in Russia during the nineteenth century by examining it alongside discussions among French-speaking West Africans in the period after World War II. More particularly, I would like to compare what might be called the neo-traditional themes and anti-western patriotism of the Slavophiles with the intellectual position taken by the early spokesmen of négritude.

The introduction of the one-party system in Tanzania in 1965 was in part explained as a means of rescuing the National Assembly or Bunge from decline and decay. This institution had become a rubber stamp, according to the Presidential Commission, making few meaningful contributions to the system of government: debates had become ‘lifeless and superficial’, and legislation was passed rapidly and uncritically, ‘without challenge to basic principles or careful examination of detailed provisions’. The President had appropriately raised the question of whether the National Assembly should be formally removed from the structure of the state, or amalgamated with that of the ruling party.

Tunisia A has long been regarded as a model of political development and stability in the Third World. There is no doubt that the charismatic Habib Bourguiba, the aging (71) yet indefatigable leader of an effective nation-wide party apparatus, has helped ensure Tunisia's development from the period of the pre-independence struggle until today. It is not unnatural, therefore, given the critical role of Bourguiba in the operation of the political system, to question the degree of institutionalisation, stability, modernity, and democracy that Tunisia could retain after the passing of its dynamic leader.

Integragation has been a topical issue in inter-state relations in post-independence Africa.1 The most radical of the three suggested strategies is to bid for immediate continental economic and political integration.2 A more popular view is to seek a gradualist approach to pan-African unity via regional economic co-operation;3 this could range from a free trade area, customs union, common market, and economic community, to ultimate political fusion.4 The third, less-studied strategy is for African states to lay the basis for regional economic integration, and even ultimate continental unity, through functional co-operation, for example, in transport, industrial development, trade, and monetary policy.5 This article examines the prospects and problems of co-operation on a regional basis, with particular reference to West Africa, in a specific economic field – namely, seaport development. See Map I, page 399, below.

Nation-Building implies integration on a variety of levels, but the converse is not true. Integration may result in a dependency, but does not imply the mental awareness of unity. Because of the ethnic interaction that has taken place over the centuries before and during the era of colonialism, there exist greater and lesser degrees of functional integration in Africa. Because of this interaction, Ronald Cohen and John Middleton have stated that ‘ethnic units as clear-cut entities are sociological abstractions ’1 However, one would be hard pressed to find anything approaching the breadth and depth of integration so necessary for us to ignore ethnic identity and diversity within any modern African state. Nation-building indicates a movement from simple interaction, through varying degrees of systems integration, to an ultimate awareness of membership in a common polity.

The domestic economies of most nations in Africa are based upon small-holder agriculture, which has demonstrated in the past that it can be a dynamic source of growth1. However, many governments have tried to constrain this sector and, except for a few export crops during a particular period of time, to replace it with larger farming units wherever possible.2 Part of the reason for such policies is a lack of understanding of the nature of small holdings – surprisingly little is known about what they actually are and do.3 It is frequently assumed that African farmers live in a state of blind ignorance, using inappropriate methods, and only waiting to be taught the excellent technology which stands ready to be used.4 The available evidence indicates that this is grossly wrong.5

The rôle of agriculture in the theory of economic development is equivocal. Not that anyone would dispute the need for expanding the supply of food in the course of economic development, especially during the early stages characterised by high income elasticities of demand. Quite the contrary, existing theories fully recognise this need, while noting, however, its frequent conflict with any programme of rapid capital accumulation in a situation of low savings rates.1 It therefore follows, so the argument runs, that the demand for food should be met as much as possible from domestic sources, while confining the export of scarce savings to the needs of industry: i.e. for importing manufacturing skills and techniques, with their higher productivities, linkages, and externalities.

The term ‘labour aristocracy’ first appeared in the literature on African economic development in 1968,1 although African wage labour had previously been described as a privileged elite on many occasions. I wish to question the accuracy and relevance of the type of calculation upon which these descriptions are based, and to present the situation which prevails today in Northern Nigeria, using detailed survey data on the earnings of rural farmers, urban workers, and those employed in small-scale enterprises.

Zambia inherited a system of government and administration in 1964 which was ill-suited to the tasks of political development to which her new leaders were dedicated. What little national unity and mobilisation had been achieved in the independence struggle declined with the removal of the common enemy. The Government rested on a fragile base, without the support of agreed rules and practices to limit and contain conflict, and without adequate instruments available for the implementation of its policies. So the search began for a more suitable political system, which could cope with the new needs of independence, and provide for the stability of the state and the survival of the Government.

It is known that the forms of physical education practised among ancient Greek communities reflected the differential importance attached to military and artistic activities.1 Similarly, today, variations in the relative pre-eminence of collective over individual sports are likely to reflect contrasts in the socio-economic and cultural profiles of contemporary societies.2 Moreover, modes of social participation in a particular game should be affected by the patterns of interaction prevailing in the society at large.

Many less-developed countries are richly endowed with natural resources but, due to their lack of domestic savings, must depend on foreign capital for the exploitation of these resources. The industries which are established usually produce primary products and are geared to export markets, since the host countries, particularly the ‘small’ ones, lack a broad domestic market. Thus for many L.D.C.s the relevant question is how the export-oriented primary products can make the maximum contribution to broadly-based economic development.1 Countries which fail to produce domestic capital goods are said to have incomplete economic systems, but the export industry, by making available foreign exchange for capital goods imports, can be regarded as a quasi-capital goods sector. The same argument holds more generally for manufactures or, indeed, for goods in which a country has a comparative disadvantage. As Henry Wallich puts it in his study of sugar in the Cuban economy, exports and imports may assume the roles played by investment and saving in developed countries, with exports being the main generating force in national income.2

Much recent analysis of South Africa's outward-looking policy towards independent Africa has asserted that the implications of this are primarily economic in character: ‘South Africa is thrusting out into Africa for a number of reasons. She needs markets for her manufactured goods. She wants to export capital.’1 Indeed, many observers carry the argument further, and suggest that she is seeking an economic and political role in Africa analogous to that of the United States in Latin America. In the words of Sean Gervasi:

This article was written before information on the great Ethiopian famine of 1973 had reached the outside world. Since I was not then aware of the catastrophe, the facts given here should not be regarded as a reconstruction of the causes of the famine. On the contrary, the deterioration in the conditions of the indigenous inhabitants had been known for some years – in fact, since the beginning of the capitalist offensive in the north-eastern lowlands of Ethiopia, namely the Awash Valley. I had already predicted the famine in late 1971 in two reports,1 and in discussions with officials of the Ethiopian Government.

This article is concerned chiefly with the connection between Dr Nnamdi Azikiwe's thought and that part of Nigeria's intellectual history which was the product of its nineteenth-century heritage. This relationship is important because, until comparatively recently, the intellectual life of what is now Nigeria was really an extension of that of the Negro. What we generally speak of as the beginnings of modern Nigerian social and political thought are really parochial manifestations of the more general history of the black man.

THE importance of industrial growth is widely agreed in Zambia, as elsewhere.1 In the post-independence era, Zambia's manufacturing sector actually did grow at a rate exceeding that suggested by the U.N. experts as critical for attainment of the goals of the ‘Development Decade’ of the 1960s.2 But the rapid expansion of manufacturing industry did not contribute significantly to the spread of increased productivity in all sectors of the Zambian economy.