Hunger is the most immediate, visible, and compelling symptom of a continent-wide agricultural breakdown in tropical Africa. The crisis of food deficits has now become so perennial and so widespread that it can no longer be understood as the outcome of particular political or climatic occurrences such as wars, ethnic strife, or drought. SubSaharan Africa is the only region in the world where food production per capita has declined during the past two decades. As a result, the average calorie intake per capita has now fallen below minimal nutritional standards in a majority of African countries. By current estimates, approximately 150 million out of Africa's 450 million people suffer from some form of malnutrition originating in an inadequate supply of foodstuffs. This abysmal picture is further highlighted by the fact that the Food and Agriculture Organisation of the United Nations recently indicated that no fewer than 28 African countries were faced with food shortages so critical that further famine might occur imminently. This stark reality challenges fundamentally our earlier assumptions about the possibility of economic devlopment.

The primary purpose of this article is to offer a critical, multifaceted evalution of the economic assistance extended by the European Economic Community (E.E.C.) to the African, Caribbean, and Pacific Group of states (A.C.P.s) under the terms of the Convention of Lomé. The first agreement was concluded in 1975, followed by the second in 1979, which runs until March 19852. Both, of course, were signed in the capital of Togo. The Lomé Convention is largely a product of the E.E.C. association policy, included as Articles 131–136 in the Treaty of Rome3, primarily at the insistence of France. This led to the Implementing Convention of 1958 which governed the aid and trade ties between the E.E.C. and the 17 colonial dependencies of member states. Specifically, the Implementing Convention instituted a free-trade area between the associated dependencies and the Community, and created the European Development Fund (E.D.F. or Fund) as a source of supplementary aid.

There are nations and there are states. There is, for example, an Armenian nation but no state, and it is the aim of some Armenian nationalists to set up a state. This example follows a liberal European paradigm; that a sense of nationhood creates unity of purpose that allows the state to come into existence, and creates a consensus of popular acceptance that enables it to function. The state may be carved out of something larger, as in the Greek case, or out of smaller units, as in the German case. There is plenty of evidence, ancient and modern, that without a consensus of acceptance, it is very difficult for a state to prosper economically or to be free of repression and crippling internal conflict.

My aim is to provide an exposition and a critical analysis of Mu'ammar al-Qadhafi's economic theory as derived from Part II of his Green Book, and since it is basically an essay of conclusions, sweeping generalisations, and ‘final’ or ‘ultimate’ solutions to man's political, economic, and social problems, my primary interest is to examine his intellectual sources.

This article is an inquiry into the major causes of the continued state of underdevelopment and dependency of Africa in spite of its enormous wealth and tremendous economic potential. It constitutes a follow-up to earlier, historical queries on the present state of African economies:

A quarter-century after its inception, the diversity within ‘African socialism’ remains astonishing. This category now includes development strategies which range from traditional capitalism with limited sectoral planning to collective forms of national autarky. Although it is generally agreed that none of the forms of African socialism incorporates an ‘orthodox’ type of Marxism, the tremendous intellectual impact which Marx and Lenin have had on all aspects of social, economic, and political thought means that it is impossible to construct a theory of socialism which is totally outside their shadows. In effect, Marxist orthodoxy inevitably serves as a tool for the evaluation of socialist theory.

By the time most African countries achieved independence in the early 1960s, education had become a sacred cow for both the governments and the people. For the former, education represented a major tool for nation-building and development which, in those days, meant essentially rapid industrialisation; for the latter, education–especially at the post-primary levels–was the main vehicle for social mobility, primarily because it made possible the acquisition of a well-paid job in the modern sector. For a few years it looked as if there was no contradiction between the aspirations of the people and the goals of the governments, on the one hand, and the socio-economic realities, on the other. Soon the bubble burst, however: industrialisation turned out to be no panacea; the limits of Africanisation were rapidly reached in the civil service, but proved to be a protracted affair in the economy. As the ugly scourge of youth unemployment started to spread in Africa by the mid-1960s, attention was focused on educational systems which began to be perceived as ‘dysfunctional’–i.e. as incompatible with the social and economic realities which were largely agricultural and rural. But more ominously, schools came also under attack as serving mainly the interests of the emerging bourgeoisies.

In a recent study of 90 developing countries by the U.N. Food and Agriculture Organisation, 52 of them were found to have more than 15 per cent of their populations undernourished. This figure was determined using the F.A.O. minimum intake of 1,600 calories per day, only about half of that of the average diet of citizens in the ‘First World’. In Black Africa, 29 of the 33 independent nations included in the F.A.O. study fall into the category of undernourished. Contributions of aid in the form of food and food-production technology are therefore extremely important to this region. Obtaining an adequate supply of food for their people must be high on the priority list for governments in sub-Saharan Africa, and is the focus of this article.

It has long been recognised that political money is a critical variable affecting the organisation of mass parties. These are dependent on the collection of dues for their survival and vitality, for the payment of their officials, and for the fulfilment of the r^les they aspire to play within their communities. Yet the relationship between political money and party organisation has not been widely studied. In Africa, with one or two provocative exceptions, the field has been barely touched. The reasons for this hiatus are fairly obvious. Parties — and, perhaps, particularly those in Africa — are notoriously secretive about their finances, and even when figures are released, scholars treat them with often-justified suspicion.

One of the more popular topics in the social science literature of the late 1960s was coups d'état in Africa. Authors developed sophisticated social, political, and economic measurements that were meant to be of explanatory, if not predictive, value. Military coups often succeed because of conditions that are universal to African countries: poor institutionalisation, over-dampening of demands, economic shortfalls, failure of political leadership, competition among élites including army officers, as well as dissatisfaction specific to the military. With no long-standing indigenous and successful tradition of legitimate civilian national government, African countries are particularly vulnerable to abrupt successions of leadership.

Although the essential character of Africa's dependence on the world system changes very slowly, if at all, particular aspects of it are always in flux. For whilst dependence continues to generate underdevelopment, some growth has occurred in several countries at particular periods with important implications for certain classes. The incorporation of the continent into the world system is an ongoing process that reflects shifts in (i) the nature of the world system, and (ii) the nature of Africa's political economies. The sub-structure of the periphery – the capitalist and extractive modes and relations of production – evolves slowly, but the super-structure – the politics and ideology of the state – are considerably more volatile. Given the organic links between the sub- and super-structure, the instability of the latter affects the continuity of the former.

A 1980 World Bank study paints a bleak picture of the current economic situation in sub-Saharan Africa, where most countries are at the bottom of the development pyramid. They have low incomes per capita, and their rates of economic growth have fallen behind Asian countries of comparable low income. Moreover, population growth in Africa is accelerating while trends in other developing regions suggest a slowing down.

From 1977 to 1979, Nigeria prepared itself for the coming Second Republic. Most important on the agenda was the writing of a new Constitution. The Supreme Military Council (S.M.C.) appointed a Constitutional Drafting Committee, and its Draft was debated by the Constituent Assembly, which included elected members from all 19 States, as well as a number nominated by the S.M.C. The Draft, along with the changes proposed by the Constituent Assembly, were presented in September 1978 to the S.M.C. which made further alterations. That Constitution provided the basis for the subsequent elections of July and August 1979, and the formal inauguration of the Second Republic took place in October.

Most analyses of the problems of collective production in Tanzania have focused upon the political, social, and cultural contexts within which attempts to establish that organisational mode took place.1 Economic dimensions have taken a central place, as well, but the primary concern here has been the socio-economic and the political-economic i.e. the influence of stratification and of the opposing interests of the various classes. That brand of conventional western (‘neo-classical’) economics which preoccupies itself with theoretical questions of individual behaviour and choice has played no real rôle in analysis and research. This fact can probably be attributed to two causes. First, given Tanzania's socialist orientation, and the impact which this has had upon the staffing and research interests of its University faculty, non-radical economics was held in low esteem by most researchers and writers working in Tanzania, particularly by those who concerned themselves with socialist development issues. Second, owing to the fact that western economics has traditionally offered ideological support to private enterprise, it could easily be assumed that this discipline would have nothing constructive to say about ujamaa.

Of the four current schemes for international economic integration in West Africa, the operation of the Communauté économique de l'Afrique de l'Ouest has been recently reviewed, the Economic Community of West African States continues to be widely discussed, while the agreement of the Presidents of Senegal and Gambia in Dakar on 17 December 1981 to establish a Senegambian Confederation, and to develop an economic and monetary union between the two countries, is as yet in its formative stages. This article examines the structure, progress, and potential of the Mano River Union (M.R.U.) about which little has been published.

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.

During the last decade, the flow of oil revenue into Nigeria has expanded spectacularly, dwarfing other sectors of the economy. Its implications for development, for the growth of a commercial capitalism, and for the corresponding emergence of a more defined class structure are crucial issues about which much has been written. What we have heard less about, however, is how the ordinary people of Nigeria react to the floods of petro-naira which they themselves cannot reach. Fortunes are being made out of oil, but the living conditions of the rural and urban masses deteriorate as agriculture declines and the urban centres become overcrowded with the jobless and the impoverished. What are the attitudes of these people to the petro-naira? The answer to this question is no less important than an analysis of the hard economic data for our understanding of what is actually going on in Nigeria today.

In any society, and in any period, there are likely to be certain key concepts into which are condensed the prevailing assumptions and attitudes of dominant interest groups. Such collective representations vary both in their cultural specificity, and in the extent and duration of their appeal. They may derive from pre-existing terminologies, with or without contextual modification, or they may appear unheralded in the popular vocabulary of the age. They may appeal to sectional interests or they may, with variable degrees of success, reflect the values and aspirations of the society at large. Yet, whatever their various origins and associations, they tend to have in common two characteristic qualities: a strong normative content, and — perhaps more surprisingly — a formidable resistance to conceptual clarification. There is, then, a mythic element in such terms, in the way that they both harbour ambiguity and obscure its resolution.

Democratic politics embraces, inevitably and inescapably, an uneasy tension between conflict and consensus. If liberal democracy is defined as the institutionalisation of regular competition for political offices and policies, then clearly, there cannot be democracy without conflict. On the other hand, precisely because constitutional democracy is the institutionalisation of conflict, it is vulnerable to the decay of political order – and of the very political liberties that distinguish it from other governmental forms – that may result when conflict becomes to intense. The containment of political conflict within certain boundaries of behavioural restraint has, therefore, long figured prominently in the writing of theorists on the conditions for stable democracy.

National integration continues to be a matter of considerable debate and experiment among those concerned with the administration of Zaïre, but has attracted little attention elsewhere, even within the country. It is not to be confused with another policy – or alleged policy – that of suppressing tribalism in favour of national solidarity. Although ‘tribalism’ and ‘regionalism’ are constantly denounced by President Mobutu Sese Seko and other officials, they are major sources of corruption which the Government, by its practice, actively encourages by frequently reassigning all personnel in the higher ranks of the public service, and making sure that an ethnic mix is maintained in every agency. Officers commonly complain that the only thing that matters is one's tribal designation, not one's ability or performance. Engineered ‘tribalism’ of this sort has nothing to do with ancestral traditions and communal habits.