What is Japan's basic policy towards South Africa? According to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Tokyo:

Japan, which firmly supports the self-determination of the African people and strongly opposes racial discrimination, has earnestly desired a solution to the problems in southern Africa.

Japan strongly condemns the continuation of racial discrimination in South Africa and has demanded that the Government of South Africa abolish such discrimination. From this standpoint, Japan maintains no diplomatic relations with South Africa and has prohibited such direct investment as the establishment of joint ventures by Japanese firms in that country. Furthermore it has imposed restrictions on cultural, educational and sport exchanges between Japanese and South Africans, respecting the relevant United Nations resolutions.

This article sets out to portray the mood, the aspirations, the determination, and the main problems of contemporary Africa. To some extent it is necessary to distinguish between colonial Africa and free Africa, although the differences between the two should not be exaggerated.

A full decade of African administration by Africans has gone by. It will soon be time to examine their achievements and to formulate and explore a number of new questions. What was Africanisation all about? Was it anything more than a localisation of personnel? Have Whitehall attitudes been replaced by Nigerian or Tanzanian, or even African attitudes? Has a newly shaped philosophy of public administration emerged?

Scholars have very little information on inter-regional economic relations within African countries. This article focuses on patterns of inter-regional and socio-ethnic group migration and business relations in Nigeria,1 with special reference to entrepreneurs who make or deal in footwear. The material presented refers only to the two-year period prior to the coup d'état of January 1966.

This article is an attempt to present (and thereby to come to terms with) an important aspect of the meaning of race as it relates to the experience of black people, especially in America. It commences with Edward W. Blyden because his ‘color complex’ is of a kind that brings us back, not without much embarrassment, to the realisation that while colour may be a state of the mind, it is also and even primarily a matter of the body. Blyden is particularly appropriate as a starting point, for he is an epitome, in many ways, of the African experience in the later nineteenth century, linking (as he does) the multiple experiences of the Caribbean, the United States, and mainland Africa. He wrote at a time when the intellectual and other currents in ‘Negro’ America flowed easily to the new centres of influence in Liberia and colonial West Africa. He was thus the product of the history of Africanity in his period, and for a long time after.

The speeches and articles of Amílcar Cabral represent an attempt to think of imperialism and the colonial relationship in a new way. His published works sought to explain how a subsistence agricultural society was being transformed under the abnormal conditions attendant upon colonial domination. Superficially, Cabral does not present any new or particularly complex interpretation of colonialism. With the exception of a few rather brief essays, most of his work is a description of a guerrilla war fought against the last of the great colonial powers. Yet the appearance of the terms ‘mode of production’ and ‘productive forces’ indicates that his understanding of imperialism is founded on a new set of presuppositions. Cabral used these terms before they became common among the ranks of the ‘advanced left’, and at a time when the concept of the mode of production was essentially a possession of Soviet Marxism. In the early 1960s, Soviet visions of the ‘Asiatic Mode of Production’ were achieving much the same effect as modernisation theory in the West. That most of Cabral's important essays were written at this time only emphasises the innovativeness of his work.

The appalling experience of most African countries has led many observers to conclude that the continent has now reached a critical stage in its development, and that a political, social, and economic ‘nightmare’ by the turn of the century cannot be ruled out.1 One pessimistic scenario suggests that even with fundamental improvements in domestic economic management, up to four-fifths of Africa's population in 1995 will be below the poverty line compared with three-fifths today.2 This is the context in which African leaders enunciated new development priorities in their 1980 Lagos Plan of Action, notably greater self-reliance and industrialisation geared to domestic markets. Outside the continent, a growing concern with dismal African prospects has generated two action programmes by the World Bank,3 while new guidelines have recently been produced in the European Community for supporting African development.4 Without exception, all of these appraisals see a major role for regional co-operation and economic integration.

The great strength, durability, and versatility of steel has undoubtedly caused this engineering material to become, almost literally, an essential foundation of present-day civilisation.1 Indeed, it is sometimes used as one of the indices of measuring the economic advancement of nations because of its widespread direct and indirect application. The commercial importance and strategic significance of steel has been recognised in Nigeria for many years, and this has prompted successive Governments to initiate various plans designed to create a metallurgical industry. As the country continues to expand its manufacturing output, as well as to produce more oil and to refine more petroleum, so the demand for the precious metal will go on increasing tremendously.2 The creation of an iron-and-steel complex by means of a combined investment of over 5,000 million is clearly Nigeria's biggest industrial undertaking and emphasises its resolve to attain greater self-reliance.3

Since the cessation of conflict in 2002, Sierra Leone has experienced extraordinary levels of involvement from Western donors. Paradoxically, while relationships are often portrayed on the ground as strong with significant donor influence, our research shows considerable fluidity in individual and institutional relationships. The article disaggregates donor–government relations at various levels over a short but crucial period, 2010–16, asking in each case who occupies the driving seat. In so doing, the article interrogates the concept of ‘extraversion’, investigating to what extent government – and indeed donors – has space in which to manoeuvre and how and why government and donors act as they do in this space. The period 2010–16 is of particular interest due to extreme iron ore price volatility and the Ebola epidemic of 2014–15. The article adds much-needed critique and empirical evidence to the debate on donor influence and ‘extraversion’.

Colonial and neo-colonial situations are characterised by an absence of power-sharing, though those who have the political power may allow token participation by others. Tokenism exists in many aspects of life, though typically minority-group members enjoy greater economic and adminstrative rights than political and legislative rights. In the last analysis, the governmanet is not accountable to such minorities because they are not part of the electorate.

The Objective of this article is to reassess the influence of the Muslim brotherhoods on politics in Senegal. In 1965–6 I undertook a study of the subject, but the resultant publication was not the first, nor indeed the most in-depth, research on the topic which has attracted the attention of scholars for many years.1 Beginning with the colonial administrator Paul Marty, and including the noted scholar Vincent Monteil, French observers have documented the peculiar organisation, power, and influence of the Muslim confrérie2 – the tariqa or sufi order introduced from North Africa to Senegal during the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries.3 Since independence in 1960, interest in the brotherhoods has intensified as the pattern of relationships became clear between modern African politicians and traditional Muslim leaders. Most notable were the marabouts heading the Murddiyya or Mouride order, 4 centred among the Wolof in the productive agricultural zone of central Senegal where most of the major crop, groundnuts, is produced.

Academics and aid officials are increasingly turning their attention to two aspects of rural development: the structure of the local society, and the social impact of agricultural programmes. In part this reflects a pessimistic and moralistic reassessment of earlier attempts to promote development in the Third World. However, this analytical focus also represents the continuing evolution of research by those who are engaged in refining their theoretical perspectives on rural society.

It seems that one of the major fallacies today is that of generalisation. We have all had our fill of the writer or speaker who refers to ‘the African and his animistic religion’, ‘the Zulu and his impi-membership’, or the ‘military syndrome’ in African politics. Every intelligent reader and student is conscious of the danger of generalisation and the tendency to lump under some uniform heading ‘the African’, ‘the Negro’, and ‘the Afrikaner’. While animism, the impi, or military coups may mark or may have marked particular groups of people at a particular time, it is as dangerous to use such generalisations as it is to use the sweeping term ‘the Afrikaner’.

Company dividend policy involves the periodic determination of the proportion and stability of a firm's distributable earnings payable to its equity shareholders. The variables which influence the decision, especially in developed economies, have been highlighted by the pioneering work of J. Lintner,2 and by the research findings of other scholars.3

Following the useful distinction made by Marc J. Swartz this is a study in ‘local-level’ rather than ‘local’ politics, because of the fundamental fact that ‘actors and groups outside the range of the local multiplex relationships are vitally and directly involved in the political processes of the local group’.1 The political process is therefore not discrete. My focus is on the interrelationships existing between political forces within and outside the Kgatleng District of Botswana, and my analysis deals with the situation as it existed during the early 1970s; changes in certain key variables – most crucially the attitude of the Chief to the Government – could radically alter the configuration of alliances, as may be seen from my postscript.

No question is currently more topical in development studies than that of employment. This strong concern, which has been linked to income distribution and continuing poverty, as well as more-or-less open unemployment1, is relatively recent in origin. It has generated a number of missions to developing countries by the I.L.O., seen the design (by the same international organisation) of a world employment programme, and given rise to much academic writing. One mildly puzzling feature is that many policies have been prescribed on very limited data.

The emergence of a literature in English in Nigeria is usually described as a rapid post-war phenomenon, an unexpected flowering of creative energy which took scarcely more than two decades to produce rich, ripe fruit. According to most published reports, this literature was born suddenly in 1952 out of the pregnant thumb of Amos Tutuola; was nursed through a wobbly infancy by Cyprian Ekwensi, T. M. Aluko, and Onuora Nzekwu; was guided through a magnificent adolescence by Chinua Achebe, Wole Soyinka, J. P. Clark, Christopher Okigbo, and their numerous university-trained followers; was tested by a civil war which left several casualties but no diminution of the will to write; and was later restored to normal prolificacy by the assiduous application of old and new talents.

The past decade has seen an increase in the scope of relationships, both political and economic, between Africa and the United States. These vary with the complexion of the government in power, though some would say that this was more in emphasis than in substance, others definitely not. It is felt by many Africans, nevertheless, that the Carter Administration's emphasis on human rights has now been downgraded by the present Reagan Administration and that, instead, the geopolitics of U.S.–U.S.S.R. rivalry, and the economic importance of developing the private sector at the expense of bilateral or multilateral aid, have been moved to the fore.

The dynamics of world neutralism, either as an international doctrine or as a state policy,1 have witnessed variable responses from African states since the inception of the ideology known as peaceful coexistence. Between 1920, when Lenin talked of a ‘peaceful cohabitation with the peoples of all nations’, and 1961 when the Communist Party defined peaceful coexistence – by an official imprimatur – as ‘an objective necessity for the development of human society’, and denounced ‘war as a means of settling inter-national disputes’, the chrysalis of classical neutralism could be said to have spanned the decade between the close of World War II and the Bandung Conference of 1955.2