Patrick McAuslan, Bringing the Law Back In: essays in land, law and development (Aldershot: Ashgate. 2003)

The title of the book sums up my overall stance: there is an important role for law in development generally and in land reform in particular and it is, in my view, wholly beneficial that after almost three decades of virtually ignoring the role of law in development … international financial institutions, aid agencies and scholars in the West are beginning to appreciate and reaffirm both its centrality to development in practice and its centrality to understanding the process of development and change in societies in developing countries. (McAuslan 2003: vii)

He who is able to translate others' interests into his own language carries the day. (Latour 1983: 144)

In the modern global economy, transnational corporations have become important sources of technology, market access and capital – all of which states seek in propelling economic growth. States themselves provide territory, and establish the ‘rules of the game’ by which corporations may operate within that territory. However, with the commodification and commercialisation of indigenous cultural and intellectual property, states are bypassed and negotiations emerge between corporations and sub-state actors who claim to represent population segments. May the bypassing of the state further weaken national or state identity among indigenous groups? Such is the case that may be emerging in Africa with groups who claim profits derived from the development and marketing of indigenous cultural and intellectual property. This paper explores the possibility that profit-sharing agreements between transnational corporations and sub-state groups may contribute to the widening of ethnic cleavages in African states by promoting inequalities between groups.

The European Union's Common Agricultural Policy (CAP) has long been criticised for its price-distorting impact on world markets. Pressure to reform the CAP emanated previously from domestic European concerns over the costs, efficacy and efficiency of the policy and, internationally, from countries whose competitive advantage was undermined. More recently developing countries, NGOs, multilateral institutions and development agencies have orchestrated a campaign to liberalise European agriculture, in the expectation that developing countries will benefit from a shift in production away from high-cost European producers. But it would be naïve to think of liberalisation as bringing universal benefits to the developing world. Inevitably, under any system of regulation, market or intervention, there will be a complex pattern of winners and losers. This paper examines the impacts of Europe's sugar policy on southern Africa and finds, somewhat surprisingly, that the region stands to benefit more from a preservation of the status quo than from liberalisation.

Does a leader's ethnicity affect the regional distribution of basic services such as education in Africa? Several influential studies have argued in the affirmative, by using educational attainment levels to show that children who share the ethnicity of the president during their school-aged years have higher attainment than their peers. In this paper we revisit this empirical evidence and show that it rests on problematic assumptions. Some models commonly used to test for favouritism do not take adequate account of educational convergence and once this is properly accounted for the results are found to be unstable. Using Kenya as a test case, we argue that there is no conclusive evidence of ethnic favouritism in primary or secondary education, but rather a process of educational convergence among the country's larger ethnic groups. This evidence matters, as it shapes how we understand the ethnic calculus of politicians.

The rôle of foreign assistance in the development process is not only complex, because exogenous donors infuse ideas and capital into diverse and dynamic socio-economic settings, but also contentious, because the impact can alter the development prospects of recipient states and communities. Different perceptions and ideological underpinnings shape the parameters in which programmes are finally implemented, and the views of those most directly concerned affect the outcome of the intervention, often in ways unforeseen by the donor or state. The process of accumulation can be altered, whilst some classes and institutions may be strengthened over others.

How do some places with weak institutional capacity avoid being caught in the cycles of violence and criminality so often associated with African institutions in the ‘failed states’ literature? This paper exploits in-country variation in piracy incidence across different regions of Somalia to investigate how some territories with low state capacity can nonetheless deter piracy and provide relative order. We find that the usual explanation – state ‘failure’ in Somalia, compared with a reasonably functional government in Somaliland – does not withstand scrutiny. Somaliland's lack of piracy was not due to ‘strong’ state institutions, but can be attributed to the strength of a discourse that emphasises Somaliland's ‘inherent’ capacity for order against the disorder supposedly endemic to the rest of Somalia. The exploration of the discursive underpinnings of Somaliland's supposed ‘piratelessness’ has implications for understanding the relationship between state institutions, political order and violence, particularly where the state does not exercise a monopoly on force.

The article examines two decades of Jerry Rawlings’ rule in Ghana. It seeks to explain why Rawlings’ revolutionary populism did not develop in the direction that he envisaged: a new kind of popular democracy. Instead, Rawlings oversaw the reintroduction of Ghana's popularly preferred political system: ‘Western-style’ multi-party democracy, despite his avowed intention of not doing so. To what extent was this outcome surprising or puzzling? The article explains that it was neither surprising nor puzzling as Rawlings’ regime, the PNDC, lacked the capacity to introduce a radical new political system, despite his desire to do so. His aim – to craft a new kind of popular democracy – was not achievable as both internal and external opposition forces were stronger in their desire for multi-party democracy and a neo-liberal economic system.

When the details of the ‘Kissinger proposals for the transition to majority rule in Zimbabwe were made public in October 1976, containing generous proposals for the compensation of white Rhodesian settlers, a chord was struck among observers of African politics that the history of decolonisation in Kenya was about to repeat itself. There the British Government and international monetary agencies lent funds to the new African Government to compensate white settlers for the expropriation of their farms in the highland regions. The similarity between the Kenyan and Rhodesian colonial situations goes far deeper than the willingness of the western powers to bail out white settlers in a time of adversity. External financial assistance in Kenya ensured a smooth transition to a neo-colonial economy in which international capital was permitted expanded access to the resources and markets of Kenya and the East African region. Similarly the sudden concern of the western bloc for majority rule in Rhodesia and for the establishment of a ‘Zimbabwe Development Fund’ has been motivated by the prospect of the removal from the western sphere of economic control of the rich resources and markets of Southern Africa.

It is a comparatively recent development that places housing not only as one of the main targets in the national plan, but also as a vital means of achieving other social and economic objectives.1 Admirable though this may be, a number of difficulties can arise in practice, particularly with regard to the question of new housing where many dwellings may be on unsuitable sites and require relocation or extensive redevelopment. The point is that remedial measures are likely to have only short-term effects, unless several underlying – and often conflicting – variables are taken into account. Four such variables have assumed importance in the planning for future housing needs in the Greater Manzini Area of Swaziland, and it is the purpose of this article to illustrate how policies relating to industrial location, urban growth, and housing, interact with the tenurial system in force.

In 1977 the member-states of the European Community (E.C.) adopted a collective strategy designed to and apartheid and to encourage the economic independence of South Africa's less-developed neigh-bours. The respective foreign-policy instruments used to achieve these goals were the Code of Conduct and the Lomé Convention, through which assistance was provided for the Frontline states. The scope of the Community's Southern African actions was enlarged in 1985 to include a range of sanctions against Pretoria similar to those adopted by other governments.

Marxist scholarship on South Africa's political economy was born as a meta-theoretical critique of liberalism in the 1960s and matured into a rich tradition of its own by the 1980s. As Marxists became more focused empirically and conceptually, they presented compelling evidence for their key analytical claims and generally bettered their liberal rivals—as they saw and portrayed them—in the debate over the complicity of capitalist development in the officially mandated racism of South Africa. Whereas liberals either ignored, minimised, or denied an association, Marxists argued that capitalism and its dominant classes systematically promoted and actively underwrote apartheid in particular, and white domination in general.

We appreciate the opportunity to engage with Nyssen et al.'s (2004, this issue) response to our earlier JMAS paper (Keeley & Scoones 2000). While they make a number of important points – many of which we agree with – we feel, however, that they fundamentally misrepresent our paper, and miss the central argument. This may be due to lack of clarity on our part, so, to kick off our response, it is perhaps worth reiterating the key points of the original piece.

A constitution enjoys a special place in the life of any nation, for it regulates not only the exercise of political power, but also the relationship between political entities and between the state and persons. Being the supreme law, it helps to shape the organisation and development of society both for the present and for future generations, and sets objective standards upon which the people and the international community can judge government performance, thus providing a measure of accountability and transparency in national and local affairs. Further, a constitution sets out the rights and duties of the citizens, and provides mechanisms to enable them to protect their interests. Overall a constitution can contribute to the development of a politically active civil society as well as promoting good governance, accountability and the rule of law.

Prior to the 1990s the history of constitutions and constitutionalism in Commonwealth Africa, as elsewhere on the continent, was bleak. The newly independent states started life with the Westminster export model constitution bestowed upon them by the British. There was little or no opportunity for public debate on the document, and the nationalist leaders themselves had no genuine choice as to its structure and contents. The futility of forcing the model on the newly independent states, in the words of Karugire ‘a triumph of hope over experience’, inevitably led to constitutional instability and a round of constitution-making and amendment wholly designed to enhance executive power, remove checks and balances, and undermine the enjoyment of fundamental rights and freedoms.

Cameroon's autocrat, Paul Biya, declared war on Boko Haram in 2014. Using a variety of ethnographic materials, this article examines the politics of rumours and conspiracy theories that have defined the popular response to this war in Cameroon. It underlines the mobilising force of these rumours on intra-elite struggles within the national context as well as on international relations, particularly on French–Cameroon relations. I argue that rumour-mongering is a central mode of production of suspicion in times of war and social crisis. Yet, the current rumours in the wake of the war against Boko Haram in Cameroon are inscribed within a historical framework of a state-directed politics of paranoia that seeks to define ‘enemies of destabilisation’. In the end, this politics of suspicion also works to bring otherwise disaffected Cameroonians to support the autocratic Paul Biya as a victim of foreign plots for regime change in Cameroon.

Niccolo Machiavelli and Frantz Fanon are in the tradition of political philosophy. Do they not address themselves to the notion of freedom, the concept of legitimacy, and the moral basis of political action? This article will further argue that there exists a notable correspondence of thought between them.

The political thought of Machiavelli enjoys ubiquitous fame. Its pristine vigour is attested to by the fact that, through the past four and a half centuries, dictators and democrats have embraced its values.1 Yet there is no patent contradiction in this if one realises that Machiavelli deals compellingly with what is while not rejecting what ultimately ought to be; his prince is a sort of political Everyman concerned with realising the kingdom of earth.

This article grew out of a more detailed study of all tried cases of homicide in Western Nigeria from 1966 to 1972. While reading more than I00 court transcripts and trial opinions, I was struck by what seemed an inordinately large number of accused with symptoms which westerners associate with mental or emotional illness. I was also conscious of judges being forced to apply an awkward, and at best difficult, standard for the determination of criminal insanity with sparse direct evidence and, in many cases, without the help of expert testimony.

It is still frequently asserted that the economic sluggishness plaguing most Third-World countries stems from a general lack of resources. The scarcity of capital in both the public and private sectors, it is claimed, prevents the investment needed to achieve development. On the other hand, a fewdeveloping countries with highly profitable exports – notably those that export oil – reap large financial surpluses, including foreign exchange, but do not invest them locally in productive activities. The problem here is supposed to be insufficient ‘absorptive capacity’ due to the absence of skilled personnel and inadequate physical and social infrastructure, restricting the translation of financial resources into real investment. The situation in Botswana provides a test for both these hypotheses, making possible a deeper understanding of the potential rôle of financial resources in the development process.

The Sudan is the largest country in Africa and ranks as one of the poorest, with an estimated income per capita of U.S.$400 in 1983.1 It is predominantly rural and sparsely inhabited, with an estimated total population in 1985 of 21.6 million, of whom as many as almost half are younger than 15 while only three per cent are aged 65 and over.2 The crude birth rate approaches 50 per thousand and the annual growth rate of the population is likely to be about three per cent.3 Harsh environmental and poor sanitation conditions contribute to a relatively high incidence of morbidity and infant mortality, with severe diarrhoeal diseases as a major cause of ill-health and child death. Life expectancy at birth is currently estimated to be only 48 years, while the infant mortality rate is put at 118 per thousand live births.4

Third-World governments have frequently professed the virtues of trade diversification, and they have voiced a number of legitimate concerns about what can happen if this is not achieved. First, the greater the geographical concentration of their export trade, the more vulnerable are they to fluctuations arising from changes in the level of imports, devaluations, or other developments in their principal markets.1 When, for instance, exports were directed predominantly towards the relatively slow-growing European Economic Community in the late 1970s and early 1980s, the exporting countries might have been better off if their outlets had been more diversified. Second, various pressures may be exerted to induce smaller countries to purchase most of their needed imports from the larger trading partner that has bought most of their exports.2 Those with geographically concentrated exports are particularly vulnerable in tariff disputes, or what J. A. Conybeare has termed ‘trade wars’.3 Finally, countries which are particularly dependent on individual export markets are vulnerable to ‘linkage’ pressures – attempts by their powerful partners to utilise economic leverage to force concessions on non-trade issues, often political in nature.4