While Africa was in the throes of the decolonisation process, many of its leaders considered classical federalism an effective way of reconciling unity and diversity.1 Along with their counterparts in Europe, they reasoned that federalism would compensate for the nation-state's inability to meet modern political, economic, and strategic demands without at the same time threatening the special interests of the constituent parts. Federalism would avoid the extreme of overcentralisation seemingly implicit in unitary government as well as the risks of disintegration which continually threaten multilateral economic and military communities. Such a system had worked for political craftsmen in earlier times; now it was to be extended to the needs of Africa.

All the new states in Africa have drafted economic and social development plans, for varying periods. Everywhere one sees political leaders and party functionaries singing the popular song of nation-building while crowds respond with enthusiasm. Thus national planning is increasingly becoming synonymous with nation-building throughout the developing nations of Africa. A common problem facing the leaders of the new nations is not how to draft a brilliant plan or organisational charts; this any state can do by seeking the assistance of planning experts and artists. The problem centres on plan management and implementation. This article raises some of the questions and critical problems implicit in plan execution which have arisen during Tanzania's brief experience of nationhood.

Too often dismissed as a feudal backwater in a seething continent, the kingdom of Burundi has scarcely received the attention it deserves from social scientists. If not out of indifference, perhaps out of sheer consternation in the face of the contradictory policies followed by its successive governments, most outside observers have prudently avoided speculating on future developments in this part of Central Africa. This neglect is unfortunate on several counts, not the least being the sense of dismay of certain Burundi élites upon discovering that so few westerners are even aware of the existence of Burundi on the map of Africa. Nor is their rancour in any way assuaged when they realise that the term Watutsi conjures up in the public mind a form of exertion more akin to St Vitus' dance than to the realities of their national culture; and though it is plain that Burundi politics often tend to exhibit signs of disorderly convulsions, policy-makers here and abroad obviously need more in the way of explanation. Quite aside from policy considerations, however, the fact is that Burundi offers one of the most fascinating laboratories for the study of social change, as well as a unique opportunity to observe and analyse the forces which transform traditional orders into modern ones, or, perhaps more appropriately, which impede this transformation.

The Organisation of African Unity is now three years old. In view of the nature of both its scope and its goals, it would obviously be premature to attempt an evaluation of this organisation at such an early stage. On the other hand, the O.A.U. has grown precociously since its birth in May 1963, and the time is ripe for a description of its rapidly multiplying organs, and for some preliminary observations of the multifarious activity in which they have been engaged. To state that the O.A.U. is still in the cradle stage of its development is to emphasise the obvious. It is hardly surprising also that it should suffer the pains of growth, which are likely to be rather severe in the case of a scheme so ambitiously conceived. These facts must be kept in mind while reviewing the O.A.U. at its present state of development.

The subject of this article is the unfolding pattern of economic events in Ghana in recent years. No attempt is made either to blame or to excuse those who were responsible for the conduct of national economic affairs. The purpose is merely to reach an understanding of why and how things happened as they did. There does not appear to be much that is peculiarly Ghanaian, or even peculiarly West African, about the pattern of events. Indeed, the argument of this article owes much to the model of stages of economic development propounded by Dudley Seers with mainly Latin American experience in mind.

SEVERAL years ago, Wilfred Whiteley, the linguist and Africanist, argued that ‘to some extent the nature of political action… may be related to people's conception of what constitutes politics’.1 Formulated in this way, Whiteley's argument seems to assume that all people have some conception of what constitutes politics—the only difference being what kind of conception. But can this be taken for granted? In 1952— to take an example almost at random—Nnamdi Azikiwe, the Nigerian leader, referred in a speech at Port Harcourt to ‘the growth of political consciousness’ in Nigeria. What did he mean? Had the Africans of Nigeria known no political activity until then? If they had, had they not been ‘conscious’ that the activity was ‘political’? Or was it a case of having no special name for this kind of activity as something distinct? If none of these hypotheses apply, what then was meant by this kind of reference to ‘political consciousness’ as if it was something new among Africans?2

THE case for taking a careful look at educational expenditure in African countries rests simply on its size, in relation to government expenditure as a whole and to national income. As Table I (overleaf) shows, most African governments devote a considerably higher proportion of their total spending to education than does, for instance, the British Government.

The difficulties experienced by some African countries in settling their external payments have become a matter of considerable concern, both to the countries themselves as well as to the regional and international institutions concerned with economic and financial development. More and more countries are plagued by these difficulties, while the difficulties themselves continue to multiply. Nevertheless, it appears that the nature, the size, and the implications of these payments problems are not always fully understood. This article seeks to analyse them, to emphasise the need for further study and to seek possible solutions.

What Southern Africa will look like a generation from now is an immediate problem for the South African Government's top policy makers, who realise the precarious nature of apartheid. These planners have rejected both the do-nothing approach of the right-wing elements (e.g. the Republican Party) in South Africa and the multi-racial society solution pressed by Mrs Helen Suzman, the only Member of Parliament of the (relatively) left-wing Progressive Party. Between these two alternatives a host of partition schemes have been advocated, and one of them has been accepted: the ‘Bantustan’ proposals. By geographical isolation of each of the non-White ethnic groups into separate homelands or ‘Bantustans’, leaving the remainder of the territories of South Africa and South-West Africa to the Whites, the Nationalist Government is proceeding to change the face of Southern Africa.

The Rhodesian rebellion was announced by no whiff of grapeshot but by Mr Ian Smith declaiming that he and his colleagues, ‘in humble submission to Almighty God’, were giving Rhodesia a new constitution, ‘so that the dignity and freedom of all men may be assured’. Subsequently the rebellion has continued to centre around a constitutional dispute. Although there have been armed clashes between the Rhodesian security forces and some guerrilla fighters who have infiltrated from Zambia, there has been no conflict between the forces of the legal authority, the British Government, and those which obey the rebel régime.

As Swaziland approaches independence and stands poised to enter the complex political arena of southern Africa, its internal political configurations are changing rapidly and profoundly. The previously irresistible coalition between the traditionally based Swazi Imbokodvo National Movement and the predominantly South African-oriented, conservative, white, United Swaziland Association has broken down, and the Imbokodvo has emerged as the overwhelming dominant force on the Swazi political scene. The coalition, which arose in 1964 to prevent the more radical Swazi political parties from gaining control of the legislative council in the June 1964 elections, arose out of a peculiar set of circumstances which developed in Swaziland after World War II.

In common usage, African nationalism is descriptive shorthand for an assembly ofseparate and distinct phenomena, some of which have already taken on the protective colouring of popular understanding. Africans generally agree that they have experienced nationalism; they know the tree of nationalism when they see it and have tasted some, at least, of its fruits. For many of them, and for students of recent African events, its manifestations are obvious, although the quality of its spirit remains, like most spirits, capable only of inexact description. It is, in essence, pretty much what it is.

WHAT are the economic conditions for attaining Uganda's ambitious development goal, the doubling of income per capita in 15 years? My purpose here is to discuss the logic of five major structural changes which may be regarded as necessary for a substantial acceleration of Uganda's rate of economic growth. Since each of these changes would require energetic government policies to bring it about within the time- span considered, they can also be thought of as key elements of development strategy. I hope that the logic of these structural changes may be suggestive also for other countries at a somewhat similar stage of development, particularly in Africa.

To understand the factors behind the formation of the Zikist Movement it is necessary to examine the political situation in Nigeria after World War II, which had stimulated national awakening to an unprecedented degree. Ideas of self-determination had taken root and various militant organisations had emerged—the trade unions, the ex-servicemen's unions, the Association of Market Women—each with its own grievances against the British colonial administration. These bodies, if properly organised and disciplined, could have become a powerful force in the struggle for freedom.

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.’

THERE was a time when it was thought, in the best places, that in order to justify the establishment of a central bank it was absolutely necessary to have a securities market and a bill market in which the central bank could perform the traditional text-book open-market operations which are so central to the history of the Bank of England's control of the British monetary system.

Since the end of World War II there has been a marked change in at least the emphasis in economic writing. The history of economic theory seems to be studded with controversy; successive writers overthrow their predecessors, and the problem is not made easier by the tendency of the various schools each to claim to have discovered universal truths. In perspective, it is more sensible to see how each major writer or school has attempted to grapple with the problems of the day. What was said was generally illuminating but the principles drawn up were not necessarilly relevant, and were sometimes downright misleading, in relation to another period or another group of countries.1 Nevertheless, each writer how much Karl Marx owed to Adam Smith and Ricardo. At a very different time, J. M. Keynes deliberatelly attempted to demonstrate how misleading ffro the problems of the 'thirties in the developed western world was the system evolved in the preceding century. Although he was clearly right, it is not difficult to discern the extent to which he was a pupil of Alfred Marshall.

Along with modern technology and modern forms of commerce, Europe has exported wage labour, trade unions, and collective bargaining to Africa. Before the coming of Europeans, various forms of indentured, communal, and customary labour existed, but there was no class of wage and salaried workers in the modern sense. During the nineteenth century, a wage labour class emerged, to one degree or another, in every part of Africa. As in other industrialising areas, this soon led to an organised labour movement.

It is generally recognised that governments and methods of controlling them can exist without formal opposition parties—as in a one-party state.1 At the same time, the first flush of enthusiasm for one-party states in Africa is dying away and people are beginning to question whether a monolithic party structure is the best or the only way to achieve political stability and economic development, two driving forces behind much of African politics today. At this juncture, Tanzania presents a peculiarly apt case study, for here is a state which has moved through successive constitutional changes since independence from a Westminster model to a dejure one-party state—and in this, constitutional forms have reflected political reality—yet at the same time has endeavoured to ensure that opportunities for control and criticism have remained open.

This article is an attempt to use some of the quantitative techniques of political science to provide a factual description of the voting behaviour of the African members in a selected session of the United Nations General Assembly. Drawing primarily upon methodology that has been used in studies of the United States Congress, 67 roll-call votes of the eighteenth session have been used to answer three questions which would seem primary to this description: (i) On what types of issues are the African states united and on what are they divided? (2) On divisive issues, into what groups are they divided? (3) How do the groupings vote, combine, and divide on these divisive issues?