Few events alter the socio-economic structure of a country as radically as the convulsions and displacements concomitant with war and political upheaval. In Nigeria the two coups d'état of 1966 and the civil war of 1967–1970 have had a profound effect on economic activity, and in turn have been affected by economic variables. In this study the political variable will generally be treated as independent and the economic variable as dependent, despite the fact that in the period after independence in 1960, tendencies towards political and economic disintegration reinforced each other.1

In less than two centuries the process of industrialisation has spread from a tiny triangle in Britain to nearly 25 per cent of the world population. But it has so far largely by-passed the Third World, including China and socialist East Asia, and the southern periphery of Europe from Portugal to Bulgaria. These developing countries account for almost 75 per cent of the world population, but for only 20 per cent of the world income. On the other hand, the developed countries, with only 25 per cent of the population, have an average income per capita about ten times as high, and account for as much as 80 per cent of the real world output.

Since independence most sub-Saharan African countries have retrogressed from an early period of rising expectations and optimism to growing difficulties in the 1970s and early 1980s, followed by a painful era of stabilisation and structural adjustment measures. A large part of the blame for so many unfavourable developments, notably stagnating growth and untenable domestic and external account imbalances, can be attributed to the nature of the African state.

The study of settlement geography in Africa has not only to consider rural–urban and traditional–modern contrasts, but also to place on the appropriate continuum the various communities which have been relocated since World War II. However, the lack of a general theory in this field has led to much wasted effort on the ground, and to the frequent replication of studies in the literature. Some recent contributions endeavour to draw meaningful generalisations from the disparate literature on settlement and resettlement schemes.1 Perhaps because the subject constitutes ‘an academic no man's land’ wherein ‘no single science or study has yet established its claims and each has its limitations’,2 attempts at an overview have inevitably focused on the individual author's specialist orientation. Whatever the methodological paradigm of these overviews, or of the numerous case-studies, they frequently, if regretfully, arrive at a critical conclusion vis-à-vis the limited results of settlement schemes.

In Zambia's first multi-party elections for two decades, the Movement for Multiparty Democracy (M.M.D.) won a landslide victory over Kenneth Kaunda's United Independence Party (U.N.I.P) on 31 October 1991. Many observers believe that the sweeping 80 per cent majority gained by Frederick Chiluba and his M.M.D. in both urban and rural areas was to a large degree due to the increasing economic hardships most Zambians have been subjected to over the last years. The opposition's slogan ‘The Hour Has Come’ captured the mood of many who had lost patience with the gross economic mismanagement and wastefulness that characterised the Government.

In his Path to Nigerian Freedom – the blueprint for the nation-state he had envisioned – Chief Obafemi Awolowo, the man who later came to be one of the leading figures on the Nigerian political scene, stated categorically in 1947:

Nigeria is not a nation. It is a mere geographical expression. There are no ‘Nigerians’ in the same sense as there are ‘English’ or ‘Welsh’ or ‘French’. The word ‘Nigeria’ is merely a distinctive appellation to distinguish those who live within the boundaries of Nigeria from those who do not.

Without the overriding concern of Soviet domination, Americans are engaging in an introspective re-evaluation of their national interests, values, and priorities. Despite the heterogeneity of all the participants, including the key opinion-makers, a near-consensus has emerged that the United States should be pushing and supporting an external process that has come to be known as ‘democratisation’. This policy stems from widespread perceptions about the special nature of America's identity and rôle in the world. The thesis presented here is that the United States is primarily defined by a particular liberal philosophy and concept of modernity, and that the projection of ‘democracy’ abroad is not necessarily a ‘natural’ or universal evolution of human development. Africa's increasing marginalisation has allowed certain groups committed to spreading ‘American values’ an unprecedented ability to shape policy and turn the continent into a liberal socio-political experiment.

In October 1884, the major European colonial powers of the era were invited to a conference in Berlin by the German Chancellor, Otto von Bismarck.1 The United States also attended the proceedings as an observer nation, and its representative, John A. Kasson, signed the Berlin Convention, one of the primary purposes of which was to regulate escalating imperial conflict by officially delineating the territorial boundaries of colonial possessions. Although warfare between colonial armies in Africa during World War I underscored the failure of negotiators to avoid yet another global military conflict, the Berlin conference none the less consecrated the creation of formal European empires and ‘spheres of interest’ throughout the continent. Except for the unique cases of Ethiopia and Liberia, independent Africa eventually ceased to exist.

For some time, the general enthusiasm for viewing organisations as ‘open systems’ subject to a wide number of influences has had something of a hollow ring. This is shown by the way in which many scholars continue to concentrate their attention on certain selected parts of an organisation and its environment, and to ignore others.1 In 1970 this tendency was described as follows:

It has become increasingly apparent over the last decade that rural development is one of the most significant, complex, and intractable problems facing the newly-independent states of Africa. Colonialism left a legacy of unbalanced and vulnerable economies in which the impoverishment of the rural areas made rational planning for growth and self-sufficiency difficult if not impossible. Rural poverty also exacerbated the problems of urban migration and political hostility between the privileged towns and the deprived rural areas. Many African leaders recognised the seriousness of these problems, and most governments announced a commitment to rural development soon after achieving independence.

The Zambian general elections held on 18 November 1996 to elect a president and parliament are of more than merely national interest. Even before the elections took place, a vocal opposition already doubted their genuineness, and these claims have found considerable international sympathy. The Zambian government and those who voted them into power for a second term, however, consider these elections a hallmark of the success of the reintroduction of multi-partyism, which Zambia was one of the first, and one of the most successful, to reintroduce in Africa. These elections, therefore, provide a case in which to analyse a triangular interaction which is common in Africa: the interaction between an incumbent political group, an opposition which does not accept the victory of the former, and the international community. This article aims to offer a theoretical perspective on the way in which these three groups of actors intermesh; but, in order to ground these more theoretical concerns in an understanding of the empirical realities, an attempt is made first to capture the essence of the conflicts involved.

This article presents peasant grievances on the flawed 2000 elections in Hadiya zone, southern Ethiopia. For the first time in Ethiopia's electoral history, an opposition party managed to win the majority of the votes in one administrative zone. In the run-up to the elections, government cadres and officials intimidated and harassed candidates and members from the opposition Hadiya National Democratic Organisation (HNDO). Several candidates and members were arrested and political campaigning was restricted. On election day, widespread attempts at rigging the election took place, and violence was exerted in several places by government cadres and the police. Despite the government's attempt to curtail and control the elections in Hadiya, the opposition party mobilised the people in a popular protest to challenge the government party's political hegemony – and won. If this is an indication of a permanent shift of power relations in Hadiya, it is however, too early to say.

This article aims to rekindle the debate on the politics of aid in the increasingly common – yet still under-studied – authoritarian and low-intensity conflict settings, detailing the case of Ethiopia in 2016, when a 50-year drought coincided with a wave of protests and a state of emergency. During four months of qualitative fieldwork in 2017, state, civil society, Ethiopian and international actors were approached – from humanitarian headquarters to communities in the Amhara, Oromiya and Somali regions. Research participants relayed stark discrepancies between the humanitarian theatre's ‘frontstage’, where disaster responders showcase an exemplary response, and its ‘backstage’, where they remove their frontstage masks and reflect on the information, the decision-making monopoly of the state and the intrusion of conflict dynamics into the humanitarian response. In humanitarian research and in policy, a collective conversation is necessary on where to draw the line between respect for governments’ sovereignty and the intrusion of humanitarian principles.

This article discusses the relationship of missionaries and anthropologists in South Africa. Due to such important factors as ethnicity, linguistic group membership, denominationalism, and party political affiliation, it is essential to present historical perspectives on these and related matters. The vocation of missionary is almost exclusively a white enterprise as is that of professional anthropologist. Blacks have however had significant influences in both realms and are today entering these vocations.

Both Eritreans and Ethiopians have been trying to sway international opinion about one of the most ticklish questions of modern nationalism which seems to defy rational analysis. This study attempts to present their contending views, and to find an interpretative framework for understanding this continuing conflict in the Horn of 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.

In April 1974, 74 Malawian migrant labourers returning from work in South Africa died in a plane crash in Francistown, Botswana. Immediately, Dr Hastings Kamuzu Banda, the then [Life] President of Malawi, banned all labour recruiting activities in his country. Miners on holiday were not allowed to go back to their jobs, and those under contract with the Witwatersrand Native Labour Association (WNLA), known as Wenela, were to be repatriated — a decision that cost the South African mining industry some R7 million during the next two years. Thereafter, Dr Banda frequently boasted that ‘I have killed Wenela’, as for example on two public occasions in 1983: I have killed two recruiting agencies, the Witwatersrand Native Labour Association, Wenela, in short, and the Rhodesian Native Labour Bureau, or Mthandii… They no longer recruit in Malawi. They have surrendered all their buildings to the government…, because the majority of the people have responded to my appeal to stay here and work in their gardens or on the estates.

The 3 August 2005 military coup was Mauritania's best opportunity to turn the page on decades of the deposed quasi-military regime's destructive politics. This article critically analyses relevant aspects of the transition that ensued in the context of the prevailing models of military withdrawal from politics in Africa. It also examines the challenges that Mauritania's short-lived Third Republic faced. It argues that the transition process did not escape the well-known African military junta leader's proclivity to manipulate transitions to fulfil suddenly awakened self-seeking political ambitions, in violation of solemn promises. While there was no old-fashioned ballot stuffing to decide electoral outcomes, Mauritania's junta leader and his lieutenants spared no effort to keep the military very much involved in politics, and to perpetuate a strong sense of entitlement to political power. Originally designed as an ingenious ‘delayed self-succession’ of sorts, in the end, another coup aborted Mauritania's democratisation process and threw its institutions in a tailspin. This only exacerbated the challenges that have saddled Mauritania's political system and society for decades – unhealthy civil-military relations, a dismal ‘human rights deficit’, terrorism, and a neo-patrimonial, disastrously mismanaged economy.

Smallholders now grow most of Malawi's main export crop – burley tobacco. Based on nineteen months' fieldwork in the Central Region, this article offers a sociological interpretation of why some smallholder growers spend a proportion of burley income on conspicuous consumption in rural towns and trading centres. This practice can be seen as a form of inculcated behaviour whereby smallholders reproduce elements of one model of success in this region: that of the Malawian tobacco bwana (boss/master). The article discusses implications from this form of potlatch behaviour by describing the contrasting fortunes of two non-farm rural enterprises, examining data on how tobacco production and ‘cooling off’ is viewed by wives, and comparing the crop preferences of husbands and wives. It concludes by suggesting that the concept of conspicuous consumption may provide an alternative prism to the instrumental lens of neo-patrimonialism through which to view apparently unintelligible investment decisions in African economies.

Two conventions tend to shape appraisals of the Belgian Congo and the manner of its decolonisation. The first describes the colonial power structure as an alliance of state, church, and large corporations.1 This trinity was ‘not only… a virtually seamless web’, writes Crawford Young, ‘but each component, in its area of activity, was without peer in Africa in the magnitude of its impact’.2 The second convention typically portrays decolonisation as tumultuous, chaotic, bungled, or simply ‘gone awry’.3 Indeed, the mutiny and secession movements that followed hard upon the proclamation in June 1960 of the Republic of the Congo (renamed Zaïre in October 1971) resulted in the rapid internationalisation of responses to them, thereby demonstrating the fragility of domestic political arrangements.