We also have to work sort of the dark side, if you will. We're going to spend time in the shadows in the intelligence world. A lot of what needs to be done here will have to be done quietly, without any discussions, using sources and methods that are available to our intelligence agencies if we're going to be successful.

The introduction of indigenous languages to Kenyan media, following pre- and post-independence realities, opened the floodgate of communications within the country, with both positive and negative consequences. Indigenous languages found expression in creative works, civic communication, and other areas previously reserved solely for English and Kiswahili. Kanana and Kinyua discuss this trajectory within the context of media liberalization, digital migration, and gains from the period of state crackdown on media to the promulgation of the 2010 Kenyan Constitution and devolution of government units reflecting traditional boundaries. Employing secondary research methodologies, they argue the advantages of indigenous languages in the media over the disadvantages highlighted in the literature.

In the 2016 Abiola Lecture, Mbembe argued that “the plasticity of digital forms speaks powerfully to the plasticity of African precolonial cultures and to ancient ways of working with representation and mediation, of folding reality.” In her commentary, Pype tries to understand what “speaking powerfully to” can mean. She first situates the Abiola Lecture within a wide range of exciting and ongoing scholarship that attempts to understand social transformations on the continent since the ubiquitous uptake of the mobile phone, and its most recent incarnation, the smartphone. She then analyzes the aesthetics of artistic projects by Alexandre Kyungu, Yves Sambu, and Hilaire Kuyangiko Balu, where wooden doors, tattoos, beads, saliva, and nails correlate with the Internet, pixels, and keys of keyboards and remote controls. Finally, Pype asks to whom the congruence between the aesthetics of a “precolonial” Congo and the digital speaks. In a society where “the past” is quickly demonized, though expats and the commercial and political elite pay thousands of dollars for the discussed art works, Pype argues that this congruence might be one more manifestation of capitalism’s cannibalization of a stereotypical image of “Africa.”

The empire-building phase of the European powers in Africa, which spanned several centuries, had its climax at the infamous Berlin Conference of 1884–1885, where the colonizers carved up and allocated the African continent among themselves as their respective colonial projects. They would subsequently invade virtually all of the continent based on this arbitrary partitioning—which, among other things, created Africa’s colonial condition. Mention must be made of the fact that uncountable numbers of artworks and artefacts were looted by the invaders from various parts of Africa during those invasions and the de facto occupations that ensued. These looted treasures were scattered all over Europe and elsewhere in museums and private collections, where they currently remain largely unaccounted for.

To all appearances, the transition program of General Abdusalam Abubakar has, from the beginning, been torn between two contradictory policy and strategic choices. The first is whether to appease the prodemocracy and human rights groups by accepting the convocation of a sovereign national conference, with all this entails, including a postponement of the disengagement date. The second is whether to ignore these groups, and organize a rapid, short, and sharp transition program, even if fundamental issues, such as the “National Question,” and restructuring the federation and the military, are sidetracked. By choosing the latter, the Abubakar junta demonstrated first that it would undertake the transition mainly on its own terms and with its own ideas.

In the past fifteen years African heads of state and the Organization of African Unity have striven with little success to unite liberation movements fighting the settlers and colonialists in their countries in Southern Africa. The first attempt was made by Kwame Nkrumah of Ghana and other leaders, and was directed at uniting the Pan-Africanist Congress and its rival African National Congress of South Africa soon after both were banned and forced into exile following the Sharpeville demonstrations. When leaders of both parties fanned out into the world to solicit support, some of the would-be supporters forced them into a makeshift marriage of convenience.

PAT 101: Principles of Patronage reviews the structure, operations and results of a voluntary patronage system. It illustrates the theory of patronage by using empirical examples drawn from The University as a formal institutional structure, and from the academic and administrative operation of that institution. Patronage and educational functions are compared to show how the these two aspects of The University interact, and to document the results which follow from this interaction.

On 27 and 28 February 1972, the news media carried reports from Addis Abada that the Government of the Sudan and the South Sudan Liberation Front had reached an agreement settling the problem of the southern Sudan. The importance of this news to the Sudan, Africa, the Organization of African Unity, the Arab world, and the United Nations lies in the fact that an armed uprising in the largest state in Africa seems to have come to an end by peaceful means.

Every year statistics seem to demonstrate another decline in the quality of life in Southern Africa. The annual growth rate per capita of agricultural production in the region deteriorated to -1.04 percent from 1978-85. In March 1987, UNICEF reported that every four minutes a child under 5 years dies in Angola and Mozambique, the highest death rate among children in the world. International agencies like UNICEF now cite the major cause of this devastation: war waged by South Africa against its neighbors.

Henry Kissinger is supposed to have said that the situation in Southern Africa was the most complex in the world today, and I sometimes wonder which of us has more of a problem dealing with it–we South Africans in trying to solve the sometimes intractable dilemmas of a divided and heterogeneous society, or Americans in trying to work out what on earth is going on down there.

In evaluating the consequences of the $1.7 billion currently invested by U.S. corporations in South Africa, the issue is distinctly not whether or not the U.S. firms involved have adopted the Sullivan Principles. Those principles, purportedly designed to ensure upgrading and equal pay for blacks, are in reality little more than a smokescreen. Behind their rhetoric, U.S. transnational corporations continue to help South Africa build up its military-industry machinery to perpetuate oppression of the majority of black workers.

The General Assembly of the United Nations passed two conflicting resolutions on the Korean question at its thirtieth session in 1975. One was sponsored by the United States, Japan, and 24 pro-western countries, and the other by the Soviet Union, China, and 41 pro-eastern countries. The pro-eastern proposal demanded the dismantling of the United Nations Command and the withdrawal of all foreign forces under the United Nations flag by 1 January, 1976. The pro-western proposal concurred, on the condition that the parties directly concerned came to a new agreement which will replace the existing truce agreement before the withdrawal of the United Nations forces. The pro-western proposal was supported by eight black African countries, and the pro-eastern proposal by 26 black African countries.

The Korean question is the oldest cold war issue debated in the United Nations. Since it was brought to the United Nations in the wake of the Korean war in 1950, it has been debated and voted on in the General Assembly almost every year (see Goodrich, 1956; U. S. Department of State, 1960; Cho, 1967).

The purpose of this paper is to investigate, through a case study approach, the nature of African non-alignment and the African perception of the cold war, especially as related to divided countries. I will first review how the diplomatic relations between newly independent African states and North and South Korea have developed, and next explore how African countries have been voting on the Korean question in the United Nations. Finally, I will discuss the implications of the relationships between the two Koreas and African countries, both in and out of the United Nations.

Over thirty years ago a Nuer said to me: ‘We do not want what you Turks call progress. We are free men. All we want is to be left alone.’ (Jackson, 1955: 150)

This brief essay sketches an outline of the social history of small towns and their role in transforming the social and physical environment of the pastoral Nilotes of the southern Sudan. In broad terms, it is a review of historical and ethnographic facts which have a wider currency in pre-colonial Black Africa. I am less concerned, however with the detailed peculiarities of this centuries-long Nilotic experience, than with an understanding of how unintended circumstances have, over time, engendered the many problems imposed upon local peoples in the contemporary world.

The increasingly common dependence on history for anthropology emerges clearly in the course of these remarks and observations. In the effort to highlight process rather than detail, the paper begins with some relevant observations written by 19th century travellers in the region, authorities in their own time who through their writings, invited and encouraged more intensive European occupation of these territories. Clearly, their observations on the effects of alien exploitation in the southern Sudan were not intended to serve this end, yet the 19th century sources offer muted echoes of the more recent observation by Southall (1979: 213) that “Most small towns [in Africa] appear as the lowest rung of systems for the oppression and exploitation of rural peoples.” A corollary to this insight is the obvious fact that small towns have been a vital resource for those in a position to oppress and exploit.

Political philosophy is concerned with the ends and purposes of government. It involves a conception of “the good life” and is primarily, though perhaps not exclusively, concerned with human beings. A conception of the good life presumably implies a view of how to attain that end. In this view, then, political philosophy is also concerned with the question of means, or how is the good life to he won and secured for the members of a particular community or society or state? Of those people of African ancestry who have done systematic thinking about the ends and purposes of government in Africa in the period since the end of World War II, there are few who measure up to the stature and originality of Frantz Fanon. (For biographical sketches on Fanon, see Caute 1970; Geismar 1969, 1970; Césaire et al. 1962; de Beauvoir 1965, Ch. 5, especially pp. 583, 591-597, 606-607.)

A rejected evolué in both Martinique and France, Fanon came to realize the extent of his own depersonalization and that of other blacks. It was this awareness which, in Geismar's words (1969, p. 24), led him first to make “a revolutionary carthartic break with the past,” and then to “a more definite African revolutionary ending.” His life, as Aimé Césaire (1962, p. 119) pointed out, was short, active and full of personal tragedy.