“Dependence” has become the latest euphemism in a long list of such terms. No doubt its original intent was critical. The term itself emerged out of the “structuralist” theories of Latin American scholars and was meant as a rebuttal to “developmentalist” or “modernization“ theories and “monetarist” policy views. André Gunder Frank has traced its intellectual origins and its limitations in a recent combative paper entitled “Dependence is dead; long live dependence and the class struggle.”

We live in a capitalist world economy, one that took definitive shape as a European world economy in the sixteenth century (see Wallerstein 1974) and came to include the whole world geographically in the ninteenth century. Capitalism as a system of production for sale in a market for profit and appropriation of this profit on the basis of individual or collective ownership has only existed in, and can be said to require, a world system in which the political units are not co-extensive with the boundaries of the market economy. This has permitted sellers to profit from strengths in the market whenever they exist but enabled them simultaneously to seek, whenever needed, the intrusion of political entities to distort the market in their favor. Far from being a system of free competition of all sellers, it is a system in which competition becomes relatively free only when the economic advantage of upper strata is so clear-cut that the unconstrained operation of the market serves effectively to reinforce the existing system of stratification.

Few incidents in African colonial history give such an insight into the mentality and the methods of imperialism as the contraband arms trade in Africa. France and England, two of the major powers in Africa, tried to limit the quantity and type of firearms sold in their respective colonies. Fearing African resistance to colonialist control, both nations wanted a definite restriction of weapons and alcoholic beverages, but modern firearms continued to be smuggled and sold in vast numbers. French business representatives sold rifles to the native tribes in English regions, and the British did the same in the French areas. Continually trying to find ways to lessen the chances of African resistance, both states could not halt effectively the lucrative and dangerous business. Because of the old nationalist hatreds and the contemporary desire for new colonial areas, England and France hesitated in halting the arms trade. Additionally, the irrational hatreds and mutual distrusts kept the two powers from reaching any diplomatic agreement, and this in turn threatened the European presence in colonial Africa.

There was constant turmoil over the flow of weapons in all of colonial Africa, especially in two areas: Northwest Africa, or Morocco, and West Africa from Senegal to the southern border of Nigeria. While basically very different in their colonial experiences, these two locations were vital to both English and French colonial expansion. Morocco was close to French-held Algeria and was considered a natural area for France's North African expansion.

The African writer has been very much influenced by politics, probably because the African intellectual is a part of the political elite. The writer is a sensitive point within his society. Thus, African literature has tended to reflect the political phases on the continent. Chinua Achebe is a very suitable example. Beginning during the colonial days his writing spans the succession of political crises which has beset Nigeria. Also, more than any other Nigerian writer, he has made statements on the role of the writer in his society. His conception of the writer's duty has also tended to change with the political situation in his country. By examining both his creative writing and his pronouncements, we can obtain an interesting picture of how the quality of a literature can be directly influenced by the degree of the writer's political commitment.

Achebe's first statement on the social responsibility of the African writer was made in a lecture entitled “The Role of the Writer in a New Nation,” delivered to the Nigerian Library Association in 1964. Although he had cast the title of his lecture in rather general terms, Achebe talked specifically about the role of the writer in what he called the new Nigeria. The major problem all over the world, he said, was the debate between white and black over black humanity, a subject which presented the African writer with a great challenge:

The number, behavior, and attitudes of the Dahamean modern elite, of the 1930's have been outstanding among the French-speaking African elites and have earned for Dahomey fame as the Latin Quarter of West Africa. What does this complimentary title suggest? It suggests that Dahomey has a concentration of educated people as does the quarter in the environs of the Sorbonne and also, perhaps, that Dahomeans are generally intelligent and educated. It also seems to imply that Dahomeans are more intensely motivated to secure an education and acquire knowledge than other Africans. Some of these qualifications are beyond our capabilities to evaluate; others, such as the intellectual activities of this sizeable group are an historical fact. During the colonial period more than forty newspapers appeared in Dahomey written and published by Dahomeans, who were also active in the organization of schools and constantly attempted to influence the content of education. After the Second World War, when new political institutions were introduced into Dahomey, the writers and editors of the 1930's, practically without exception, either associated with them, participated in them, or founded them. From being the cultural elite of the 1930's they became a decade later the political elite in their country. It is interesting, then, to inquire into the composition of this elite and into their attitudes as they are expressed on the pages of their newspapers.

Eskor Toyo's suggestion during his review of the 1966 crisis in Nigeria that the working class should not limit its politics to supporting others but should wage a struggle for power in its own right and on its own plank (1966, p. 34) raised anew the issue of the role of the working class in Nigeria's politics. The suggestion, as it stands, implies a criticism of the role the workers had played in politics and recommends a new line of action. The timing was perfect, for it would seem that, to adopt the new line, all that the working class needed to do was to step into the vacuum created by the decree which banned the existing political parties after the military coup of January 1966. The problem, however, was that, to grab political power for the working class, the workers would have needed to organise and emerge as a demonstrable political force and would thereby automatically have come under the ban and have faced confrontation with the army; hence perhaps Toyo chose the words to “wage a struggle for power.” After all, the army was then getting used to the power it had seized a few months before and would not have given it up without a fight. But the problem for the working class was even more complicated than the impediment represented by the army. This had not to do with the workers being inexperienced in the art of governing, for, as Toyo pointed out, the army had never ruled in Nigeria before 1966 and, as far as anyone could see, the situation was still far from anarchy. Governing, it seems, is one of those arts one acquires on the job.

Since attaining independence nearly every African government has initiated a national planning exercise founded on the recognition that the technological imperatives of specialization and exchange essential for modern development require large markets, large capital investments, a broad range of natural resources, and the training of skilled manpower—all of which require mobilization of resources at least on a national level. Plans limited to allocating resources merely on a village or even on a regional level would be incapable of contributing to significant increases of productivity because such small units lack these essential prerequisites. However, the record of national planning in Africa has not been very successful in contributing to significant development (Waterston 1965). This is particularly true if development is defined—as it will be throughout this article—as increasing productivity in all sectors of the economy accompanied by raising the levels of living of the broadest masses of the population.

The somewhat dismal record of national plans underscores the realization voiced by more and more development theorists: development cannot be attained merely by transplanting to Africa the refined planning techniques devised to allocate resources in developed countries such as input-output tables, linear programming, or macro-economic models based on assumed capital-output ratios. This is true in part because the lack of adequate data requires that many of the essential coefficients must simply be “invented,” which, over time is likely to lead to results seriously deviating from planned goals (Lewis 1966, especially pp. 15, 20-21).

The nations of Africa are today experiencing the cross-pressures characteristic of modern economic development. The choices of development strategies to focus these pressures constructively are critical, and no choices are more important than those which will determine the interactions between agricultural and manufacturing sectors.

Relationships between agriculture and industry have received wide attention in the literature of development economics. Generally the two sectors have been depicted as competitive for the scarce developmental resources available, with opinion then splitting over the relative emphasis to be placed on each at various stages of the development process. It will be argued here that three fundamental assumptions must be challenged if development strategies are to promote optimal economic growth. (1) The assumption that the fundamental nature of the agricultural-industrial relationship is competitive must be drastically modified. (2) Growth rates of aggregate output and output per capita can no longer be accepted as “the” indicators of developmental economic health. (3) Gross national (or domestic) product measurements must be rejected as providing the most relevant index of aggregate output. Only within a framework of reconstructed assumptions can the optimal relationship between agriculture and manufacturing be defined and achieved.

Structural transformation—“the process by which a predominantly agrarian economy evolves into a diversified industrial economy”—is generally recognized as an essential characteristic of economic development. Structural transformation encompasses many things. Agriculture's relative share in both output and employment declines, and increased specialization of economic functions within and between sectors greatly increases the interdependence of economic units.

In the nineteenth century one can distinguish between three different stages in the development of British military policy in West Africa. Up to 1840 British military policy relied heavily on eighteenth-century precedent and revolved round the triple pillars of the West Africa Squadron, the forts, and the military personnel, made up mainly of Europeans who were brought from Great Britain or raised among European volunteers at the coast in times of emergency. Between 1840 and 1870 the British relied rather heavily on the West Indian troops, whom they used in a strategic role to deal with military problems in her West African possessions. During this period attempts were made to raise small but local paramilitary units to supplement the efforts of the West India Regiments. From the 1870's onwards the limitations in the use of the West Indian troops and the need to cut down military expenditure led to the emphasis placed on the raising of comparatively large African and local forces which later took over the duties previously undertaken by the West India Regiments. Towards the end of the nineteenth century, when the need arose, these local forces were amalgamated into what came to be known as the “West African Frontier Force,” which eventually became the instrument used by the British government not only to ward off European trespassers in those areas which it claimed but also to consolidate its authority in West Africa in subsequent years.

The literature on job satisfaction and work attitudes clearly shows that salary or money is one undisputed source of people's motivation to work. They work in anticipation for money which they get to exchange for most of their needs. Salary as a source of workers' dissatisfaction has teen revealed in several studies. Studies conducted in British factories (Marriott and Denerley 1955) and those carried out in the United States—one based on a national sample (Center and Cantril 1946) and another, a follow-up study of gifted children by Terman and Oden (1959)—all show that the income level and job satisfaction of workers are positively related. Reiner (1957) found that inadequate salary was one of the factors which made the teachers he studied leave the teaching profession. Research by Rudd and Wiseman (1962) on some 432 teachers from the University of Manchester School of Education revealed similar findings. Phipp's study (1968) of Ugandan teachers and Nelson's (1970) of Congolese teachers also revealed that salary was one of the dissatisfying factors indicated by the teachers.

Another facet of the role of money in the motivation of workers has been explored by Herzberg and his colleagues (1959). From the findings of their study, they have formulated their motivation-hygiene theory in which, using an analogy from medical field, they call those factors which they claim cause the dissatisfaction of workers—dissatisfiers—the hygiene factors.

Jungle imagery and prejudiced stereotypes still abound in American knowledge of Africa. In a 1967 survey of American schoolchildren, E. Perry Hicks and Barry K. Beyer found that the majority still saw Africa through a web of myth and unfavorable stereotypes which appeared to increase as students progressed from grade seven through grade twelve (1970, pp. 158-166). In closing remarks as President of the African Studies Association, Philip D. Curtin noted this dilemma and posed a compelling challenge to the Africanist community. “The 1970's,” Professor Curtin stated,

This essay is written in response to Professor Curtin's challenge and as an attempt to begin a dialogue on how to teach African history effectively. It is our contention that African studies is a recent enough arrival on the academic scene that teachers have not yet developed, or have not yet shared, techniques of instruction to cope with the special problems inherent in the subject matter.

Before analysing the success or failure of the single-party state in Africa, it is necessary to define the terms of success and failure of a political system. First, it must be emphasized that the prolonged existence of a regime does not prove its success nor that its overthrow is necessarily a result of its failure. Sometimes cruel, corrupt, and inefficient governments survive for decades while reform-minded, popular governments are overthrown within months. Franco's Spain, for example, has achieved little success in the realm of social and economic progress, although it has succeeded in surviving for more than thirty years. Dubcek's Czechoslovakia, although of short duration, is not necessarily a failure when viewed in historical perspective. If, then, the longevity of a regime has no bearing on its success or failure, what criteria can be employed in making an evaluation of one-party states in Africa? The three criteria which seem relevant for such an evaluation are those of stability, economic development, and nation-building. This paper, therefore, will be devoted to a comparison of the single-party state with Western-style multiparty systems and with military dictatorships , focusing on the three criteria mentioned above. At the same time, the paper will attempt to answer the question: does a single-party state succeed or fail in its performance because of its single-party structure?

An examination of politics and political thought in Tanzania since independence reveals three recurring themes. These are egalitarianism, mass participation in politics at all levels, and anti-elitism. A brief examination of these ideas will serve to point out some possible sources of political conflict if this ideology does become a guide for decision-making in Tanzania.

Equality implies the adoption of a universalistic legal order, the application of achievement criteria in recruitment in all sectors of society, and fair treatment for all citizens. However, like many other new states, Tanzania is culturally plural, is unevenly developed, and has skilled manpower shortages. In the drive to fill positions with nationals, it is doubtful that equality of opportunity can be achieved with any consistency in the immediate post-independence period.

The Arusha Declaration encourages mass participation in political life at all levels. Furthermore, compared to other African political parties, TANU has been relatively successful in involving citizens in the political process. The rationale for advocating mass involvement is to narrow the mass-elite gap and to create a sense of responsibility on the part of citizens. However, mass participation could also lead to the weakening of leadership by skilled individuals and the overloading of the political system via inflated demands.

The Arusha Declaration also deemphasizes the significance of wealth, education, skill, or other such values in the recruitment of leaders. The objective is to discourage elitism and all forms of elitist behavior on the part of the leadership.

In the fall of 1972 the International Labor Organization published Employment, Incomes and Equality: A Strategy for Increasing Productive Employment in Kenya. While this study has general implications for employment policies in underdeveloped countries, it is especially relevant for urban problems. We will here examine the extent to which the ILO's proposals for handling problems arising in the “informal sector,” within which hawkers and squatters are considered the most troublesome, are likely to be accepted by the Kenya government and the Nairobi City Council.

According to the ILO, the gap between the growth of the Kenya population (3.3 per cent annually) and wage-earning employment (less than 2 per cent) makes rising unemployment inevitable, particularly in the major towns, where the African population expanded during the 1960's at a rate of over 10 per cent per annum. To stem urban migration, or to expel nonwage earners from the towns, is impossible because of the scarcity of arable agricultural land. Likewise, the government cannot provide enough jobs for the unemployed without seriously overburdening the economy due to the country's inadequate industrial potential. Therefore, it is proposed by the ILO that the government should primarily concern itself with increasing employment opportunity by encouraging self-employment rather than wage earning.

The self-employed in Nairobi earn about $240 annually (L90) and provide real services for the low-income segment of the population—selling, exchanging, repairing, transporting, and even making or assembling much of what is needed by those unable to afford the amenities enjoyed by the elite.

Few people consider the armed forces hesitant in their actions. Speed, decisiveness, efficiency, directness—such are characteristics often attributed to the military. Especially in areas where protection of military autonomy is concerned, quick action may be taken.

Recent African history suggests that members of the armed forces exhibit willingness to leap into active political involvement when challenges arise to their corporate interest. Since June 1965 fifteen African states have experienced coups d'etat. The decisive act of intervention, however, rarely is mirrored by an equally decisive act of withdrawal. Coups are clear-cut events, transitions to civilian governments far less dramatic or marked. As the time to return to the barracks approaches, doubts and hesitations seem to grow. Officers pause, uncertain whether they have accomplished what their intervention allegedly was to correct. They are caught in a dilemma, and as S. E. Finer noted, “whether their rule be indirect of whether it be direct, they cannot withdraw from rulership nor can they fully legitimize it. They can neither stay nor go” (1962, p. 243).

Once military intervention has occurred, voluntary disengagement of the armed forces from direct political involvement comes when withdrawal seems to enhance the military's corporate interest. Splits within the military, relatively restricted objectives, and the opportunity to transfer control to civilians whose outlooks, policies, and backgrounds resemble those of the ruling military group facilitate disengagement.

A considerable amount of attention has recently been focused upon the performance of military governments. (See, for example, Bienen 1971, Feit 1973, Welch and Smith forthcoming, Decalo 1973, Pinkney 1973.) The brief period in which military regimes have been in power in Africa has precluded the accumulation of sufficient data to verify some of the hypotheses presented in this literature. This article analyses the performance of the Amin regime in Uganda in its first thirty months in power. It suggests that the failure of the regime to make progress towards the economic and political development of the country is the result of (1) the disintegration of the government into a personal dictatorship, (2) the increasing reliance by the government upon coercive and diversive policies to maintain itself in power, and (3) actions of the government, particularly within the military itself, which have exacerbated ethnic divisions within Ugandan society in general.

The Amin coup of January 1971 was achieved with surprising ease given the deep divisions existing within the military subsystem in Uganda. After only a few hours of fighting, troops announced over Radio Uganda at 3.45 p.m., 25 January 1971 that Obote's government had been overthrown and that they had invited Idi Amin to head the new government. Amin's followers had outmanoeuvred troops loyal to Obote and presented them with a fait accompli. However, this relatively smooth transfer of power was to prove deceptive—Amin's government subsequently faced greater resistance to its acceptance, both internally and internationally, than was anticipated.