The rapidly deteriorating social and economic situation in sub-Saharan Africa, and the need for large-scale action to reverse that ominous trend, are captured well in the following paragraph:

It is becoming evident that Africa is in a state of breathtaking and grievous crisis whose… likes may not have been seen anywhere in the West since the 14th century Plague. Twenty-nine of the world's 36 poorest nations are to be found south of the Sahara desert… and 24 of them are now appealing for emergency aid to ward off famine… The percentage of Africans living in absolute poverty rose from 82 percent to 91 percent through the 1970s. In 1983 per capita food production was down by 14 percent from 1981. Five million Africans are currently refugees. Five million African children died this year; another five million were crippled by malnutrition and disease.

In many respects the subject of industrial decentralisation is both a mirror and focal point of issues that predominate in South African Society at large. From its origins in the early 1960s, the state's strategy in this field has been an implement apartheird. Despite a conthinunously changing institutional and spatial framework,2 the policy remains grounded in the attempt to maintain the geographic separation of blacks and whites, by reinforcing control over the influx of the former into the metropolitan areas, and by bolstering the economic political structures of the Homelands.

Decolonisation in British and French West Africa presents some interesting parallers and contrasts. The pressures facing the most important colonial systems during and after World War 11 came from the two new superpowers — particularly the United States — nationalist movements, and internal dissensions. The war Seriously undermined the power of Britain and France and brought into question the moral right of one nation to rule over another. Initially both remained unconvinced about the merits of independence, and in fact the evidence suggests that considerable efforts were made to thwart the process of decolonisation. By the mid-1950s, however, Britain and France succumbed to the three pressures mentioned above, and rather than wait until the situation was uncontainable they chose to guide their colonies along an ‘approved’ path to independence.

If the study of the foreign policies of underdeveloped countries is underdeveloped, the systematic analysis of their foreign policy decisions is not. It is simply nonexistent. – Bahgat Korany, 1984 1

The first half of the 1980s has posed new challenges for African foreign policy in practice and analysis, symbolised by the Ethiopian drought and the conflict in Southern Africa, but generalised in the continental crisis of negative growth. The halcyon days of the 1960s – the innocence and optimism of early African nationalism – have long since disappeared, obliterated by the global and regional shocks of the 1970s. The first independence decade coincided with a period of gradual economic expansion – as it turned out, the continent's last. The years since the mid-1970s – the end of the post-war Bretton Woods era – have been characterised by slow growth at best, for a minority of states, and by none for the majority of countries and peoples. Thus the African agenda has shifted dramatically from nation-building to -salvaging, and from import-substitution to de-industrialisation. Somewhat fanciful notions of regional and continental integration have been replaced by pragmatic imperatives of food aid and debt relief.

The understanding of state formation in Africa depends on the analysis of attempts by Africans to build political institutions which suit their needs in an era when they have been faced with many constraints. These efforts take place in a setting of two dimensions: in time, as part of a history of indigenous culture and political traditions, colonial domination, nationalist independence movements, and the trials of new nationhood; and in space, as the activities of members of a world system of integrated economies and political relations, with a well-defined and sometimes brutally administered pecking-order of power and status. There have been a number of attempts to explain how state institutions in Africa have been created and built up, or perhaps how they have collapsed and been supplanted by alternative structures.

Managers are increasingly seen as having a critically important rôle to play in development and nation-building,1 and doubts concerning the appropriateness of transferring western ideas and practices to third-world countries are assuming urgent significance. Questions are posed about the impact of social and cultural factors on the management of organisations, and about relationships, between managerial thinking and behaviour and the national stage of economic growth. For example, A. Gladstone asserts that management is a key determinant in development in Africa's new nations, and notes that there has been little research and analysis concerning the evolving state of the managerial art in Africa, both in terms of what exists and what is needed … while management training for Africans has developed considerably, is this training the most appropriate? To what extent should traditional African management be discarded… are the various modern Western approaches relevant and effective in the setting up of African enterprises?2

My aim is to examine one particular mode of political participation: the urban riot. In the West African context its importance is enhanced by the fact that there exist few, if any, other ways in which the mass of the population can participate in the political process and seek to bring some influence to bear upon governments. For most of the time, in the majority of states in the region, constitutional mechanisms for influencing governments have been largely absent due to the prevailing climate of political authoritarianism. Only in the Gambia have competitive parties operated throughout the last 10 years, although a few other states (Nigeria, Ghana, Burkina Faso, and Senegal) have had this type of democratic system for part of the time. For the rest, single-party or military rule has held sway, and opportunities for influencing, or indeed replacing, governments through the ballot box have been marked by their absence. Authoritarianism has extended not only to opposition parties — or, in the case of the military, any political organisation — but also to autonomous or semi-independent pressure groups, which have in general been fairly weak, even where not banned altogether.

The work of Frantz Fanon, who died 25 years ago, was the locus of many clashing contradictions. There were many Fanons, living uneasily together. The prophet of a cleansing revolutionary violence, which would re-unite what lethargic white self-interest had put asunder, found strange company in the psychiatrist whose case-histories recorded its traumatic effects: violence was both socially regenerative and personally degenerative, a renovating healer and a destructive sickness, a mystical release and a dehumanising barbarity. The devotee of French culture reviled French colonialism, and the humanitarian realist who acknowledged the revolutionary sacrifices of Algeria's Europeans was no doubt uncomfortable about the partisan propagandist whose necessary racism could not afford concessions to white altruism. Most relevant to the situation and prospects of independent Africa, however, was the deadlocked struggle fought between the committed nationalist in Fanon and the pan-Africanist who sought to make the nation the magical springboard into continental unity.

Knowledge of what actually transpires in African economies is soft. This is particularly true of the vitally important agricultural sector, where statistics are especially weak. Given the paucity and unreliability of the data, analysts often make inferences on the basis of surrogate figures, a process which multiplies the probability of mistakes. This note shows that such an error has been made in the interpretation of African food-import data, and that its correction casts doubt on a widely accepted nation concering African food Production.

At the October 1985 meeting in Seoul of the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank, African delegates insisted that ‘the economic situation is the worst in recent history’.Indeed, it is now widely accepted that the states and peoples of sub-Saharan Africa are in the midst of a crisis of unprecedented magnitude that has been caused by both short-term and long-range factors. Domestic food production has been declining, whilst food imports have increased, and this has exacerbated the televised disasters of drought and famine. The recession in western countries has led to a decline in the external demand for African primary products. Export volumes and values have decreased overall, producing significant fiscal problems, and the resulting foreign-exchange shortages have meant industrial stoppages, an inability to replace infrastructures, and a decline in the gross domestic product.

Nigerians are worried about the inability of their country's economy to support an annual population growth rate of 3·3 per cent, not least because of the persistent decline in agricultural productivity, and the inadequacy of current ad hoc measures in stabilising the situation.

There is, of course, increasing international awareness of the intractable economic and social woes associated with uncontrolled population growth. More important still, there is now considerable interest in devising effective policies and measures for controlling population, and these include the implementation of massive public-education programmes. In Tanzania in January 1984 the Second African Population Conference called on the member-states of the U.N. Economic Commission of Africa ‘to ensure the availability and accessibility of family planning services to all couples or individuals seeking services freely or at subsidized prices‘.2 Implicit in these proposals is the need to develop national communication policies on population issues.

As numerous review articles attest, approaches to the study of military interventions in African politics have varied widely in their methodology and foci of concern.1 Over the last decade, a good deal of runing has been made by quantitatively-inclined political scientists, such as Alan Wells, Roberta McKown, Ruth Collier, and especially Robert Jackman, whose particular path towards the understanding of military interventions has Iain through aggregate-data analysis of structural fratures of African states.2 This line of approach has recently been brought to a high level of sophistication in two major articles: Thomas H. Johnson, Robert O. Slater, and Pat McGowan, ‘Explaining African Military Coups d'Etat, 1960–1982’, in The American Political Science Review (Washington, D.C.), 78, 3, September 1984, pp. 622–40, and Pat McGowan and Thomas H. Johnson, ‘African Military Coups d'Etat and Underdevelopment: a quantitative historical analysis’, in this Journal, 22, 4, December 1984, pp. 633–66. The A.P.S.R. article is described by the authors as ‘only the latest and not the last word on these matters’ (p. 637), and it has already fulfilled this implicit prophecy by generating debate among those who have adopted a similar methodology.3

Decolonisation in sub-Saharan Africa began in January 1956 when the Sudan joined long-independent Ethiopia and Liberia as a new, post-colonial state. Although the process is not yet complete because of the disputed status of Namibia and South Africa's continued rule by a white minority, over the past 30 years as many as 43 new states have achieved independence from colonial rule, the most recent being Zimbabwe in April 1980.