On 11 December 1969 representatives of the Governments of Botswana, Lesotho, South Africa, and Swaziland signed a Customs Union Agreement, replacing that of 1910.1 Preliminary negotiations had been protracted. Bipartite discussions had begun some six years before, between South Africa and Britain, as the colonial power responsible for Bechuanaland, Basutoland, and Swaziland; but South Africa suspended the talks early in 1965, pending a reappraisal of her relationship with the three territories concerned, made necessary by their rapid constitutional advance, which led to complete independence. Negotiations were not resumed until mid-1968; several quadripartite meetings took place in Pretoria during 1968–9, including one at ministerial level. Eventually the detailed draft of the treaty was agreed.

Third-World co-operation on human rights has manifested itself in many forms during the past two decades, but never more consistently and vigorously than on the South African policy of apartheid. This policy of separate development for each of the four racial groups – African, European, Asian, and Coloured – involves measures to effect a degree of purely local or spatial separation, e.g. with respect to residential zones, public utilities, education, transport, entertainments and public activities, and measures concerning political rights, e.g. separate representative councils; and also territorial separation, i.e. the reservation of specific areas for the exclusive use of one population group.1

UNTIL recently the tendency has been to look at African population largely in terms of crude density. From this standpoint tropical Africa was often rated as ‘underpopulated’, and even the recent and prestigious Pearson Commission, although noting the overall effect of population growth on development, stated blandly: ‘In Africa and Latin America…settlement is so sparse that it is impossible to speak of overpopulation.’1 Yet two years before, by synthesising a number of land-use studies and by demonstrating that, in terms of available land suitable for agriculture and pastoralism, there was pressure on rural resources, a prominent geographer had attacked, and one would have thought, had laid to rest, this argument. I do not wish to reiterate his case.2 Instead, using his article as a base, I will attempt here to make very crude prognoses and predictions and then to look at their policy implications, both for the sector discussed by him and for other sectors of social and economic development.

In spite of the predilections of some development economists, the spate of programmes for industrialisation in develop countries – some times supported or sponsored by technologically advanced countries and international organisations – attests to the current widespread belief that industrialisation is a sine qua non for rapid economic growth of most developing countries. However, unlike Japan's industrialisation, which was achieved mostly by internal reorganisation and the acquisition of knowledge and techniques from abroad, Nigeria's industrial progress has so far been charted largely by foreign capital and expertise, so that planners, although imbued with a religious faith in industrialisation, begin to entertain fears about the country's over-dependence on external sources of capital, high-level manpower, and enterprise.1 These fears found expression in the National Development Plan, 1962–68, thus:

This is a brief, preliminary assessment of two significant developments in the United States — the establishment of the Africa Research Group in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and the publication of Ufahamu, the Journal of the African Activist Association, at the University of California, Los Angeles.

Unemployment – and underemployment – of large proportions of the labour force is a central factor in almost all of today's developing countries. For many, this situation has steadily worsened despite the achievement during the last decade of relatively high rates of economic growth. Poverty and malaise characterise wide areas of the countryside as well as large sectors of major cities. These problems were explored by the eighth in the series of international conferences on development, sponsored by Cambridge University Overseas Development Committee. Key questions were posed: What are the facts of unemployment and underemployment? What are its causes? What measures should be taken to generate more employment opportunities and to reduce, simultaneously, the more glaring inequalities in the distribution of income?

On the good foundation built by the University College of Dar es Salaam, which was a constituent part of the University of East Africa, we are now embarking upon our independent existence as a University. This is therefore an occasion for rejoicing. It is also an occasion which calls for re-dedication and renewed endeavour by all those involved. For it is now our responsibility to shape this institution so that it gives the maximum service to the people of Tanzania and their socialist objectives.

In a recent article in this Journal, Vol. VII, No. 4, December 1970, on ‘Developing Countries and International Trade’, Leslie Stein attempts to provide an alternative explanation of the international relations between the developed and underdeveloped countries. He asserts that I argued, in my earlier discussion of ‘International Trade and the Developing Countries’ in Vol. VII, No. 2, July 1969, that the existing trade relations between the centre and the periphery are ‘a major cause’ of the latter's poverty. Consequently, I was led to recommend measures leading to less reliance on the external sector and, more specifically, a programme of ‘heavy industrialisation’. Since Dr Stein feels not only that my policy proposals are detrimental to the interests of the periphery, but also that the statistical findings and the theoretical discussions from which they are derived contain both errors and omissions, he is led to propose an alternative formulation of the international division of labour, which, in his view, benefits the periphery.

One of the basic and most difficult problems of our century seems to be that of the so-called ‘ developing’ nations. Although the generally accepted distinction between growth and development is sometimes questioned, one thing is certain, that in most Asian, African, and South American countries there is a need for development. International organisations and the more ‘advanced’ countries are aware of this, and make continuous efforts towards speeding up the process of development.

Seven years have passed since the overthrow of the independent Arab government of Zanzibar on 12 January 1964, and the installation of a revolutionary African government. The goals of the revolution at that time were, summarily stated: (i) African majority rule, to be implemented through a one-party system; (ii) the nationalisation of the land and the abolition of what were deemed to be the capitalist, exploitative classes; and (iii) an end to racial discrimination and favouritism, which, in practice, was to mean easier African access to jobs, schools, medical treatment, and land ownership — see Zanzibar Government, 1964–1967: We Have Completed Three Tears: the Fruits of the Revolution in the Islands (Zanzibar, 1967), pp. iii-vi.

In November 1970 a new Nigerian co-ordinating body appeared on the scene linking together the four major central trade union organisations – the Nigerian Trade Union Congress, the United Labour Congress, the Nigerian Workers' Council, and the Labour Unity Front. This was known as U.C.C.L.O. – the United Committee of Central Labour Organisations – and was formed specifically to present a united front to the Adebo Commission set up to review wages and salaries in the Federation.

The attention of many Africanists is now absorbed by the extraordinary rate of social-demographic development in the countries of tropical Africa during recent decades, the rapid change of the demographic balance between town and country, and the intensive growth of towns. Africa is now ahead of all other continents in the rate of urban population growth, as indicated by Table I; this shows ten-year rates of growth in the total population of towns with over 20,000 inhabitants, for eight major regions and for the world as a whole. Africa is the only region whose rate of urban growth has accelerated from decade to decade since 1920; during 1950–60, she overtook Latin America, and her growth rate of 69 per cent was well above the world average.

This case history, based on fieldwork carried out in 1968, traces the development of two governing élites in the provincial town of Lira, which is located in northern Uganda and has a population of about 5,000 people. It is the administrative and commercial centre for the 353,000 people, primarily members of the Lango tribe, who live in Lango District. The town's population is about 73 per cent African (80 per cent of them Langi), 23 per cent Asian (Indian, Pakistani, and Goan) and 2 per cent European. In 1968 it was the ‘home town’ of the President of Uganda, where the interrelations between local, regional, and national systems of government were particularly transparent.

It is now nearly five years since Buganda rebelled against the Government of Uganda, and the Kabaka, Sir Edward Mutesa, fled to Britain. Relatively little has been written about these events, perhaps because they happened so rapidly and were dealt with so determinedly that not much precise information is available. In rural Buganda, in such places as Bugerere where I was engaged in fieldwork, party political activity reached a crescendo in the months before the May 1966 crisis and was then abruptly extinguished. Ever since, things have been ostensibly very quiet – indeed the districts of the disbanded Kingdom have remained under a declared state of emergency. During the heyday of politics I was impressed by a clear distinction in the focus of party activity; in the commercial townships on the main road through Bugerere its intensity was immediately obvious, whereas in the farming villages which spread over the fertile, rolling land of the county it was scarcely in evidence. What was the reason for this discrimination? The answer, I was sure, had not a little to do with the unusual economic and demographic circumstances of Bugerere.

‘African Dance as Human Behaviour’, an intensive lecture–film-performance institute initiated and directed by Associate Professor Judith Lynne Hanna at the Lincoln Center Campus of Fordham University, was the first programme of its kind devoted to African dance. The 24 participants, who met each weekday evening during this fortnight, received up to four college credits for their work. Among them were six college teachers and nine graduate students – mainly from the New York area, but some from as far afield as California and Louisiana – two school teachers, and four professional dancers–teachers. The disciplines represented were anthropology, dance, education, folklore, humanities, literature, physical education, social studies, sociology, and theatre arts. Motivations varied: some participants were adding a new dimension to their scholarly work, some were artists seeking to draw inspiration from African dance as an aesthetic form, and others were delving into an aspect of their own cultural heritage.

General Smuts was one of the first to draw attention to the diverse and often conflicting principles applied to Africa by the various European colonial powers. In his Rhodes Memorial Lecture delivered at Oxford in 1929, Smuts made a plea for a survey of the whole situation to find a way to exchange information about Africa. This proposal developed into Lord Hailey's African Survey, published in 1936. After World War II, European governments began to think seriously of co-ordinating their efforts in Africa. In 1945 the French and the British engaged in mutual discussions and were joined two years later by the Belgians, the Portuguese, the South Africans, and the Rhodesians. Scientists working in Africa expressed the need for a framework for co-operation at the Royal Society's Empire Scientific Conference held in London in 1946. This led to the convening of the African Regional Scientific Conference in 1949, where scientists working in nearly every country in Africa south of the Sahara met to review the role, problems, and possibilities of co-operation.2

Historians, political scientists, and scholars in other fields will be occupied for years to come, seeking to understand why and how the Biafra conflict began. Clues and anticipations will be sought in antecedent events and, at present, the Kano riots of May 1953 are generally regarded as having been the first major outburst of violence between Northern Nigerians and those who later assumed the name of Biafrans. Without wishing to detract from the enormity of the Kano events, I feel it is necessary to place on record the following neglected episode in the history of conflict between these peoples.

More and more countries wish to become modernised. Some have less and want more; others have more and are willing to help. Under these conditions, putting ‘western’ aid to work for development should be easy. But, evidently, it has not been. A nation — like an individual — that both recognises the need for help and strives to maintain an identity, finds it difficult to accept foreign aid without reservation. The questions, ‘Who am I?’ and ‘Where am I going?’, concerning national identity and national goals, are still serious issues in development.

‘Europeans are living in a fool's paradise. To base one's entire security on one old man is folly. Hero worship is an advanced form of pathology’. This is the view of a white farmer who lives in the Trans Nzoia District in the northwestern corner of the former ‘White Highlands’ and who has made Kenya his home since: 945. His opinions are not typical of the several score Europeans whom I interviewed in: 968, but they are incisive and essentially accurate.