In the newly developing countries, major aspects of economic organisation are subject to foreign control. The citizens and governments of such countries learn to live with the effects of pervasive economic dependence upon the industrial powers. Foreign governments and businessmen often determine the rate and scope of local capital investment, the development and use of economic resources, the composition and direction of external trade.

Even those who do not see the struggle between capital and labour as necessarily antagonistic in a capitalist economy, recognise that it represents one of the most critical areas of potential conflict. This must be analysed by those who wish to study industrial relations and to understand class struggle. Furthermore, the complexity of issues involved is such that people with the most divergent perspectives have often found themselves emphasising the same facts to achieve very different objectives.

The purpose of this article is to elucidate the factors underlying the rise of political opposition against the régime of Mobutu Sese Seko, and this should help clarify the background to the Shaba wars of 1977–8. The major argument is that these factors are intimately related to two major aspects of a continuous political crisis in Zaïre today, namely: the democratic struggle against Mobutu's dictatorship and reign of terror, and the popular movement for a ‘second independence’. In order to substantiate this argument, the article traces the growth of organised opposition to four interrelated phenomena: (1) the ideological split in the anti-colonial nationalist movement between ‘radicals’ and ‘moderates’, (2) the leadership struggle among the moderates themselves, (3) the neo-colonial character and tasks of the post-colonial state, and (4) the autocratic nature of Mobutu's oppressive rule.

Most Africans in Kenya have always lived and worked on the land, and until fairly recently their land-tenure arrangements have been governed by customary law. Colonial administrators were divided about the desirability of granting individual titles to African farmers, and concentrated their efforts on persuading them to plant cash-crops, to fight soil erosion and, where necessary, to consolidate their holdings. It was only in the mid-1950s, when large-scale compulsory land consolidation schemes were initiated in the Kikuyu Land Unit, that serious thought was given to the nature of the title which the owner of a consolidated holding would acquire.1 The East Africa Royal Commission advocated the adjudication and registration of individual titles in suitable areas,2 and eventually a working party was appointed to consider what legislation would be necessary to implement this recommendation. As a result of its report,3 a system of registration of title based on the English model was introduced. Once the processes of adjudicacation and consolidation have been completed, the title of the owner is registered and, where appropriate, any interests not amounting to ownership are also entered on the Land Register. The land thereupon ceases to be subject to customary law,4 and is governed instead by the complete code of substantive law – based broadly on English law – which is contained today in the Registered Land Act, 1963.

Economic dependence and cultural diversity are the bedrock upon which the élites of ex-colonial states attempt to construct a functioning state apparatus, a viable economy, and a sense of nationhood to surround and enshrine the emergent order. The achievement of national integration is sought in language and education policies, cultural and ideological programmes, and the structuring of access to – and distribution of – available resources. It is basically for this reason that a number of governments in the Third World require their highly educated youth to spend a year of service to the nation after they leave the university. Hence the National Youth Service Corps in Nigeria, which started operating in 1973, amidst great publicity, and has since become an established part of governmental and student planning. By mid-1979 about 46,000 had passed through the programme, serving the nation in a variety of jobs, mainly as teachers, before being employed in either the private or public sector.

The orthodox tradition in studies and explanations of lab our migration has been to adopt the perspective of those who move. Such a framework of analysis has then addressed itself to (i) the reasons why individuals and groups decide to migrate, and (ii) the consequences. As regards the first issue, it has generally been accepted that the phenomenon of migration is in response to economic forces that push and/or pull people out of their own communities into others – the ‘invisible hand of the market’. As for the second issue, emphasis is placed on the problematics of adjustment or assimilation into the host community, and also on the new values, as well as the other stimulants – good or bad – that the returning migrants bring home.

In the 1950s the South African Government developed a broad strategy aimed at maintaining the supply of forced labour, named apartheid or ‘separate development’. Much more than a system of segregation, the programme involved moving large numbers of Africans from the urban centres into the underdeveloped Reserves, comprising 14 per cent of the least arable land in South Africa. Industry would then be shifted to the borders of these Bantustans. This last element of the scheme, the policy of industrial decentralisation, has been the main instrument for providing income to Africans in the rural areas. By examining this element in South African state planning, within the context of the apartheid system as a whole, I have tried to isolate some of the crucial dynamics of forced labour.

It can be suggested that the ‘economic development’ of most Third-World nations today will be reflected in two distinct but interrelated processes: (1) a rise in economic productivity and in real incomes, and (2) a reduction in fertility and a corresponding slowing down in the rate of population growth.1 Historically, an increase in both the number of cities in a country and the number and proportion of the population living there, has been closely associated with both these processes. Accordingly, as urbanisation proceeds in Africa it might logically be assumed that economic growth and demographic modernisation are also taking place. It is our purpose in this brief article to offer a partial explanation for the fact that this historical association has not characterised recent trends in the continent.

Since 1967, the year of the Arusha Declaration, Tanzania's rural policy has provided a major focus for scholars interested in the problems of development in the Third World.1 Jonathan Barker has noted that many writers on Tanzania's rural policy fall into one of two camps: ‘production socialists’ who make the basic assumption that communal production per se is desirable, and concentrate much of their research activity on the various social and political constraints; and ‘production liberals’ who are generally sceptical of the effectiveness of communal production, and they would prefer to see greater emphasis placed on the ‘self-improvement motive of families and individuals’.2

It is reasonable to assume that violence is a common recurring condition in all parts of the world, during all periods of history, and at all stages of social development. Yet there is not a single, compelling theory that specifies, even crudely, a comprehensive causal model of political violence.1 The reason, as C. N. Cnudde points out, is ‘that the processes which bring about change in a unit as vast as a nation are much more complex than any single theory predicts’.2 This complexity of the process has not, however, hindered the growth of scholarly literature. On the contrary, social scientists, despite certain theoretical and methodological difficulties, have subjected this relatively uncharted area to further exploration.