The achievement of independence may tend to dull the interest which African leaders have shown in the organisations that try to influence policy-making in British government. But they should need no reminding that in Britain there are comparatively few means of maintaining an informed body of public opinion about international affairs as a background against which the Government can operate. Colonial policy was frequently left to colonial experts, and the case for African nationalism was argued by a small number of groups such as the Fabian Colonial Bureau, or the Movement for Colonial Freedom.

The absence of an efficient framework of economic institutions is frequently regarded as a major hindrance to the effective carrying out of economic policies, particularly in development planning2. However, rather little attention has been paid to the possibilities and problems of multi-purpose economic institutions, designed for the joint promotion of several government policies at the same time. This gap is particularly noticeable and particularly crucial in regard to Africa. To date, there have been several African examples of multi-purpose institutions, although these have not necessarily been intended as such originally. Set up to fulfil one or two main purposes, they have come to serve a multitude of aims as the need arose, and in doing so have demonstrated a considerable degree of institutional flexibility. Their example might well be deliberately followed in future.

While independence in West Africa focused academic attention on political parties, the proliferation of military régimes in the late 1960s– by 1970, seven West African countries had experienced military rule — brought two other institutions into prominence: the military and civil bureaucracies. This article seeks to throw some light on the place of the civil bureaucracy in Senegal through a study of the role of bureaucrats in the country's political process.

The problem of African advancement has an essentially political side. Since the discussion here is concerned with the overtly economic aspects of localisation, specific mention must be made at the outset of its political implications, especially of the possibility of conflict between economic and political aims. For example, it may well happen that at a given stage of economic development, a country would maximise its rate of economic growth by leaning heavily on imports of capital and skilled personnel, but that this policy is unacceptable on political grounds. Under these circumstances, the country's leaders must decide whether to subordinate economic to political welfare, or vice versa. Economic analysis is not able to offer any guidance on how this decision should be made: except to ensure that if political considerations are to be regarded as paramount, the full economic cost of a politically-oriented decision is known and appreciated.

Pierre Nkurunziza died in 2020, just a few months short of completing his tenure as the first post-civil war President of Burundi. Critics have cast him as yet another rebel-turned-politician who came to office on a promise of a democratic transformation but became progressively authoritarian, particularly during his third, disputed term in office. As a political figure, however, Nkurunziza remains poorly understood. What kind of a worldview motivated his politics? Drawing on critical discourse analysis, we identify three recurring themes in Nkurunziza's key political speeches: anti-colonialism; unity and self-sufficiency; and discourse around ‘politics of a new beginning’. These themes were stable across time, indicating Nkurunziza's consistent worldview, but became more pronounced and radical as he faced growing challenges to his legitimacy from within and without. Far from being confined to rhetoric, the themes also manifested in concrete policy decisions, underscoring the urgent need to take ideology seriously in understanding the political trajectories of African leaders.

By mid-1965 the tensions which had always existed in the East African Common Market and Services had not been solved—nor even notably alleviated—by the 1961 Raisman Commission fiscal measures or the (largely unimplemented) 1964 Kampala Agreement, which had aimed at a programme of trade balancing and industrial allocation. Many observers expected as a result a speedy and bitter dissolution of the de facto East African economic community. The common currency was ending, the joint navy and tourist promotion body were liquidated, quota restrictions on regional trade were being imposed by all three states—but most widely by Tanzania—strains were evident in the University, and an atmosphere of growing gloom and complaint was evident.

The phenomenon of increasing centralisation of governmental authority is often discussed in the development literature, yet there has been little specific, quantitative research in this area. In this short article I hope to make an analysis of the centralisation phenomenon in Nigeria's development, based on such research, using the evolution of the federal fiscal arrangements as a case-study.

In 1966 two military coups were executed in Nigeria, upsetting a tenuous political balance between ethnically different regions and unleashing bitter tribal antagonism. In the first coup, in January, politicians and soldiers primarily of Northern origin lost their lives, and Major-Gen. J. T. U. Aguiyi-Ironsi, an Ibo from the Eastern Region, acceded to power. In the second coup, in July, mainly Eastern officers and soldiers died, and Lt.-Col. (now Major-Gen.) Yakubu Gowon, a minority-tribe Northerner, became Head of State. Because the years before and after independence in 1960 had witnessed scarring interregional rivalries for dominion over Nigeria, the coups were regarded as a continuation of these struggles.1

This article has as its theme the organisation of an African urban revolt in South Africa from 1960 to 1965. Reference is made mainly to events in Port Elizabeth and its near neighbour, East London; it need hardly be added that there were similar developments in other parts of the country. The way in which the revolt was organised was little reported at the time, and the details emerged only in the verbatim court records of the trials of both leaders and followers. Press reports of these trials are scattered over a number of South African newspapers, whose reporting—while good—is not as detailed as the documents; and a few items appear in the overseas press. The importance of this revolt, which is still being waged from outside South Africa's borders, might justify an analysis of what took place in the country itself, even if the research on which it is based remains incomplete.

The constitutional development of Nigeria which started under the British occupation has been marked by two fundamental principles: the decision to set the political evolution of the country on a federal basis, and the effort, far less successful, to integrate the traditional institutions into a modern political system. This second principle will be the subject of this article, which I hope will also shed some light on the complex relationships between tradition and modernity, and thus show the importance of ‘primordial loyalties’ in political life.

What many prominent Afrikaners heralded as a new era of independence began on 6 October 1960, when a referendum was held to determine whether or not the populace wished South Africa to become a republic. As in virtually all other aspects of national political action, only Whites could voice their opinion via the ballot. Supported by the largely Afrikaner Nationalist Party and opposed by the predominantly English-stock United Party, the referendum, passed by approximately 850,000 to 776,000 votes, probably constituted one of the best indices of the relative strength of Afrikaner and non-Afrikaner elements among South Africa's ruling White polity.1 This dichotomy within the White elite and the friction which still sustains it have their roots in the late nineteenth century, when the Briton vanquished the Boer. Now, the situation has largely reversed itself while the animosities remain.

Namibia, formerly South-West Africa, continues from the point of view ofinternational law to represent the symbol of violated right. Even though the United Nations has been seized of the matter for many years and the International Court of Justice has been given the opportunity to adjudicate, the problem appears to be as intractable as ever. South Africa has established her administrative and military presence and means to defend what she considers to be her right with all the forces at her command. The country does not lack friends whose direct or indirect support it counts upon. Yet the fundamental issue remains: Are the people of Namibia entitled to self-determination and how may they exercise that right? It will be necessary to refer back to the history of Namibia from the time of the mandate.