Since programmes of government lending to African businessmen are widely relied upon as a means of stimulating economic development, some analysis of their efficacy is clearly needed. Peter Marris's article ‘Lending Money’ made an interesting contribution along these lines;1 but it was undermined by a fundamental flaw in his delineation of the problem. The present article has two fundamental purposes. First, it presents what the writer believes to be a more adequate analysis of the basic predicament of lending agencies in Africa. Secondly, it attempts to show that the nature of the problem calls for changes in the usual approaches not only to (a) lending programmes, but also to (b) the family of programmes to aid indigenous business (of which loans schemes are one member), and beyond that to (c) the still broader issue of policies to accelerate the growth of the directly productive sectors of the economy.

There are a wide variety of relationships binding together the states of the modern international community. They are all, to a greater or lesser extent, dependent upon the exchange of various kinds of resources between themselves. These resources include merchandise goods, capital, technology, labour and information. Such exchanges imply a certain amount of reciprocal influence.

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.

The first third of the 1960's was marked by growing concern over the inadequacies of the international economic system and a series of ambitious initiatives for its reform. The Kennedy Round of negotiations conducted through G.A.T.T. (General Agreement on Trade and Tariffs) was launched with the avowed aim of ending protective tariffs and related obstacles to world trade. Almost all governments, central banks, and international monetary organisations supported—in one form or another—international liquidity reform in order to break the artificial dependence of trade expansion on gold mining and on United States and United Kingdom payments deficits, and to replace these variables by a managed system, based on an international reserve unit. Both the World Bank and the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (O.E.C.D.) argued the case for expanded, longer- period, development assistance on easier terms and with fewer ties to purchase the exports of lender or donor countries. Spokesmen not only of developing but also of industrial economies appeared to endorse this line of argument. Regional economic integration among developing economies moved out of the realm of academic speculation and vague speeches and into the category of political-economic programmes for early implementation.

THE case for taking a careful look at educational expenditure in African countries rests simply on its size, in relation to government expenditure as a whole and to national income. As Table I (overleaf) shows, most African governments devote a considerably higher proportion of their total spending to education than does, for instance, the British Government.

In less-developed countries generally, and Africa in particular, centralised forms of political and economic organisation were until recently the norm. But over the past 15 years, this form of government has come under attack, and excessive centralisation is now viewed as a primary contributor to prevailing high levels of inefficiency and ineffectiveness. Various forms of decentralisation – the shifting of responsibilities and resources from central to sub-national units and actors – have been proposed as the necessary corrective mechanisms. Algeria, Kenya, the Sudan, Tanzania, Tunisia, and Zambia have been among the African countries which have implemented programmes aimed at strengthening the personnel, finances, and freedom of manoeuvre of non-central agencies and governments.

Solutions to old problems are sometimes found in new paradigms and models which provide alternative means of approach and analysis. It is suggested here that South Africa's socio-economic and political problems, stemming from the country's multi-ethnic structure, may be viewed within a conceptual framework that emphasises the spatial dimensions of the associated conflict. A model suitable for understanding this will stress the many disparities and tensions between the white core élites and those black counter-élites – including the leaders in the Homelands – who are emerging from the subdominant peripheral groups. Moreover, an analysis of the interaction between core and periphery will highlight the transformation necessary to reduce and resolve the conflict between whites and blacks in the South African spatial system and so promote their more equitable development?

For most organisations, a tenth anniversary session is a time for dwelling on the significance of past achievements while resolutely insisting that the best is yet to come in terms of new initiatives. The United Nations Economic Commission for Africa (E.C.A.) proved to be no exception when it met in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, during late January and early February 1969. Yet, behind the formal façade of celebration, one sensed an anxious attempt to overstate the results of past efforts in order to enlist support for a dynamic future which seems highly improbable. Because E.C.A. as an institution faces a serious crisis of confidence, its secretariat and its supporters seemed to seize on the tenth anniversary celebrations almost as if this were the last chance to change radically the Commission's role and image in the eyes of both Africa and the world. Indeed, the 1969 Commission session marked the culmination of an attempt by Robert K. A. Gardiner – the Commission's able Executive Secretary – and his associates to reverse the downward trend of E.C.A.'s influence and prestige since those halcyon early days of 1958–9 when Africans had such great hopes for their Commission.

With the demise of the Soviet Union and the fall of many authoritarian régimes, some observers suggest that we are in the midst of what can be called a worldwide democratic revolution. Although questions remain as to the durability of these changes, particularly in Africa, it is clear that we are at a cross-roads. Nations are considering what kinds of political institutions they want to replace those they are trying to dismantle. What, at this historical moment, is the special appeal of democracy in the non-Western world? Is it the promise of individual freedom? or popular elections designed to give all citizens a say in who governs? or the prospect of guaranteed individual and group rights?

The wealth of ethno-linguistic units in Nigeria has been the object of anthropological, linguistic, historical, and political study since the country was first so named at the beginning of this century. But since independence in 1960, the federal motto of ‘Unity in Diversity’ has raised a central principle of language use which has been gradually articulated in successive constitutions and white papers on national policy in the educational and cultural spheres.

The term ‘parastatal’ is used rather loosely in Zambia, being often applied to a wide range of bodies such as boards, corporations, and companies that operate in the state-dominated sector of the economy. It is unfortunate that there has not been greater consistency in official usage, but these organisations have grown up over the years in different forms to meet felt needs and not according to a preconceived plan. The vagaries in terminology also reflect a degree of uncertainty in government policy on how the public sector should be ordered, as well as a piecemeal approach in its interventions in the economy since independence. However, in recent years the nomenclature has received greater attention out of a recognition that the parastatals loom rather large in the economy, often being more prominent than government departments and more visible than the private sector.

This article has pointed out the increasing importance of the arms trade in the contemporary international system, and has reviewed critically the essential scholarly works devoted to this topic. Arguing that most of the existing literature is either descriptive or only very partially explanatory, I have suggested a set of five requirements for a satisfactory understanding. Following an analysis of the relationships between these ideal criteria and segments of the theoretically oriented literature, I have outlined an original, though preliminary, model for a systematic analysis of arms supply as an international political phenomenon

This article considers the diplomatic strategies of African states within an evolving United Nations Conference on Trade and Development (UNCTAD). It proposes that the prominence of certain ideas about economic development rises and falls not so much as a result of the nature of the ideas themselves, but as a result of opportunities made and unmade by the world economy. The world economy in turn changes the work mandates of international economic organisations like UNCTAD. The trajectory of African diplomatic strategies is important because it calls into question recent literature in international relations theory focusing almost exclusively on the experiences of industrialised states. In the case of African ideas in UNCTAD, underlying variables associated with the world economy destroyed the remnants of the Group of 77 coalition which had served as an agent for African representatives in UNCTAD. African diplomats have tried to realise whatever objectives they can in the changed circumstances without necessarily changing their ideas about development.

The Liberian civil war was the major issue in US–Guinea relations between 1990 and 2003. During the first half of this period, the US sought with limited success to secure Guinea's cooperation in finding a diplomatic solution. President Conté viewed Charles Taylor as Guinea's implacable enemy and authorised arms support for anti-Taylor factions, while the US pressed for a negotiated peace. The Guinean leader's negative reaction to US criticism of the flawed 1993 presidential elections halted most dialogue on Liberia for the next two years. When Taylor continued supporting civil war in Sierra Leone after 1997, and fighters allied to him assaulted Guinea border posts in 1999, the US strengthened its engagement with Guinea. Providing military training and non-lethal equipment, it sought to counter the threat that Guinea would succumb to the destabilisation which had afflicted Liberia and Sierra Leone. The US appears positioned to play a positive role in Guinea's political and economic transition after the departure from the scene of the seriously ill Guinean president.

Although Liberia is the oldest African republic, its economy is still young and growing. The road of independence has been uphill, lonely, and difficult. During Liberia's early decades of independence, the British and French were antagonistic towards what they considered a threat to their colonial ambitions as well as a refutation of the assumption that the black African was incapable of self-government. Across the Atlantic, Liberia's unofficial mother country, the United States, was still in the isolationist period of its history; its gestures of friendship were few and cautious. Nor did Liberia have easy-term foreign aid programmes to provide quick remedies for financial crises. Pleas for aid fell upon the cars of unsympathetic bankers. For the first 80 years or more, each of Liberia's several loans was used to repay the last. The battle was for survival, leaving little opportunity for development.

The great strength, durability, and versatility of steel has undoubtedly caused this engineering material to become, almost literally, an essential foundation of present-day civilisation.1 Indeed, it is sometimes used as one of the indices of measuring the economic advancement of nations because of its widespread direct and indirect application. The commercial importance and strategic significance of steel has been recognised in Nigeria for many years, and this has prompted successive Governments to initiate various plans designed to create a metallurgical industry. As the country continues to expand its manufacturing output, as well as to produce more oil and to refine more petroleum, so the demand for the precious metal will go on increasing tremendously.2 The creation of an iron-and-steel complex by means of a combined investment of over 5,000 million is clearly Nigeria's biggest industrial undertaking and emphasises its resolve to attain greater self-reliance.3

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.

A full decade of African administration by Africans has gone by. It will soon be time to examine their achievements and to formulate and explore a number of new questions. What was Africanisation all about? Was it anything more than a localisation of personnel? Have Whitehall attitudes been replaced by Nigerian or Tanzanian, or even African attitudes? Has a newly shaped philosophy of public administration emerged?

Scholars have very little information on inter-regional economic relations within African countries. This article focuses on patterns of inter-regional and socio-ethnic group migration and business relations in Nigeria,1 with special reference to entrepreneurs who make or deal in footwear. The material presented refers only to the two-year period prior to the coup d'état of January 1966.