Since Waldemar Nielsen published his generous, unheeded and ultimately wrong prediction, much has happened in southern Africa and in the United States. In southern Africa, with the exception of the situation in Portuguese-speaking Africa, little has changed and American policy has remained largely as Nielsen then described it. Since the April 25, 1974 coup in Lisbon which overthrew the New State dictatorship, remarkable changes have begun to occur in Portugal and in her African territories: Portugal has granted independence to Guinea-Bissau (September 12), and has pledged independence to Angola and to Mozambique at an undetermined future date and in a manner as yet to be clearly explicated. But American policy toward Portugal and toward the territories it still controls in southern Africa maintains extreme caution. Our policy has remained rather passive, unimaginative, in want of innovation and, it seems, replete with compromises. In short, present American policy here appears to lack any clear conceptual basis or purpose.

A central element in the story of southern Africa during the early 1970s is the quietly persistent penetration in to neighboring countries of dominant interests—whether economic, political or even military—of the Republic of South Africa. As the motives for this expansion have become clearer, so too has the crucial nature of the importance to the South African system of the Portuguese colonialist positions in Angola and Mozambique, and, by an inseparable extension, in Guinea-Bissau and the Cape Verde archipelago.

This significance to South Africa of the “Portuguese territories” is now observable in all major fields of public policy and action, and ranges from the military-logistical to the very interstices of the South African economic structure. An understanding of the South African government's relations with these territories, as well as of its relations with the Portuguese regime in Lisbon, must therefore be essential to a realistic estimate of likely developments in the subcontinent, and bears, accordingly, a direct meaning for the policies and intentions of the United Nations.

For a number of years the leaders of many African nations have voiced concern about the impact of foreign economic activity in the Portuguese-administered territories in southern Africa. They have argued that as long as a major part of Portugal's revenues are expended on military operations, particularly to suppress liberation movements in the territories, the income from such foreign economic activity helps Portugal maintain its grasp over the African territories.

Largely as a result of African efforts, a United Nations resolution was passed in 1965 that recognized the relationship between foreign economic investment and Portugal's failure to grant self-determination and independence to the territories. The resolution requested that all specialized UN agencies refrain from granting assistance to Portugal and that all states refrain from any financial activity with Portugal that would impede the attainment of independence for Mozambique and Angola.

Relatively little scholarly attention, however, has been paid to the role of foreign economic activity in the Portugueseadministered territories. Perhaps one reason for this is the paucity of hard data on the economic activity in each territory; another is the inherent difficulty of tracing the larger impact of any economic investment. Nevertheless, because of the importance of the issue some assessment seems warranted. This paper represents an attempt to contribute to that assessment. First, the dimensions of foreign economic investment in the territories are examined, with special emphasis on Mozambique and Angola during the decade following the outbreak of wars of liberation. Second, some comment is offered on the influence of such economic activity on efforts to attain independence within Portuguese Africa.

The status of the guerrilla wars in Angola, Mozambique and Guinea-Bissau has long been a topic of debate. While the coup d'etat in Portugal has affected the struggle for liberation in all three territories, the complexion of the debate appears to have changed most significantly with respect to the hostilities in Mozambique. This article presents an assessment of the balance of military force in Mozambique from the inception of the guerrilla war in 1964 through April 1974. Such an assessment provides an interesting perspective to recent military and political developments in that territory.

Five phases can be discerned in the fighting in Mozambique since the beginning of the war in 1964. The first phase began in September of that year and ran roughly to the end of 1965. This phase was marked by the initial military successes of the nationalists, the Frente de Libertaca'o de Mozambique (FRELIMO), and the loss of some territory and population by the Portuguese in the districts of Cabo Delgado and Niassa. The second phase, which began in 1966 and ended at the close of 1969, was characterized by an increase in the ability of FRELIMO to concentrate military force on more heavily defended Portuguese positions but with a decrease in the limits of the zones of fighting in Cabo Delgado and Niassa. Phase three ran roughly through the twelve months of 1970 and was marked by a change in Portuguese counterinsurgency strategy which began with the launching of a number of highly successful counteroffensives against FRELIMO bases and sanctuaries. The fourth phase, which began in 1971 and ended in the first months of 1973, was characterized by a diminishing of the level of fighting in Cabo Delgado and Niassa and a concomitant shifting of the focus of military activities to the district of Tete. The fifth phase, which began in the summer of 1973, has been characterized by the spread of military activities from Tete to the northern sectors of Vila Pery and Beira districts. Each phase is discussed in detail below.

On May 17, 1970, Portuguese colonial forces in Mozambique numbering 50,000 and headed by the newly appointed Commander-in-Chief, General Kaulza de Arriaga launched a sweeping offensive against the areas in northern Mozambique held by FRELIMO, the Mozambique Liberation Front. Operation Gordian Knot was intended to crush the FRELIMO forces which had been operating in Mozambique since 1964. Now, four years after “Gordian Knot,” General de Arriaga has retired from the Portuguese armed forces. Following the coup that rocked Portugal on April 25 the new provisional Portuguese government has opened discussions with FRELIMO in Lusaka on the colonial problem. And FRELIMO forces are operating in strength in five districts of Mozambique—from Niassa and Cabo Delgado in the north, to Tete in the west, to Beira and Vila Pery in central Mozambique. The purpose of this article is to examine the Portuguese military defeat in Mozambique and the growing strength of FRELIMO, to look at the situation as it appears immediately following the coup in Portugal, and to briefly relate these developments to U.S. policy towards Portuguese colonialism.

The most dramatic testimony of the Portuguese military failure is of course the coup in Portugal. Many accounts have noted that General Spinola's book, Portugal and the Future, which heralded the coup, made clear in its analysis that Portugal could not defeat the liberation movements militarily and that a political solution had to be sought. The signs of the erosion of Portugal's position have been evident: the feeling of “hopelessness” among Portuguese youth about the colonial wars; an estimated 100,300 draft resisters and deserters abroad added to the some one million expatriates working outside the country; an increasing tendency for troops in the field “to shy away from contact with the enemy, taking defensive stands only“; fewer than one hundred places taken in the military academy with room for four hundred; the massive discontent within the Portuguese junior officer corps about conditions of service; the growing refusal of military duty (one half of the last class called refused to report).

The impact of African opposition to the Portuguese Zambezi Development Scheme and in particular to the construction of the Cabora Bassa hydro-electric dam in Mozambique was first felt in Europe in 1968 and reached its climax in 1971. It has influenced the thinking and the decisions of a great many individuals, groups, and organizations in the United States as well. In view of the wide publicity accorded various attempts in the United States and elsewhere to prevent any further support of Portugal's efforts to retain control over its colonies and develop them economically, one can assume that the controversy over Cabora Bassa is familiar to most people interested in African affairs. Nevertheless, more information is needed with respect to the facts and viewpoints surrounding the Cabora Bassa Dam project itself.

According to Portuguese sources, planning for the development of the Zambezi valley began with the First Development Plan in 1953. In March 1957, the Overseas Ministry created the Missao de Fomento e Povoamento do Zambezi (M.F.P.Z.)—or the Zambezi Development Office, an organization to develop and to populate the Zambezi valley. The general plan for this development was presented to the government in 1966, and in November 1967 invitations for tenders to construct the Cabora Bassa Dam were issued. Offers were due in January 1968.

The Third Development Plan for the Portuguese African territories covering the period from 1968 to 1973 provides for investments in Mozambique of about US $730.7 million. The costs for constructing the dam and the complete power scheme at Cabora Bassa are estimated at US $517.5 million. Portugal will absorb US $421 million of this amount and South Africa US $96.5 million. The ultimate production of energy is estimated to be twice that of the Aswan Dam. It will be surpassed in capacity only by the Churchill Falls Dam in Canada and by dams in the USSR at Bratsk and Krasnoyarsk. The Aswan Dam was built at a cost of more than US $1,000 million—a figure considerably higher than the estimate for the Cabora Bassa Dam.

From late June through early July 1974, well over four hundred FRELIMO operations were reported in Mozambique. These included major sabotage attacks on the important Tete railway line which links Mozambique's port city, Beira, with the Tete District where the Cabora Bassa dam project is located, the dramatic capture and occupation for the first time by frelimo of a central town (Morrumbala), and the opening of a new front on July 1 in the Zambesia Province between the Indian Ocean and Malawi. This latter action has prompted the white farmers of the rich Zambesia agricultural district to appeal to the frelimo nationalists who, in turn, have assured them that “they have nothing to fear from nationalist action., “

The resolve with which the Mozambique Liberation Front conducted military operations in the three months following the April 25 coup d'etat in Portugal was a sign of the absolute determination of the liberation forces to secure the establishment and recognition of a nationalist government in Mozambique. In fact, recognition of such a FRELIMO government has been virtually assured by what is currently the most powerful group in Portuguese politics: the “political” or “coordinating” committee of the Armed Forces Movement. The young officers who make up this committee remained a small and fairly anonymous body until mid-July and the formation of a second Portuguese provisional government headed by “the brain” of the Movement, Colonel Vasco dos Santos Goncalves, who succeeded Adelino da Pal ma Carlos as Prem.

The issue raised by the Cabora Bassa Dam has figured in the agendas of the principal international conferences, in the world press; it is discussed in public meetings, it provokes popular demonstrations. Big financial interests and reactionary political forces follow anxiously the developments of events doing everything possible to make the project a reality, while the progressive forces try to prevent its realization.

In this context, it is important to analyze the meaning and the implications of this project—in particular to find out which are the reasons determining the different positions on Cabora Bassa.

This ambitious project would provide Mozambique with all the electric power she needs for her development, as well as enabling her to export power to the neighboring countries. It would seem then in the interests of the people of Mozambique that the dam be built. And this is the argument that the forces interested in the project are using to justify their involvement.They argue that the building of the dam will give work to thousands of Mozambicans both in the building and in the resulting industrial complex. That it will irrigate thousands of hectares of land, thus allowing hundreds of thousands of people to benefit from this arable land. That it would attract foreign investments, thus facilitating the development of the country. That it will make the Zambezi navigable up to the Indian Ocean. And that, since independence will come sooner or later, it is advisable to let the dam be built: because an independent Mozambique will be in a much better economic situation with the dam than without it.

On 25 April 1974, we learned from radio broadcasts about the coup d'etat in Portugal by the armed forces which resulted in the ousting of the government of Marcelo Caetano and its replacement by a Junta of National Salvation. This movement, according to its promoters, is intended to provide a solution to the present crisis which the Portuguese regime and society are going through after thirteen years of colonial war.

The coup d'etat which has just taken place cannot be seen in isolation. It is a result of the new awareness of growing sectors of the Portuguese people that the purpose of the colonial war launched by the fascist regime is to suppress the colonized peoples’ aspiration to independence and freedom and is against the desire for well-being and political and social democracy of the Portuguese people themselves.

At this time we hail, in the first place, the Portuguese democratic forces which for many years have been actively and courageously opposing the colonial wars. This growing awareness is closely bound up with the affirmation of the unshakable will of the Mozambjcan people, and of the peoples of Angola, Guinea-Bissau and the Cape Verde islands, to achieve independence and freedom. This will has taken on material form in the armed struggle for national liberation which has been steadily growing and has already reached vital regions of our country. The coincidence between the crisis of the regime in Portugal and the great advances of the national liberation struggle in Mozambique over the past two years is no accident, but additional proof of the impact of our struggle on the situation in Portugal. The determinant factor of the situation in Portugal and the colonies has been and still is the struggle of our peoples. And the fundamental issue upon which the solution of all other problems depends is the independence of the peoples of Mozambique, Angola and Guinea-Bissau and the Cape Verde islands, as well as that of the remaining Portuguese colonies.

I welcome this opportunity to express my views about the situation in Angola, Mozambique, and Guinea-Bissau. I have long been concerned about U.S. policy regarding Portugal and the determined African nations fighting for their independence. Hopefully with the recent change in the Portuguese government a just settlement to this unfortunate situation can be achieved.

For the residents of metropolitan Portugal, April 25 promised the beginning of a new era in Portuguese history. Every aspect of life in Portugal may be reformed if the new government is committed to the development of programs that can reverse the inertia of the past decades. Portugal has been a faithful ally to all members of NATO, and she has loyally contributed to those efforts of our government that have been designated important for the interests of the United States.

Portugal's loyalty and friendship toward the United States clearly deserve continued attention from our government. However, Portugal's maintenance of three colonial territories in Africa has been a serious source of dismay both for her friends and for her antagonists. Unrelenting critics of the Portuguese policy in Africa demand immediate independence and self-determination for the millions of African citizens in those territories.

According to that view, nothing hort of an immediate pullout by Portuguese forces, and a full surrender of all properties to African control, will satisfactorily address the problem of Portugal's occupation of Guinea-Bissau, Mozambique and Angola.

The more moderate view held by the United States and many of Portugal's European neighbors suggests that Portugal must be nudged toward rapprochement with her colonies so that the shift to independence might be managed with a minimum of economic and political disruptions in the African systems.

Portugal s occupation of Africa began with violence, it was maintained by violence, and after five hundred years it is coming to an end through violence.

The story of Inhaminga, the bloody events of resistance and reprisal in the war in Mozambique, is the last chapter of the longest and most use/ess colonial ordeal in Africa's history. It is one more measurement of the lives which were lost, the bodies which were sold, and the destruction which was wrought in the course of Portugal's pursuit of gain and imperial dignity in Guinea, Angola, Mozambique.

The diary by five Dutch missionaries stands with the anguished letters of Afonso, sixteenth century African king of the Congo, with the letters of condemnation written by Jesuit and Dominican missionaries, with the reports of occasional Portuguese governors and administrators, with the speeches of the humanitarian prime minister Si da Bandeira, with the accounts of British consuls, with the exposes of Casement, Nevinson, Cadbury, Ross, and in our time, with the works of Davidson and those of African poets and patriots, Neto, Andrade, and dos Santos.

There is nothing in what has been written in protest—and little that has been written in praise—of the Portuguese occupation of Africa which even at the end can give any sense or dignity to an absurd colonial adventure, a violent misappropriation of Africa and Africans.

And it is this force of violence—turned against the Portuguese army and colonial administration—which has led to Lisbon s sudden and frantic attempts to disengage. In these accounts of the last days of empire one distinction stands out from the protest of other times. As much as the story of Portuguese atrocities, this is the story of African resistance to those atrocities and the rule which created them. The Diary of Inhaminga is an extraordinary document in its simplicity of emotion and detail. It is worthy of the resistance it recounts.