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.

In recent years, many developing countries have undergone rapid and extensive socio-economic changes which generally have brought with them an increase in criminality. This is a trend which continues to cause grave concern. Indeed, the United Nations General Assembly in Resolution 35/171 of 15 December 1980 noted the significant increase in crime and recognised that this impairs the overall development of nations, undermines people's spiritual and material well-being, compromises human dignity, and creates a climate of fear and violence that erodes the quality of life. The response to criminality therefore becomes of the utmost importance and, indeed, the political and economic stability of any society can be seriously affected if the government is seen as being incapable of dealing with the problem.

In many respects the subject of industrial decentralisation is both a mirror and focal point of issues that predominate in South African Society at large. From its origins in the early 1960s, the state's strategy in this field has been an implement apartheird. Despite a conthinunously changing institutional and spatial framework,2 the policy remains grounded in the attempt to maintain the geographic separation of blacks and whites, by reinforcing control over the influx of the former into the metropolitan areas, and by bolstering the economic political structures of the Homelands.

Artisanal and small-scale mining (ASM) plays a significant socio-economic role in the alleviation of poverty. In Ghana, the increase in and persistence of illegal ASM (galamsey) can be explained by unemployment, cumbersome and costly registration, lack of land, corruption and Chinese engagement. Traditionally, Ghanaian governments have neglected to address ASM activities by means of policy, while publicly emphasizing its negative impacts. In 2017, the media campaign #StopGalamsey became a culmination of this process. This study represents a qualitative content analysis of #StopGalamsey media discourses. It aims to understand how galamsey was framed in the media during the first two years of the campaign. Based on an analysis of 176 articles from the Daily Graphic newspaper, four dominant frames were identified – environmental menace, criminal activity, complex menace and corruption and collusion. Galamsey was portrayed in an overwhelmingly negative way, miners were dehumanised and criminalised, conflicting perspectives marginalised, and non-traditional perception emphasised via Chinese engagement.

This article highlights the importance of studying the politics of time in the copper and cobalt mining sector of south-eastern Democratic Republic of Congo, where a tense coexistence can be observed between artisanal and small-scale mining (ASM) and large-scale mining (LSM). It is argued that inequality in ASM-LSM settings not only manifests itself spatially but also temporally. Faced with an uncertain future, ASM and LSM actors do not have the same capacity to control time and plan their futures. Drawing on data from several rounds of ethnographic fieldwork in Katanga's mining areas between 2005 and 2022, the article advocates an approach which pays more attention to issues of time and temporality in places where large-scale forms of mineral extraction clash with small-scale ones.

Mozambique has undergone some dramatic changes in recent years. The government concluded a 17-year-old civil war in 1992 and held democratic elections in 1994. Following the adoption of structural adjustment policies after 1987, the government eliminated subsidies on food and consumer items, pledged its support for emerging markets, and has now sold most state companies to private investors. These changes have generated much interest among researchers and policymakers, particularly with regard to their impact on the countryside, where the majority of Mozambicans live and work. Recent studies have focused on the most appropriate rural development strategy for Mozambique now that the war has ended, or examined ways to alleviate the widespread poverty that still exists in rural areas. Other work has analysed the structure of agrarian relations or how to ensure food security. Additional research has criticised the government's on-going policy of encouraging and granting land concessions to private investors. It claims that the policy lacks transparency and fails to consider the rights of local communities.

This article examines the impact of the pandemic on ride-hailing drivers and their mitigation strategies during lockdown in Africa. Ride-hailing has emerged as one of the latest paid-work opportunities for the continent's many unemployed. Yet, ride-hailing companies such as Uber and Bolt misclassify drivers to avoid regulation and responsibilities towards workers’ welfare. Drawing on 34 in-depth interviews with ride-hailing drivers, driver representatives and trade unions in South Africa and Kenya, this article makes two arguments. First, the gig economy in Africa provides work opportunities for the unemployed on the continent and simultaneously vitiates the working conditions through the commodification and informalisation of work. Second, the state-directed emergency measures act as a veneer to capital's efforts to commodify labour and the gig economy platforms have emerged as primary tools for it. Our account points to an urgent need for better regulatory systems to hold platform companies accountable and a collective bargaining mechanism in the gig economy.

The primary purpose of this article is to survey the political history of the Union Defence Force (U.D.F.) and the South African Defence Force (S.A.D.F.) – the former term applying to the Union and the latter to the Republic of South Africa – from 1914 until 1979, in such a manner that other scholars can undertake comparative research on African armies in general and those in Southern Africa in particular. Although the focus is on one geographical area, namely, South-West Africa or Namibia, for a 65-year time span, this need not constrain other analysts in their choice of location or duration. A secondary purpose is to include the additional element of international organisations, specifically, the League of Nations and the United Nations, because hopefully this will enrich the comparative utility of the research design. The principal organising device of the enquiry is that of the differing rôles of the military unit, an approach which has been utilised in the literature concerning armed forces in non-western areas.1

Southern Africa has been at war since the 1960s. Following the capitulation of Ian Smith's Rhodesian Front and the acceptance of majority rule in Zimbabwe in 1980, the widely acknowledged root of most of the regional conflict has been South Africa. In defending apartheid, the régime in Pretoria engaged in a systematic campaign of destabilisation designed to bring its neighbours to heel. Military invasions, raids, sabotage, support of dissident groups, and assassinations were all part of the National Party (NP) Government's ‘total strategy’ that employed violence as a key element in its regional policy to achieve economic, military, and political hegemony. P. W. Botha during his tenure as Prime Minister and President, 1978–89, ‘politically modified the role’ of the South African Defence Force (SADF), as explained by Herbert Howe, and ‘created the military-dominated State Security Council, which effectively replaced the Cabinet and became the centre of national decision-making and official power in the 1980s’.1 The result was the militarisation of South African society and a swath of destruction across the southern part of the continent.

This article discusses some of the issues involved in the choice of technology in developing countries, especially those in Africa, and the relationship of this to employment and output. The problem is to find an optimum combination of productive resources that comes nearest to satisfying two objectives: the full and economically efficient utilisation of such resources, and the creation of as much surplus as possible over current consumption, thereby making possible new investment and long-term growth.

The year 1989 will in future generations be known as the annus mirabilis, not only as far as developments in Eastern Europe are concerned, but also within the context of South African politics. The September general elections for the tricameral Parliament marked a turning point in the direction of governmental policies. Nowhere has the changing mood been more clearly demonstrated than in the streets of the cities and towns. A countrywide spate of protest marches has occurred since the historic first government-approved peaceful anti-apartheid march in Cape Town on 13 September 1989, and these have become the most visible symptom of the advance to the so-called ‘new South Africa’.

The majority opinion of those who have contributed to the literature on conversion in sub-Saharan Africa suggests that Islam has been more ‘successful’ than Christianity in attracting the faithful. The standard inventory of explanations for this state of affairs include the following: first, it has been commonly noted, Islam has proved to be more compatible than Christianity with indigenous customs, cosmology, and morality. A second point that has been argued with some consistency (though evidencing not a small measure of ethno-centric bias) is that ‘it is easier for the African to govern himself by the few rules set forth by Mohammedanism…than…by the all-embracing stringent laws of Christianity’. A third, more encompassing stance, implies that conversion to Islam can be accounted for sociologically, ‘while the acceptance of Christianity involves the recognition of divine truth’, in which case a similar line of analysis is uncalled for. Thus, according to William Arens, a thorough review of the voluminous literature indicates that there is an ‘ideological flavour’ in much of what is accepted as objective and authoritative material on this topic, and that a more balanced understanding of the facts could be realised if greater attention was given to the study of the social context of evangelical Christianity in Black Africa.

The ostensible purpose of intelligence collection and activity is the preservation of national security. A careful examination of what has been published in this field in recent years has convinced me that all African régimes and liberation movements have established some form of secret state-security apparatus, in many cases with considerable external assistance. As for foreign intelligence services, such as America's C.I.A., Russia's K.G.B., and Israel's Mossad, they have proved to be effective major mechanisms for influencing the internal affairs of African nations.

Last year, Thandika Mkandawire (2002) published an article in the Journal of Modern African Studies proposing ‘an explanation of the violence against the peasantry’ in Africa, referring to people in rural areas who have suffered so much in recent wars across the continent. The article starts by categorising suggestions made by some other authors as to why combatants have used ‘extremely brutal and spiteful forms of violence’ in such a disturbing number of cases. In the opening section of his paper, Mkandawire takes exception to suggestions I have made concerning the antecedents of the 1990s civil war in Liberia, describing my views as ‘essentialist’ and ‘poorly veiled racist’, and alleging that I believe ‘there is something fundamentally wrong with African culture’ (2002: 183).

The rise of Islamism following the Arab Spring has renewed interest in the democratic credibility of Islamist parties and movements. Focusing on the case of Mauritania's Islamists this article analyses the validity of the moderation hypothesis and argues that for some Islamist parties, moderation, when historically situated, has always been a key trait. The case of Mauritanian Islamism is interesting because it takes place within an intellectual and geographical place that straddles both the Arab world and sub-Saharan Africa, therefore providing insights on how Islamism has become an influential ideological framework in both worlds, that are much less separate than superficially believed.

This paper aims to contribute to debates about humanitarian governance and insecurity in post-conflict situations. It takes the case of South Sudan to explore the relations between humanitarian agencies, the international community, and local authorities, and the ways international and local forms of power become interrelated and contested, and to what effect. The paper is based on eight months of ethnographic research in various locations in South Sudan between 2011 and 2013, in which experiences with and approaches to insecurity among humanitarian aid actors were studied. The research found that many security threats can be understood in relation to the everyday practices of negotiating and maintaining humanitarian access. Perceiving this insecurity as violation or abuse of a moral and practical humanitarianism neglects how humanitarian aid in practice was embedded in broader state building processes. This paper posits instead that much insecurity for humanitarian actors is a symptom of the blurring of international and local forms of power, and this mediates the development of a humanitarian protectorate.

While conducting research on the occupational and educational aspirations and expectations of secondary-school students in Kenya during 1972, I obtained quantitative and qualitative data from a sample of 699 African students indicating that the problem of crime among unemployed school leavers is likely to substantially worsen in the coming years. The purpose of this article is to present that data within the context of a discussion of secondary education, unemployment, and crime in Kenya.

In May 1989 the National Commission for the Study of National Unity appointed by President Pierre Buyoya issued its eagerly awaited report, ostensibly designed to find a lasting solution to the bloody confrontations that have repeatedly pitted Hutu against Tutsi. For the first time in the history of independent Burundi an official statement has been made public which explicitly recognises the centrality of the Hutu-Tutsi problem, and sets forth specific solutions to resolve it. As such this is a document of historic significance, and the sum of its recommendations must be seen as an important breakthrough towards national reconciliation.

The erudition of the late W. E. B. DuBois was never more prophetic than in 1903 when he issued his famous dictum that ‘The problem of the 20th century is the problem of the color-line – the relation of the darker to the lighter race of men in Asia and Africa, in America and the islands of the sea.’ The United States of America, for its remarkable technological achievement and democratic example, despite decades of difficulty in race relations; and the Republic of South Africa, for its unique violation of human rights: each represents in its own special way both the best and the worst in human history, and are fitting testaments to DuBois's clairvoyance.

This paper explores tensions over scale and viability in irrigated agricultural development in Tanzania. A revival of ambition to transform African agriculture has reawakened debate over what type of agriculture can best deliver increased production and poverty reduction for rural populations. This paper examines these debates through the lens of an ethnographic study of an irrigated rice farm in Tanzania. With a chequered history of state and donor intervention management, Dakawa, Rice Farm in Mvomero District is now collectively farmed by a cooperative society of ‘small farmers’. It is widely hailed as a success, both of irrigation production, and of ‘small farmers’ in delivering this. However, such narratives of smallness and success obscure a more complex reality in which smallness of scale may be more of a discursive tool than a reflection of empirical reality. Although notions of ‘viability’ and ‘success’ in such development interventions are themselves also contested and depend on perspective, there is evidence that there are fundamental problems of both short- and long-term viability.