Migrant labour from external sources has been exploited by South Africa during the past century for obvious economic reasons: it is cheap, easily available, and largely controllable. Short-run fluctuations may arise for a variety of reasons, but in the long run, as W. G. Martin has attempted to demonstrate, demand patterns for foreign migrant workers, particularly on the mines, have generally reflected prevailing economic conditions.1. Events over the past decade or so have, however, made it difficult to distinguish between the effects of economic and political influences which have so dramatically altered the face of migration in Southern Africa.

Most of the world's developing nations are primarily rural and agricultural. Therefore, governments have tended to place a policy emphasis on development in those sectors, usually as a result of employing the relatively straightforward argument that they should focus on the needs of the largest proportion of the inhabitants. The movement of population is generally seen in the light of rural–urban migration, although there is some evidence and opinion that this is not per se as massive as usually estimated. In addition, Rakesh Mohan has developed an economic model that suggests a close linkage between the success of rural development policies and an expansion in urbanisation, based on the assumption that the former increase both demand for and awareness of urban goods and services, resulting in a greater propensity for people to move to those places where these resources are most readily availabe. Thus, the more it has to turn its attention to the urban consequences.

Since African states began to obtain their political independence almost three decades ago, drought has exacerbated critical problems of social equality. In domestic politics, élites have used their control over food aid to enhance their power vis-à-vis those suffering from declines in agricultural production. Two scholars recently concluded that ‘food-relief programmes…have helped to widen the gap between rich and poor in virtually every country in which they operate’. Internationally, the industrialised states have taken advantage of drought to impose policy directions on affected African states. Often the general public has had to bear the brunt of changes in, for example, the prices of consumer goods and wages.

In February 1967, Tanzania, formed from the union of Tanganyika and Zanzibar, declared its intention to purpue a policy of ‘socialism’ and self-reliance. In the famous Arusha Declaration, the Tanganyika African National Union called for the Government to exercise control over the means of production and move away from over-reliance on foreign assistance in development. It stressed the need to strengthen agriculture and thereby improve the lives of the majority of the population which earned their livelihood in this sector. Finally, T.A.N.U. called for changes in the party to ensure that it contained only committed socialists. Closely linked to this was a leadership code for senior officals in ministries and parastatals which prohibited them from owing stock or holding directorships in private corporations. Renting out house was also declared impermissible.

Afrikaner nationalism has been analysed from broadly-speaking two perspectives. In the main, the literature has focused on the evolution of a movement rooted in a common history, language, and religion,1 and has traced the roots of a nation-in-the-making back 300 years in South African history,2 before the inevitable flowering of Afrikanerdom in the twentieth century. In contrast to the growth of European nationalism which is linked to the rise of the bourgeoisie, studies of Afrikaner nationalism have tended to neglect the class dimension by emphasising ideology as a unifying force and organising principle. An alternative approach has been attempted by Dan O'Meara who locates Afrikaner nationalism within the dynamic of capitalist development in South Africa, explaining its ideology in terms of its class character, and although his study often lacks subtlety, it stresses factors that have been neglected by the more usual idealist accounts.3

The post-colonial evolution of the Tanzanian economy has been strongly influenced by public policy, notably since the adoption of the Arusha Declaration in 1967,1 which established the following guidelines:

1. Self-reliance, albeit not self-sufficiency or autarky, since, at least in theory, selected foreign assistance may be the catalyst rather than the basis of development.

2. General social equality, aimed at regional, inter-personal, and rural—urban equity.

3. Socialist and co-operative economic activities, emphasising priority for rural development per se, with a bias towards co-operative work through communal ujamaa villages.

4. Public ownership and control of the ‘commanding heights’ of the economy.

Of all the serious problems facing the present rulers of Ethiopia none has proved to be more elusive or challenging than the question of nationalities. Since the 1974 revolution there has been a proliferation of liberation movements calling for either regional autonomy or outright secession from Ethiopia. Although the Somalis and the Eritreans have long sought to break away from Ethiopia and have waged an armed struggle for many years, the Afar, Oromo, and Tigrean movements are recent developments which manifested themselves openly after the overthrow of Haile Sellassie. Their discontent with the weakened central Government, which they saw as insensitive to their needs, had long been brewing, and now threatens the viability of Africa's oldest state.

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.

Any writing that purports to address African reality today must take as its starting point the international economy. Small states, which are both economically and politically weak, have very little room for manoeuvre within the global system, even at the best of times. The present international depression has circumscribed their freedom of action even further. Still, African states must do something. They must seek to address existing conditions. If the last two decades have made anything clear, it must be that the rest of the world is not going to rescue Africa from its plight. Only Africa itself can do that. However limited they may be, there are always choices to be made.

This author made her first study of the Muslim brotherhoods in 1966, and then ten years later reassessed their political position.1 Now, after almost a similar length of time since 1976, this brief evaluation is written in the hope of illustrating the gradually changing position of Muslim leaders or marabouts, and their rôle in Senegalese life and politics.

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.

Namibia is distinctive in Africa for at least three significant reasons. First of all, it remains the continent's last colony in defiance of world opinion and the United Nations. Secondly, it has experienced Africa's longest armed liberation struggle apart from South Africa, with no end yet in sight. Thirdly, and most importantly, that conflict is not being waged against some distant metropolitan power, but Namibia's dominant and pariah neighbour. Just as this geographical contiguity has facilitated South African attempts to retain control over Namibia, it seems certain to impose severe constraints on the scope for pursuing independent policies once Namibian sovereignty is finally achieved.

Liberalism in South Africa has had a history of importence because of its failure to adhere consistently to the belief that when the ‘loss of liberty for non-whites’ occurs, it ‘inevitably meant [the] loss of liberty for whites as well’. Instead, the predominantly English-speaking South Africans who backed this movement have attempted to promote liberal ideals while maintaining their white prerogatives, and have subsequently found the two to be ‘incompatible’.1 As a result, neither the uncompromising Afrikaner Nationalists nor the demanding Africans and revolutionaries have supported liberalism, and those South Africans in the middle have been discouraged by its vacillating nature. The National Union of South African Students is an example of a liberal organisation's inability to solve this dilemma. Initially Nusas concentrated on academic needs, following a ‘students as such’ policy, and then later transformed its ideals into a ‘students in society’ view, becoming socially active in defiance of the Nationalist Government.2

Thirty years ago, Sir Godfrey Huggins retired as Prime Minister of the Federation of Rhodesia and Nyasaland. The Queen raised him to the peerage as Viscount Malvern of Rhodesia and of Bexley in the county of Kent – his choice of title characteristically giving expression first of all to his old public school, then his country of adoption, and finally his birthplace in England. Great universities showered him with honorary doctorates and, quite surprisingly, David Low, the most distinguished of Labour political artists, creator of the archetypal figure Colonel Blimp, published a cartoon that showed Huggins proudly stepping into the pages of history, together with Sir Robert Walpole and Mackenzie King, the only English-speaking Prime Ministers to have shared his political longevity.

Population movements across the African continent form a major theme in African history, having usually occurred in response to natural diasters or pressures from a neighbouring community. Today, political and ecological forces still produce massive migrations, albeit with a new dimension: their growing concentration in urban areas.