IT is widely acknowledged that the origins of Africa's hunger crisis lie only partly in weather patterns. A growing number of studies have emphasised the rôle which the state plays in creating a policy environment which either undermines or promotes commercial agriculture.1 Much of the fault for the latter's poor performance in many areas of the continent is assigned to short-sighted government policies of excessive intervention in agricultural markets. The cardinal sins are considered to be price controls, food subsidies, and state-run marketing boards. As the external debt of African states grows, foreign lenders and aid donors impose economic reforms deemed necessary to address the long-run structural problems. The austerity packages of the International Monetary Fund, for example, aim to reduce demand in the borrowing country by cutting government spending on subsidies, while the World Bank focuses on stimulating agricultural production through a mixture of targeted investments and advice on how to change the pricing and tax structure so as to improve incentives for farmers.2

A Large volume of transactions between states goes through bilateral channels associated with traditional diplomacy. Accordingly, each independent African state has established its network of formal contacts with those members of the international community it considers friendly, and who similarly reciprocate this gesture of good will. Indeed, a noticeable world-wide trend in the last decade has been to diversify and intensify such diplomatic contacts because of the increasing complexity and interdependence of the contemporary international system. But bilateral relations between states, pervasive as they are, by no means constitute the totality of channels of international transactions.

This paper provides a detailed analysis of the cotton sector reform process in Mali from 2000 to 2011, explaining reform delays and ambiguities in terms of the wider political and socio-economic context and aid relationships. Contrary to arguments pointing to lack of state commitment and ownership, domestic stakeholders increasingly worked towards finding an acceptable and consensual reform package. The process encountered quite serious obstacles, however, due to divergent actors' incentives, and the existence of opposing philosophies about what a restructured cotton sector should look like. As a consequence of donors' misjudgement of the political and social realities underlying the Malian cotton sector, dialogue among stakeholders was difficult and polarised, forcing the government to spend considerable time and resources to find a suitable compromise. This paper contributes to a better understanding of the merits and limits of pursuing consensual policy processes against the constraints posed by divergent donors' policy paradigms.

It has been argued recently that implementing a laissez-faire approach to economic development faces serious difficulties in Africa.1 This article provides some empirical evidence on the question by comparing the recent efforts of two countries to move towards less interventionist policies. Both Zambia and Ghana attempted to reverse their deteriorating economic performance by introducing major reform measures during the mid-1980s. Their different experiences illustrate both the positive effects that laissez-faire policies can have when resource allocation has been constrained by extensive controls, and the difficulties of sustaining and financing a reform programme.

Ever since the establishment of the Union of South Africa in 1910, Jan Smuts, one of its principal architects, had visions of transforming it into a ‘Greater South Africa’,. The South Africa Act of 1909 which established the Union provided for the eventual incorporation of other African Territories. It madespecific reference to Southern Rhodesia and the neighbouring British dependencies of Basutoland, the Bechuanaland Protectorate, and Swaziland, Known collectively as a High Commission Terretories because, pending transfer to the Union, they were admitted by the British High Commissioner to South Africa.

There are nations and there are states. There is, for example, an Armenian nation but no state, and it is the aim of some Armenian nationalists to set up a state. This example follows a liberal European paradigm; that a sense of nationhood creates unity of purpose that allows the state to come into existence, and creates a consensus of popular acceptance that enables it to function. The state may be carved out of something larger, as in the Greek case, or out of smaller units, as in the German case. There is plenty of evidence, ancient and modern, that without a consensus of acceptance, it is very difficult for a state to prosper economically or to be free of repression and crippling internal conflict.

The distribution of personal incomes in contemporary African societies is powerfully influenced by public-sector salary and wage structures. Even where capitalist and hence pro private-enterprise development strategies have been openly pursued, as in Kenya, the public service accounts for over 40 per cent of total employment in the modern sector. Where more statist, quasi-socialist strategies have been abopted, as in Ghana and Tanzania, this percentage rises to over 70. Clearly, then, any discussion of income distribution and the potential rôle of incomes policy hinges on an adequate understanding of the processes that determine remuneration in the public sector. And this in turn requires a comprehensive historical analysis of the political economy of each society – in particular, the process of class formation and the rôle of the state.

This article compares the relative size and industrial distribution of artisanal manufacturing and service enterprises in Yaoundé and Accra, the capital cities of Cameroun and Ghana. The primary purpose is to provide evidence on the hypothesis that the characteristics of small-scale production are closely related to the level of development and industrialisation, and therefore likely to be similar in countries at similar levels elsewhere. The comparison is also used to highlight some operational problems of defining, measuring, and assisting ‘artisanal’ or ‘smallscale’ activities.

This article examines the impact of the pandemic on ride-hailing drivers and their mitigation strategies during lockdown in Africa. Ride-hailing has emerged as one of the latest paid-work opportunities for the continent's many unemployed. Yet, ride-hailing companies such as Uber and Bolt misclassify drivers to avoid regulation and responsibilities towards workers’ welfare. Drawing on 34 in-depth interviews with ride-hailing drivers, driver representatives and trade unions in South Africa and Kenya, this article makes two arguments. First, the gig economy in Africa provides work opportunities for the unemployed on the continent and simultaneously vitiates the working conditions through the commodification and informalisation of work. Second, the state-directed emergency measures act as a veneer to capital's efforts to commodify labour and the gig economy platforms have emerged as primary tools for it. Our account points to an urgent need for better regulatory systems to hold platform companies accountable and a collective bargaining mechanism in the gig economy.

On 24 February 1966, Apolo Milton Obote, the Prime Minister of Uganda, marched into a meeting of his Cabinet with an armed escort, arrested five of his Ministers, and suspended the 1962 independence constitution he had solemnly sworn to protect. Since that fateful day Uganda has known no peace. Indeed, factional divisions and the ambitions of politicians, followed by the military dictatorship of Idi Amin after his coup d'état in 1971, soon reduced the country to howling anarchy.

Mozambique has undergone some dramatic changes in recent years. The government concluded a 17-year-old civil war in 1992 and held democratic elections in 1994. Following the adoption of structural adjustment policies after 1987, the government eliminated subsidies on food and consumer items, pledged its support for emerging markets, and has now sold most state companies to private investors. These changes have generated much interest among researchers and policymakers, particularly with regard to their impact on the countryside, where the majority of Mozambicans live and work. Recent studies have focused on the most appropriate rural development strategy for Mozambique now that the war has ended, or examined ways to alleviate the widespread poverty that still exists in rural areas. Other work has analysed the structure of agrarian relations or how to ensure food security. Additional research has criticised the government's on-going policy of encouraging and granting land concessions to private investors. It claims that the policy lacks transparency and fails to consider the rights of local communities.

Sudan has for decades been one of Africa's most fragmented polities. Yet arguably the single most consequential actor in its recent history is among the least well studied: the Sudan Armed Forces (SAF). For most of post-independence statehood, Khartoum has been ruled by generals. This article places SAF in a longitudinal context of the expansion and contraction of state power and the functions of the coercive apparatus in these processes. It situates SAF in institutional logics, driven by historically contingent ideas about the nature of the polity, the role of the army within it and its likely partners and enemies. Doing so historicises the strategic calculus of SAF during the 2018–2019 December Revolution which mobilised millions but ended with a new coup in October 2021. I underscore how institutionalised rivalry between SAF and other security services has moulded patterns of regime change and consolidation: from Ja'afar Nimeiri and Omar Al-Bashir to Abdelfatah Al-Burhan today, anxieties over security competition and state fragility shape SAF's willingness to break with regimes it once dominated and its subsequent subversion of revolutionary change and democratisation.

This paper aims to contribute to debates about humanitarian governance and insecurity in post-conflict situations. It takes the case of South Sudan to explore the relations between humanitarian agencies, the international community, and local authorities, and the ways international and local forms of power become interrelated and contested, and to what effect. The paper is based on eight months of ethnographic research in various locations in South Sudan between 2011 and 2013, in which experiences with and approaches to insecurity among humanitarian aid actors were studied. The research found that many security threats can be understood in relation to the everyday practices of negotiating and maintaining humanitarian access. Perceiving this insecurity as violation or abuse of a moral and practical humanitarianism neglects how humanitarian aid in practice was embedded in broader state building processes. This paper posits instead that much insecurity for humanitarian actors is a symptom of the blurring of international and local forms of power, and this mediates the development of a humanitarian protectorate.

The primary purpose of this article is to survey the political history of the Union Defence Force (U.D.F.) and the South African Defence Force (S.A.D.F.) – the former term applying to the Union and the latter to the Republic of South Africa – from 1914 until 1979, in such a manner that other scholars can undertake comparative research on African armies in general and those in Southern Africa in particular. Although the focus is on one geographical area, namely, South-West Africa or Namibia, for a 65-year time span, this need not constrain other analysts in their choice of location or duration. A secondary purpose is to include the additional element of international organisations, specifically, the League of Nations and the United Nations, because hopefully this will enrich the comparative utility of the research design. The principal organising device of the enquiry is that of the differing rôles of the military unit, an approach which has been utilised in the literature concerning armed forces in non-western areas.1

The majority opinion of those who have contributed to the literature on conversion in sub-Saharan Africa suggests that Islam has been more ‘successful’ than Christianity in attracting the faithful. The standard inventory of explanations for this state of affairs include the following: first, it has been commonly noted, Islam has proved to be more compatible than Christianity with indigenous customs, cosmology, and morality. A second point that has been argued with some consistency (though evidencing not a small measure of ethno-centric bias) is that ‘it is easier for the African to govern himself by the few rules set forth by Mohammedanism…than…by the all-embracing stringent laws of Christianity’. A third, more encompassing stance, implies that conversion to Islam can be accounted for sociologically, ‘while the acceptance of Christianity involves the recognition of divine truth’, in which case a similar line of analysis is uncalled for. Thus, according to William Arens, a thorough review of the voluminous literature indicates that there is an ‘ideological flavour’ in much of what is accepted as objective and authoritative material on this topic, and that a more balanced understanding of the facts could be realised if greater attention was given to the study of the social context of evangelical Christianity in Black Africa.

The question of national unity for the new states of Africa stands at the centre of their political problems. Progress in a variety offields is blocked until they are able to resolve internally the constitutional question of loyalty to a new system of authority which was conceived under colonialism and made a reality through nationalist drives for independence. Africa, more than any other continent, is troubled by the divisions between ethnic, racial, and religious groups who found temporary consensus in the struggle against the common colonial enemy, but who, having achieved independence, find the principle of self-determination now internally a divisive force against a unified national polity and purpose.According to James Coleman and Carl Rosberg, ‘Just as the one-party trend is the most striking feature of the political structure of new African states, so the problems of integration are the major issues and obstacles in the task of nation-building, which is itself the primary preoccupation of the leadership of the new states.’

This article discusses some of the issues involved in the choice of technology in developing countries, especially those in Africa, and the relationship of this to employment and output. The problem is to find an optimum combination of productive resources that comes nearest to satisfying two objectives: the full and economically efficient utilisation of such resources, and the creation of as much surplus as possible over current consumption, thereby making possible new investment and long-term growth.

Southern Africa has been at war since the 1960s. Following the capitulation of Ian Smith's Rhodesian Front and the acceptance of majority rule in Zimbabwe in 1980, the widely acknowledged root of most of the regional conflict has been South Africa. In defending apartheid, the régime in Pretoria engaged in a systematic campaign of destabilisation designed to bring its neighbours to heel. Military invasions, raids, sabotage, support of dissident groups, and assassinations were all part of the National Party (NP) Government's ‘total strategy’ that employed violence as a key element in its regional policy to achieve economic, military, and political hegemony. P. W. Botha during his tenure as Prime Minister and President, 1978–89, ‘politically modified the role’ of the South African Defence Force (SADF), as explained by Herbert Howe, and ‘created the military-dominated State Security Council, which effectively replaced the Cabinet and became the centre of national decision-making and official power in the 1980s’.1 The result was the militarisation of South African society and a swath of destruction across the southern part of the continent.

The last few years have been notable in Africa for the many attempts which have been made to bring about economic integration, on the one hand through political regroupings, on the other by various kinds of economic associations between fully sovereign states. At present, the number of ‘political’ integrations is small. One of the most important recent examples, the Federation of Rhodesia and Nyasaland, was broken up in 1963 after a life of ten years. The Federations in former French West and Equatorial Africa did not survive the independence of their constituent territories. In fact, about the only examples of this kind of integration at present are Cameroun, Somalia, and EthiopiaEritrea.

What is the impact of access to political party finance – money that parties use to fund their campaign activities – on politics in Africa? While multiparty elections have become more regular in the developing world, many opposition parties are still failing to win elections. This paper argues that poor access to political finance weakens democratic consolidation and negatively impacts the participation of less-resourced candidates who are unable to self-fund. As a result, opposition parties are forced to rely on weak promises of aid from international donors and unreliable state funding. This in-depth analysis of political finance, based on extensive interviews with politicians and government officials in Zimbabwe, political documents, news reports and a review of court cases, reveals that uneven financing has weakened opposition parties and serves as an extra advantage for incumbents.