UNESCO - The Decolonization of Africa

The general history of Africa: studies and documents 5
In this series:
1. The peopling of ancient Egypt and the deciphering of Meroitic script
2. The African slave trade from thefifteenthto the nineteenth century
3. Historical relations across the Indian Ocean
4. The historiography of southern Africa
5. The decolonization of Africa: southern Africa and the Horn of Africa
The decolonization
of Africa:
southern Africa and
the Horn of Africa
Working documents and report of the meeting
of experts held in Warsaw, Poland,
from 9 to 13 October 1978
T h e Unesco Press
Published in 1981 by the United Nations
Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization
7 place de Fontenoy, 75700 Paris
Printed by Imprimerie Tardy Quercy, Cahors
ISBN 92-3-101834-5
French edition: 92-3-201834-9
© Unesco 1981
Printed in France
Preface
In 1964 the General Conference of Unesco, as part of the Organization's

effort to further the mutual understanding of peoples and nations, authorized
the Director-General to take the necessary measures for the preparation and
publication of a General History of Africa.
Scientific colloquia and symposia on related themes were organized as
part of the preparatory work. T h e papers prepared for discussion and the
exchanges of views on a wide variety of subjects at these meetings have
provided valuable historical material, which Unesco has n o w decided to
m a k e k n o w n as widely as possible by publishing it in a series entitled 'The
General History of Africa: Studies and Documents'.
The present book, the fifth in the n e w series, contains the papers
presented and a report on the discussions that followed at a symposium held
in W a r s a w , from 9 to 13 October 1978, on the decolonization of southern
Africa and the H o r n of Africa.
The authors are responsible for the choice and the presentation of the
facts contained in this book, and for the opinions expressed therein, which
are not necessarily those of Unesco and do not commit the Organization.
The designations employed and the presentation of material
throughout the publication do not imply the expression of any opinion
whatsoever on the part of Unesco concerning the legal status of any country,
territory, city or area or of its authorities, or concerning the delimitation of
its frontiers or boundaries.
Contents
Introduction 9
Part I: Decolonization in southern Africa

Independent African states and the struggle for southern Africa,
Ali A. Mazrui 13
The role of liberation movements in the struggle for southern Africa,
1955-77, Elleck K. Mashingaidze 24
The position of South Africa, E. L. Ntloedibe 32
The challenges confronting South Africa, Edmond Jouve 42
Zimbabwe: the Internal Settlement in historical perspective,
David Chanaiwa 65
Part II: The decolonization of the Horn of Africa
Decolonization in the Horn and the outcome of Somali aspirations
for self-determination, Said Yusuf Abdi 97
The survival of the national culture in Somalia during and after the
colonial era, B. W. Andrzejewski 108
Decolonization of Ethiopia, 1940-55, Richard Pankhurst 119
Neo-colonialism or decolonization? Hagos Gebre Yesus 133
Part HI: Report of the meeting of experts
Inaugural session 141

General discussion 143
Southern Africa 147
The Horn of Africa 152
Appendices
1. Speech by the representative of the Director-General
of Unesco 159
2. List of participants 162
3. Agenda 164
Introduction
The International Scientific Committee for the Drafting of a General History

of Africa proposed during its fourth plenary session, held at Nairobi in April
1978, that a meeting of experts be held to consider the problems of
decolonization in two regions of Africa where the situation seemed
particularly intricate. T h e purpose of such a meeting would be to give
information and guidance to the editor of Volume VIII of the General
History of Africa and to the International Scientific Committee with a view to
finalizing the table of contents and the substance of the volume Africa since
1935.
T h e Polish National Commission for Unesco responded to the proposal
of the International Scientific Committee and offered to undertake
preparatory work for the meeting, in collaboration with the University of
Warsaw and the Unesco Secretariat. The International Scientific Committee
expresses its deep gratitude to the Polish National Commission and the
University of Warsaw for their co-operation in the organization of this
meeting.
The first part of this volume includes working documents prepared for
the meeting, especially on the decolonization of southern Africa. The paper
by Ali A . Mazrui, editor of V o l u m e VIII of the General History of Africa,
provided the point of departure for discussions on this theme. The role of the
liberation movements in the struggle for southern Africa is the subject of
Elleck K . Mashingaidze's paper, and the legal status of the Union of South
Africa since the passing of the South Africa Act of 1909 by the British
Parliament is analysed by E . L . Ntloedibe, w h o is a m e m b e r of the Central
Committee of the Pan-African Congress.
The communication by E d m o n d Jouve is concerned particularly with
the attitudes of international organizations and of foreign powers towards
South Africa, and David Chainawa in his contribution throws new light on
the history of Z i m b a b w e .
The second part of this volume brings together working documents on
the problem of the decolonization of the H o r n of Africa. Said Yusuf Abdi
retraces the history of Somalia since the European colonial conquest, and
B . W . Andrzejewski shows h o w Somali culture has been preserved since the
colonial era thanks to the work of poets, playwrights and collectors of oral
literature. T h e communication by Richard Pankhurst sketches the history of
the decolonization of Ethiopia from 1940 to 1955. Finally Hagos G . Yesus,
analysing the relation between neo-colonialism and decolonization, warns
against a decolonization that will in fact be merely disguised neo-colonialism:
'The spectable of this second edition of the scramble for Africa is there to see
for all w h o have eyes. But then there is also the spectre of resistance and
revolution, which haunts them all.'
In the third part of this volume is to be found the report of discussions
that took place at the experts' meeting.
Parti
Decolonization
in southern Africa
Independent African states
and the struggle
for southern Africa
Ali A . Mazrui
The importance of the support that independent African states have given to
the liberation movements in southern Africa has often been underestimated.
Purely in terms of financial contributions, or indeed in terms of military and
paramilitary assistance, the role of independent African states m a y at first
appear relatively modest. But the repercussions of that support have been
wide-ranging and have provided m u c h of the necessary diplomatic legitimacy
that the liberation movements have increasingly acquired.
Vincent B . Khapoya once analysed nine forms of support that African
states extended to liberation movements. 1 These were, first, provision of
asylum to politically active exiles; second, provision of field offices for the
liberation movement; third, provision of facilities for military and militarily
oriented activities of the movements; fourth, irregular payment of assessed
dues to the Organization of African Unity's liberation committee; fifth,
regular payment of assessed dues to the O A U committee; sixth, initiation or
participation in efforts to unify liberation movements from the same
country—such as attempts to unify the Z i m b a b w e African Peoples Union
with the Z i m b a b w e African National Union, or the attempt to unify the three
movements in Angola before independence; seventh, opposition by African
states to dialogue with South Africa; eighth, serving as host to non-political
refugees from target areas; and ninth, provision of additional aid to
movements in terms of cash, medical supplies, educational facilities and the
like.
Khapoya underestimated the broader diplomatic support at the United
Nations and in world politics, a form of support that has continued on the one
hand to erode the legitimacy of white-minority rule in southern Africa and on
the other to increase the legitimacy of those w h o have taken up arms against
white rule.
It is almost certain that without international African support the
United Kingdom might have been tempted m u c h sooner to reach some kind
of understanding with Ian Smith in Rhodesia. Without broad African
diplomatic solidarity on these issues, the United States might also have found
it more opportune to safeguard the status quo in southern Africa. A n d
14 Ali A. Mazrui
without broad African international pressure, France would have continued

to deal and trade in military hardware with South Africa, and the United
Nations would not have found the political will to pass an arms embargo arms
against South Africa in 1977.
Racial sovereignty and continental jurisdiction

But what do African states have in c o m m o n in their attitudes to the problems
of southern Africa? A n d in what ways do those attitudes differ in degrees
from one African state to another?
It would of course be naïve to conclude that African states are united in
support of liberation in southern Africa because they are united in valuing
h u m a n rights. M a n y of the states that are very strong in supporting liberation
in southern Africa, ranging from A m i n ' s U g a n d a to Sékou Touré's Guinea,
are guilty of gross violations of h u m a n rights in their o w n societies.
It would be almost as naive to assert that African states are committed
to the principle of majority rule, if by that w e m e a n a system of government
that allows the majority of the people periodically to choose their o w n rulers
in free elections. Again, almost none of the African states that are committed
to liberation in southern Africa approach their o w n internal societies in a
spirit of democratic dedication to majority rule.
W h a t the African states are committed to are in fact two principles that
are disguised in different vocabularies but are in effect the following
imperatives. T h efirstis the principle of racial sovereignty. This does involve
a concept of majority rule, but not in a liberal sense of periodic elections that
seek to discover the will of the majority. Under the principle of racial
sovereignty, the people in a given society should not be dominated by a
racially alien minority. T h e rulers of each society should as far as possible be
racially or ethnically representative. Foreign rule is not merely rule by a
nation-state from abroad, but could be rule by a foreign racial or ethnic
minority. White rule in southern Africa is illegitimate partly because it
violates the principle of racial sovereignty.
T h e second important principle operating in African attitudes to
problems of southern Africa is the principle of continental jurisdiction. This
is a kind of African M o n r o e Doctrine, seeking to keep outsiders from
interfering in African affairs and aspiring to consolidate the autonomy not
only of individual African states but of the African continent as a whole.
Primary initiatives in African affairs under the principle of continental
jurisdiction have to c o m e from Africans themselves first and foremost.
Motivated by relative concern for both racial sovereignty and
continental jurisdiction, African states and movements have attempted to
Independent African states 15
and the struggle for southern Africa
realize two forms of pan-Africanism, especially in the second half of the

twentieth century. These two forms of solidarity have been, first,
pan-Africanism of liberation and, second, pan-Africanism of integration.
Pan-Africanism of liberation seeks to reduce alien control over African
affairs, whereas pan-Africanism of integration seeks to encourage Africans
to form larger economic communities or wider political federations.
Pan-Africanism of liberation is partly concerned with keeping outside powers
at bay, whereas pan-Africanism of integration seeks to bring Africans
themselves together.
O n balance so far in the twentieth century, pan-Africanism of
liberation has been significantly more successful than pan-Africanism of
integration. O n e African country after another has succeeded in at least
ending political colonialism and establishing at least formal sovereignty. A
number of other African states have pushed their economic liberation even
further ahead. A n d the struggles to endfirstPortuguese rule in Africa, and
more recently other forms of white minority domination in southern Africa,
have k n o w n their m o m e n t s of triumph.
Pan-Africanism of integration, on the other hand, has had one failure
after another. These have ranged from the breakup of established
federations, like the collapse of the Mali Federation in 1960, to the collapse
in 1977 of the East African Community, which had once linked Kenya,
U g a n d a and the United Republic of Tanzania in an elaborately
institutionalized form of regional co-operation.
In short, Africans in the second hald of the twentieth century have
been far more capable of uniting in order to keep colonialism at bay than of
uniting in order to bring each other closer together.
In southern Africa the two forms of pan-Africanism have sometimes
pulled in different directions. For example, the Federation of Rhodesia and
Nyasaland while it lasted seemed, on the one hand, to be a possible basis of
pan-Africanism of integration in the future once white control was ended;
and yet since white control was indeed already omnipresent, pan-African
solidarity was aroused more in the effort to end that white control than in the
effort to preserve a unification of three colonial territories.
In a related sense, South Africa might have served the long-term aims
of pan-Africanism of integration by absorbing and incorporating South West
Africa (Namibia) into the body politic of the republic. But since the republic
itself was under white racist rule, the absorption of Namibia would have
resulted in the expansion and consolidation of apartheid.
O n the other hand, apartheid itself in its doctrine of homelands aspires
to break u p the republic into cultural segments, beginning with the
independence of the Transkei in 1976. This doctrine of separate black
'homelands' runs counter to pan-Africanism of both liberation and integra-
16 Ali A. Mazrui
tion. It compromises the freedom of the homeland territories and of their

citizens working in white-dominated South Africa itself; and it also attempts
to cause serious fragmentation a m o n g blacks just at the time w h e n prospects
for black solidarity in South Africa itself are brighter than they have ever
been in history.
A s for the front-line states (Mozambique, Botswana, Zambia, Angola
and the United Republic of Tanzania), they have definitely provided a major
infrastructure for pan-Africanism of liberation. In their involvement in
pursuit of that goal, some of them have also experienced the beginnings of
regional integration. T h e rail link between Tanzanian territory and Zambia,
partly conceived for reasons of liberation, has become part of the foundation
of greater economic and social intercourse between these two countries. T h e
closure of the border between Rhodesia and Zambia, while weakening
the integration between those two countries, initiated integration with
Zambia's northern neighbours.
Relations between the Tanzanians and Mozambique, which in the
modern period entered a n e w phase as Mozambique struggled for liberation
from Portuguese rule, have become the basis of greater potential intercourse
between the two countries in the years ahead. S o m e analysts are even
speculating that M o z a m b i q u e and Zambia might one day be more closely
integrated with the United Republic of Tanzania than the latter was in its first
fifteen years of indépendance with Kenya.
W h a t all this means is that the participation of African states in the
liberation of southern Africa has included repercussions for those African
states themselves and h o w they relate to each other, over and above the
fortunes of liberation per se.
But African states vary considerably in their commitment to the
struggle for southern Africa, in spite of what w e have observed concerning
their readiness to subscribe to the principles of racial sovereignty and
continental jurisdiction. C o m m i t m e n t to those principles is inevitably a
matter of degree. H o w far a particular African state is prepared to go in the
shared endeavour of liberating southern Africa is conditioned by a variety of
factors, some of which are peculiar or unique to the particular African state
in question.
W h a t are the determinants of the degree of support that African states
give to the struggle for southern Africa? It is to these that w e must n o w turn.
Distance, values and personality

Five important factors condition the support an African state gives to a
liberation movement. T h e first is physical distance from the target areas in
southern Africa. Certainly contiguity to southern Africa helped to define the
front-line states. But contiguity was only one of the elements that determined
the political activism of front-line states, for 'front line' is in fact a
geopolitical term. Until the Portuguese coup the most important contiguous
countries to white-ruled southern Africa as it then was were Zambia and the
United Republic of Tanzania. Khapoya's measurements of support ranked
these two countries high.
Since the collapse of the Portuguese empire following the coup in
Lisbon in April 1974, two other relatively radical countries have become
critically involved in the liberation of the remaining areas. These are
M o z a m b i q u e , which has become the base of the most important military
wing of the Zimbabwean fighters, and Angola, which is becoming
increasingly critical in the struggle for the liberation of Namibia.
But physical distance is only one form of distance. There is also cultural
distance, especially as defined in terms of different colonial heritages. This is
the problem of geocultural distance. Khapoya, in his assessment of
performance before the Portuguese coup, found that the worst twelve
African countries in terms of support for liberation movements were almost
wholly French-speaking. This situation has basically continued since the
Portuguese coup. Francophone Africa on the whole tends to be less
committed to pan-Africanism of liberation than English-speaking Africa.
In the case of Portuguese-speaking Africa, there is a combination of
physical nearness to the rest of southern Africa, on the one hand, combined
with cultural distance at least between the élite groups, though not
necessarily a m o n g the masses with their indigenous cultural connections.
Three out of the five front-line states are English-speaking (Zambia,
Botswana and the United Republic of Tanzania). All the remaining areas to
be liberated from white control are almost bound to become part of
English-speaking Black Africa w h e n the blacks resume power. These are
Z i m b a b w e , Namibia (though for the time being English is internally
overshadowed by Afrikaans and G e r m a n ) and South Africa itself. Less
involved in activist liberation politics is Malawi, which is also English-speak-
ing.
Then there is the cultural distance between Arab Africa and Black
Africa. In this case physical and cultural distances seem to reinforce each
other. A n d yet, paradoxically, the support that Arab states have extended to
liberation in southern Africa has on the whole been well above average.
There is a particularly high performance by Algeria and Egypt. In the case of
Algeria, support has basically been next only to that of the front-line states.
A n d no Arab country so far falls within the bottom 25 per cent of states
involved in the politics of liberation.
Then there is the ideological distance to be taken into account,
between the supporting state and the liberation movement as a whole.
18 Ali A. Mazrui
Guinea, though francophone, scores higher than such anglophone countries

as Kenya and Sierra Leone.
O n balance, governments that are left of centre in ideological
orientation in Africa m a y be presumed to be m o r e committed to the struggle
for liberation, at least in terms of rhetorical and diplomatic agitation in one
international forum after another.
Related to this is the degree of nationalism in the total ideological
orientation of a given African regime. Here it is worth distinguishing
between combative nationalism and supportive nationalism. Combative
nationalism exhibits a readiness to engage directly in the struggle for patriotic
aims and objectives, and exhibits faith in hard solutions and less reliance on
compromise. Supportive African nationalism, on the other hand, leaves
the basicfightingto others, and m a y even let the decision to fight be m a d e
primarily by others, although it m a y exhibit enough identification with the
fighters to lend them moral and sometimes material support. Combative
nationalism is a war-cry of militant engagement; supportive nationalism is a
form of ululation a m o n g the fans on the sidelines. Combative nationalism
very often needs warriors in defence of the fatherland; supportive
nationalism needs cheer-leaders to help the morale of the warriors.
African commitment to liberation in southern Africa ranges from the
relatively w e a k and sometimes ambivalent supportive nationalism of the
Ivory Coast, on the one hand, to the increasingly combative nationalism of
Zambia on the issue of Rhodesia, on the other hand. The point of ideological
distance which an African state occupies in the spectrum of nationalism helps
to colour its concrete policies o n southern Africa.
T h efifthconditioning factor is the personality of the African individual
in control of a particular state. T h e relatively collaborationist policies of
Hastings K a m u z u Banda of Malawi over the years have been partly due to
geopolitical factors concerned with Malawi's vulnerable nearness to
white-controlled Africa; partly due also to Malawi's economic weakness,
which for quite a while m a d e it even rely on access of its workers to the mines
of South Africa; and partly due to the personality of K a m u z u Banda and his
idiosyncracies.
A n even clearer case of personality as a factor in policy concerns Idi
A m i n D a d a of Uganda. W h e n he assumed power in 1971 he quickly
proclaimed his belief in dialogue between black states and the Republic of
South Africa as an approach towards solving the problems of southern
Africa. But well before he became the chairman of the Organization of
African Unity in 1975 he had become a militant nationalist on the issue of
liberation in southern Africa, at least in terms of rhetoric and diplomatic
agitation. T h e change in policy at the time it first occurred in 1972 was
primarily the outcome of Idi A m i n ' s o w n impulses. But the maintenance of
the policy since then has been due to other factors, including Amin's
enjoyment of his reputation as one of the militant voices of anti-imperialism
emanating from the Third World.
T h e personality of Félix Houphouet-Boigny of the Ivory Coast has also
played a part in shaping his policies on southern Africa. H e sees himself as
the voice of moderation, compromise and enlightened pragmatism in African
affairs. This self-conception has contributed to his faith in the strategy of
dialogue and détente between the black states and the Republic of South
Africa.
But some people might inquire h o w m u c h of the Ivory Coast's policy is
in fact less a case of the preferences of its leader and more a response to the
influence of France. This brings us to the whole p h e n o m e n o n of derivative
relations between black states and the struggle for southern Africa. It is to
these that w e must n o w turn.
Southern Africa and derivative relations

Derivative relations are those that are conditioned by considerations not
directly concerned with the issue of liberation itself. For example, does the
amount of aid an independent African country receives from the Western
world affect the country's relations with liberation movements in southern
Africa? In fact the correlation between Western aid and support for
liberation is quite weak. There is very little difference between Zambia and
Malawi in volume of aid received from the West in the last ten years, and yet
Zambia has been one of the major centres of commitment to liberation,
whereas Malawi has often tended to collaborate with the white-minority
regimes.
O n the other hand, does the amount of aid an African country receives
from the Soviet Union affect its relations with liberation movements? There
is indeed a positive correlation between high support from the Soviet Union
for an African state and high support by that state for liberation movements
in southern Africa. A n d yet this correlation m a y itself be due to a prior
congruence of ideological dispositions. In other words, what m a d e the
country increase its contacts with the Soviet Union m a y be the same prior
ideological consideration that m a d e the same country support liberation
movements in southern Africa.
All these are exogenous derivative relations, meaning that they are
relations partly derived from or affected by African links with external
powers. But an external country m a y derive its o w n African policy from a
relationship with a third area of the world. A striking illustration of this is
China's African policy, which is basically a derivative of China's policy
20 Ali A. Mazrui
towards the Soviet Union. This was particularly true in the 1970s, w h e n the
Chinese tended to respond to Soviet initiatives in Africa, choosing friends on
the basis of opposition to the Soviet Union. W h a t this means is that
exogenous relations of this kind are basically extracontinental from Africa's
point of view.
W h a t about intracontinental derivative relations? These do indeed
exist. Sometimes they are quite subtle. For example, in 1976 and 1977
Kenya's policies on Z i m b a b w e were from time to time affected by Kenya's
relations with the Tanzanians. Impatience with them, or envy of the United
Republic of Tanzania as a front-line state, sometimes reduced the enthusiasm
of at least sections of the Kenyan Government for the liberation cause in
southern Africa.
Arab support for southern Africa is also partly derivative, although on
the whole the derivation is both intracontinental in the sense of being
concerned with African issues and extracontinental in the sense of being
linked to the Arab-Israeli conflict. T h e Arabs have needed African
diplomatic support in the global attempt to isolate Israel. They have needed
African voting power in international organizations as part of the strategy of
gaining greater legitimacy for the Palestinian cause.
S o m e of the more radical Arab states would have sided with the black
struggle in southern Africa in any case. But on balance a relationship of quid
pro quo has evolved between the Arab need for support against Israel and
the need of the African states for support against white rule in southern
Africa.
Both intracontinental and extracontinental relations have their contra-
dictions. It is to some of these that w e n o w turn.
Dialectical relations: regional and global

Dialectical relations arise partly out of the tension between the legacy of
imperialism that still exists within the newly independent states and the
aspirations for total autonomy that are held by the leaders in those states.
A particularly striking anomaly concerns Mozambique. There is little
doubt that M o z a m b i q u e under its n e w Marxist-Leninist government since
independence is committed to liberation in southern Africa, and indeed in
the rest of the African continent. A n d yet Mozambique's revolutionary
commitment coincides with the country's high absorption into South Africa's
economy. T h e government receives support in gold and m o n e y as its share of
the exploitation of its o w n workers w h o go to mine in South Africa.
M o z a m b i q u e provided a base for the fighting forces of the Patriotic
Front for the liberation of Z i m b a b w e . Yet the same revolutionary
Mozambique has to play a cautious game with the more racist regime of
Pretoria.
It is this dialectic between dependency and revolution, between the
continuities of imperialism and the quest for social justice, that constitutes
the most agonizing paradox of almost all the front-line states. Mozambique's
predicament is certainly repeated, though in a somewhat different manner, in
Botswana. Even Zambia, as it struggled to reduce its dependence on
Rhodesia after Ian Smith's unilateral declaration of independence, has
increased its economic and to some extent infrastructural dependency on the
Republic of South Africa.
Angola chose a different form of dependency, which w e shall discuss
later. But even the Tanzanian Government, precisely as it has become more
important in the final stages of the struggle for the liberation of southern
Africa, has at the same time embarked on partial deradicalization at h o m e .
T h e revolutionary fervour of the late 1960s is beginning to waver, and a n e w
groping for Western support in the economic field is under w a y . T h e
dialectical relations between dependency and liberation are almost as
omnipresent in D a r es Salaam as they are in Maputo.
A s for dialectical relations at the global level, these encompass the
superpowers themselves. Competitive imperialism between the Soviet Union
and the United States helped to provide liberating potentialities for southern
Africa after the collapse of the Portuguese empire. O n the whole, the Soviet
Union is as m u c h an imperial power as the United States. But the fact that
the superpowers have entered a period of rivalry in southern Africa has
opened up opportunities which those w h o are oppressed m a y sometimes
succeed in exploiting.
The first major scramble for Africa occurred in the wake of the Berlin
Conference of 1884-85. T h e second major scramble for Africa was
precipitated by the coup in Portugal in April 1974 and its aftermath. The last
of the great European empires of old, the Portuguese one, collapsed. A n e w
opportunity opened up in Angola. The United States was paralysed by the
aftermath of Viet N a m and Watergate, and could not have had congres-
sional agreement to a policy of intervention in Angola. The Soviet Union saw
its chance and m o v e d in with the Cubans to help Angolan Marxists capture
the country.
But the success of that venture by the Soviet Union, Cuba and the
M P L A created a n e w climate in southern Africa, and a sense of urgency
among the Western countries to try to bring about a solution to
southern African problems before Marxism triumphed elsewhere. Competi-
tive imperialism was indeed facilitating the general struggle in the continent.
The West was learning about the need for racial justice as a result of the
challenge posed by the Soviet Union and Cuba. Even Western support for
22 Ali A. Mazrui
the United Nations embargo on sale of arms to South Africa, ambivalent as it

is and uncertain as it might well b e , would nevertheless have been
inconceivable before the collapse of the Portuguese empire and the triumph
of the Popular M o v e m e n t for the Liberation of Angola.
Cuba's o w n role in Africa has contradictory implications. O n the one
side, C u b a is indeed a revolutionary paradigm, a special model for m u c h of
the Third World. C u b a signifies the success of a small country that managed
to transform itself in spite of the hostility and opposition of virtually all its
thirty neighbours in the Western hemisphere.
A n d yet this same island, which symbolizes revolution and liberation, is
beginning to play a subimperial role in Africa. African civil wars are being
decided in their outcome partly from Havana. Inter-Africanrivalriesin
southern Africa and in the H o r n are being partly resolved by C u b a n militia.
T h e island of revolution in the Caribbean is able to throw its weight around
in a continent of fragmentation, thousands of miles away.
But while Cuba's role in other parts of the African continent m a y be
dubious, its role so far in southern Africa has helped to prepare the ground
for the end of white rule generally. T h e battle is not yet over by any means.
But in the southern African equation, at any rate, the C u b a n factor is on
balance part of the calculus of liberation.
Conclusion
W e have attempted in this essay to place the role of African states in the
struggle for southern Africa in both a continental and a global context. W e
have also tried to relate the policies of independent African states to
considerations that range from geopolitics to culture, from ideological
impulses to the attributes of personality.
T h e impact of independent black states, especially as reinforced by the
support of the A r a b states within the continent, has been critical in creating a
global climate hostile to white-minority rule in the continent and responsive
to the clarion call for racial justice and self-determination.
South Africa itself m a y well turn out to be the last historical case of
institutionalized racism that mankind is ever to experience. Other forms of
discrimination will persist for a long time to c o m e . So will racism in some of
its other manifestations. But the idea of teaching children in separate racial
schools, forcing adults to use racially separated compartments on buses and
trains, or forbidding adults from marrying across racial lines, or structuring
electorates on the basis of segregated voting power—all these older forms of
institutionalized racism m a y well be experiencing their last-ditch stand in
South Africa.
Related to this development is the high consensus the international

community has managed to reach against white-minority rule in southern
Africa. This could be one of thefirstmajor contributions of non-Western and
non-white countries to international morality and international law as a
whole. There was a time w h e n racism was acceptable to international law
because that body of law was derived ultimately from Western values and
orientations. There was also a time w h e n the apartheid policies of South
Africa were accepted throughout the Western world as strictly a case of
internal jurisdiction within South Africa. But the alliance of African states,
supported by other Third World countries, has gradually forced even the
m o r e conservative Western capitals to regard racism in South Africa not
simply as immoral in a private sense, but as a matter of legitimate
international action. T o withhold arms from South Africa was itself a form of
action. T h e world had m o v e d one step forward towards the ideal of
abolishing at least the more blatant and institutionalized forms of racism.
In this struggle to gain world consensus for the eradication of these
forms of racism, the part played by independent African states has been
central and quite indispensable. Theirs had to be part of the initiative for
change, theirs had to be the persistent voice of protest against the status quo,
theirs had to be the nucleus of agitation.
T h e struggle continues, but prospects for ultimate victory have been
greatly enhanced in the last few years. The Second World W a r weakened the
European imperial powers and helped to speed up the independence of the
formally colonized. T h e Viet N a m war weakened the United States, and
helped to reduce its capacity to maintain the status quo in southern Africa.
But while these wars weakened the imperial forces, the ultimate will for
liberation had to c o m e from the colonized themselves. T h e struggle in
southern Africa n o w is from bush to bush, village to village. A n d w h e n South
Africa itself falls under the challenge of revolutionary forces, the struggle will
be from street to street, alley to alley.
T h e struggle at that stage has of course to be mainly conducted by black
South Africans themselves. But the role of African states will continue to be
critical, bringing to culmination a long-drawn-out groping for both racial
sovereignty and continental jurisdiction.
Note
1. Vincent B . Khapoya, 'Determinants of African Support for African Liberation Movements:

A Comparative Analysis', Journal of African Studies, Vol. 3, N o . 4, Winter 1976,
pp. 469-89.
The role of liberation
movements in the struggle
for southern Africa, 1955-77
Elleck K . Mashingaidze
Perhaps a universally acceptable definition of southern Africa is not possible.

Recently the area has been defined so as to include South Africa, Lesotho,
Swaziland, Namibia (South West Africa), Botswana, Angola, Zaire,
Zambia, Malawi, M o z a m b i q u e and Z i m b a b w e . 1 T h e inclusion of the United
Republic of Tanzania within the southern African region has also been
justified by that country's key role in the current liberation efforts in the
area.2 Whatever our definition, it must be admitted that the concept of a
southern Africa cannot be static. For the purpose of this paper the above
definition(s) will be adopted.
This vast region was occupied by the United Kingdom, Portugal,
Belgium and G e r m a n y , whose white settlers colonized and reduced African
states, large and small, to subjection for centuries. T h e objectives and the
impact of colonial rule in the region differed of course from one country to
another, depending on the colonizers and on the response of the colonized.
Whatever the differences in the impact and objectives, however, one fact
remains: colonialism was established to serve and promote the colonizer's
interests at the expense of those of the subject peoples. Colonial government
structures, laws and economic institutions were carefully and deliberately
designed to exploit h u m a n and natural resources in the respective colonial
possessions; for example, in South Africa, Rhodesia, Namibia and Angola
land was expropriated from the Africans, w h o were forced to live in the
crowded and impoverished areas generally k n o w n as reserves.3 In these
countries large-scale expropriation of land from the Africans led to the
creation of a landless class compelled to go to the mines, white settlers' farms
and white-owned factories in urban centres in search of unskilled work. T h e
exploitation of this cheap or semi-slave labour was a prerequisite of white
capitalist prosperity in the region. T h e exploitation of black labour begun
during British rule in South Africa has n o w reached perfection under the
present regime, Racial discrimination against the black majority, the
Bantustan system, the migrant-labour system and institutionalized police
brutality against the oppressed black people form the important pillars of
Afrikaner colonialism.
The role of liberation movements 25
in the struggle for southern Africa
African nationalism a n d decolonization
B y the middle of the 1960s, the situation had changed tremendously in most
countries of the region. B y 1968, with the exception of South Africa,
Rhodesia, Namibia, Angola and Mozambique, the area had been decoloniz-
ed and brought under national governments. T h e first to establish a
nation-state was Congo-Kinshasa, n o w Zaire, in 1960, followed in 1961 by
Tanganyika. With the final collapse of the white-minority-dominated
Federation of Rhodesia and Nyasaland in 1963, Malawi and Zambia also
became independent, in 1963 and 1964 respectively. T h e year 1966 saw two
former British possessions, Bechuanaland and Basutoland, taking their
rightful positions as the sovereign states of Botswana and Lesotho
respectively, and 1968 brought Swaziland's independence.
Behind this impressive record of decolonization was the force of
African nationalism in the various areas. O f course, the emergence and
growth of African nationalism were both directly related to white-settler
colonialism and capitalist exploitation of the black people. Political and
cultural oppression by the colonizers and economic exploitation by both local
and international capital had their impact upon the African populations.
There was, for example, widespread poverty and a general deterioration in
the standard of living of the Africans, especially in the urban and industrial
areas. A s a result there was widespread discontent a m o n g the oppressed.
African discontent was m a d e even more acute by the knowledge on their part
that it was their sweat, and sometimes even blood, that ensured high
standards of living a m o n g the settlers. The Africans began to complain about
the w a y they were treated by their oppressors and exploiters.
African nationalism as w e k n o w it today is therefore inseparable from
black awareness or consciousness. T h e African people began to feel that they
were oppressed and exploited simply because of their skin colour. African
nationalism began to manifest and express itself in a variety of ways. For
example, through black labourers demanding that they should be treated as
h u m a n beings and that they should be properly recognized as workers by
their employers and exploiters; or even through black evangelists and
Christians demanding that they should be equal with white missionaries and
Christians; or through ordinary villagers in the remote areas demanding that
their colonial administrators should listen to their opinions on h o w the
Africans should be ruled. Eventually this opposition to the colonial system
and all its structures became more articulate and eloquently voiced through
such organizations as labour associations, independent African church
organizations, cultural associations and sometimes loosely organized political
groups. All these are the true forerunners of nationalist political movements
as they later developed in the various countries of southern Africa.4 T h e
26 Elleck K. Mashingaidze
more the colonial authorities tried to stop the African nationalist ferment by
strong-arm tactics, the m o r e widespread and the better organized African
nationalist parties became.
Although African nationalism succeeded in decolonizing Zaire, the
United Republic of Tanzania, Malawi, Zambia, Lesotho, Botswana and
Swaziland, it was successfully halted in other countries of the region: South
Africa, Namibia, Angola, Z i m b a b w e (Rhodesia) and Mozambique. T h e
white minority governments of these countries were determined to fight for
the survival of the type of colonialism they represented. In a way, it can be
argued that these countries presented different types of colonialism from that
which had existed in other parts of the region. For example, since the United
Kingdom abandoned the interests of the black peoples of South Africa in
1910, there has developed in that country a kind of internal colonialism in
which the colonizers (the white minority) live in the same country (and
claim to belong to it) as the colonized (the black majority).5 While few
people would question the white people's claim to be South Africans, m a n y
would certainly not agree that this entitles them to subject the black people
to economic exploitation and political and cultural oppression. T h e white
minority have created boundaries within the same state between areas
occupied by black people and areas occupied by them. T h e former areas are
subjected to perpetual under-development while the latter are fully
developed by the use of black labour. The Africans are oppressed politically
and culturally.
The Rhodesian case is somewhat similar to that of South Africa. A
form of internal colonialism could be said to exist there. With British
encouragement and tacit approval, the white settlers have, since 1923, been
assumed the position and the practices of internal colonizers. They have done
everything possible to frustrate any peaceful development of a non-racial
community or society in Z i m b a b w e . A s a result, black and white have been
developing into two nations within one state.6 T h e white nation, as in South
Africa, is colonizing, oppressing and exploiting the black 'nation'.
T h e case of Angola and M o z a m b i q u e is different. In these countries,
the colonizing power, Portugal, had not the slightest intention of quitting its
colonies. It continued to oppress and exploit its African subjects while
promoting its myth of multi-racialism or 'Lusotropical civilization' according
to which Portugal was said to have no colonies, but provinces, in Africa.
Accordingly, Portuguese nationals in Angola and Mozambique were not
regarded as colonists but as Portuguese citizens living in Portugal's provinces
overseas.
Fearful of the changes taking place elsewhere in Africa, the settler
minorities in South Africa, Namibia, Z i m b a b w e , Angola and Mozambique
prepared themselves not to sail with the current but to resist it. Their
governments became even most racist. For example, in a desperate bid to

prevent or stop the inevitable change in Z i m b a b w e , the white-minority
regime of Rhodesia illegally declared the country's independence in
N o v e m b e r 1965. W h e n , in 1966, South Africa was called upon by the United
Nations General Assembly to hand over Namibia to the international
organization so that the people of Namibia could be independent, not only
did South Africa defy the order, it also went ahead with the annexation of the
country.
Another sign of desperation and nervousness on the part of the racist
oppressors was the development of military co-operation between the South
African, Rhodesian, Mozambican and Angolan white regions, as well as the
increase of institutionalized police brutality and violence against the
oppressed African peoples in these countries.
Liberation movements
T h e African nationalist movements soon realized that the South African,
Rhodesian and Portuguese governments had decided to set their faces firmly
against democratic and peaceful change in South Africa, Rhodesia, Angola
and Mozambique. It was also clear to African nationalist parties in the
respective countries that the white minority regimes were perfecting their
police and military machineries to crush with brutality any opposition to the
status quo. Clearly the task of bringing about political change in the five
countries was beyond the abilities of simple African nationalism and the
organizations this force had inspired. M o r e important still, the people
involved were rapidly and increasingly convinced that 'normal political
pressure and agitation' would never change the oppressors' stance.7
For the foresighted in the nationalist circles, it had also become clear in
the early 1960s that because of the height and the involved nature of the
stakes in these countries, simple decolonization was not the answer. W h a t
was needed in South Africa, Rhodesia, Angola, Namibia and M o z a m b i q u e
was total liberation. While decolonization had been achieved in other
countries of the region by African nationalist parties, total liberation would
require entirely different political organizations, equipped with a completely
n e w ideology from nationalism. T h e n e w organizations were the liberation
movements which, by the end of the 1960s, were by far the most important
forces in the struggles for Angola, Mozambique, Z i m b a b w e , Namibia and
South Africa. In most cases the liberation movements were transformations
of the old nationalist organizations in the respective countries, where the
objective material conditions obtaining m a d e this transformation inevitable.
In strictly historical terms, therefore, it is an anachronism to talk about
the role of liberation movements in the southern African struggle before the
1960s, perhaps the mid-1960s. W e would also submit that it is equally
misleading to refer to the dramatic political changes taking place in such

countries as Zaire, the United Republic of Tanzania, Malawi, Zambia,
Lesotho, Botswana and Swaziland in the 1960s, as total liberation. A
distinction should be m a d e between nationalist organizations and liberation
movements. The processes which these two types of forces of change created
in the region, though closely related, should also be distinguished in our
analysis. African nationalism, the dominant force from the end of the Second
World W a r to the mid-1960s, brought about the process of decolonization.
The liberation struggle, the dominant factor from the 1960s on, sought and
still seeks to bring about m o r e than mere decolonization. T h e liberation
struggle's objective is total liberation.
The activities of African nationalist parties compelled colonial
governments to grant political independence to the peoples of Zaire, the
United Republic of Tanzania, Malawi, Zambia, Lesotho, Botswana and
Swaziland. This process of decolonization brought with it changes: the
formation of national governments under indigenous presidents or kings,
new constitutions, flags, national anthems, sometimes improvement in
people's conditions of living and more opportunities for education. It must be
admitted, however, that such changes and improvements have, in most cases,
not been followed or accompanied by a total transformation of society, its
values, social structures, institutions and, of course, production relation-
ships. O n e of the very few exceptions, however, is the T A N U of the United
Republic of Tanzania, which m a d e efforts, even after independence, to
transform itself from a mere nationalist organization to a revolutionary party
determined to introduce revolutionary changes in Tanzanian economic life
and social organization. Most independent African countries m a d e very little
effort, if any, to change the political, social and economic systems and
structures which were inherited from the colonial past. In production
relations, for example, the worker is still subordinate to the capitalist
organization which extracts and accumulates surplus value at his expense.
The relationships with former colonial masters continue to be characterized
by economic dependence, which often tends to deprive African states of their
right to develop and follow their o w n independent foreign policies and
positions in crucial international debates and questions.
W h a t about the changes brought about by liberation movements? B y
the 1960s, colonial regimes in Angola, Mozambique, Z i m b a b w e (Rhodesia),
Namibia and South Africa realized they were no longer dealing with the old
nationalist organizations, in spite of the names which, in some cases, had not
changed. The South African A N C and the P A C , the Namibian S W A P O , the
Angolan M P L A , the Mozambican F R E L I M O and Zimbabwe's Z A N U and
Z A P U had been transformed into liberation movements and were
determined to lead their respective countries to independence through a
different path from the one followed by the nationalist movements already
mentioned. T o appreciate why the liberation movements chose a different
path it must be realized that, although historically related to the nationalist
organizations, they differed from nationalist parties in that they were
products of revolutionary material, which was behind the transformation
from mere nationalism to the present liberation movements. 8
The southern African liberation movements are characterized by the
following features: (a) they are, without exception, uncompromisingly
anti-imperialist and anti-capitalist; (b) they are guided by clearly defined and
articulated emancipatory ideological positions, seeking to bring about a
complete break with the colonial political, economic and social systems and
structures; (c) they are mass movements whose efforts and policies are
deliberately designed to involve all sections of society, especially the working
people and the peasantry, w h o are rightly regarded as potential revolutionary
material in the liberation processes; (d) scientific socialism has been accepted
as the guiding philosophy by all liberation movements in southern Africa; (e)
a protracted armed struggle has been fully accepted as an important and
necessary instrument of revolutionary change. For this reason, each
liberation m o v e m e n t recruited a military wing variously k n o w n as 'the
liberation army', 'the revolutionary army', 'the people's liberation force
or army', etc., whose cadres were, and are, also missionaries of
revolutionary ideology and change. 9 The freedom fighters, as the military
cadres are also k n o w n , were and are expected to be new m e n and w o m e n
guided by high moral and revolutionary principles. A n d , as M u b a k o observes
in relation to the Zimbabwean liberation movement(s), on account of their
special training and field experience, fighters in the people's forces also
provide the radicalizing influence that 'sets the ideological standards for the
parties, and the older generation of politicians will promote or destroy their
political career to the extent to which they measure up to or fall short of those
standards.'10
N o w , not only have the liberation movements accepted armed struggle
as the only realistic method of bringing about genuine political change and
total national liberation, they have also convincingly demonstrated its
effectiveness, w h e n F R E L I M O and M P L A smashed Portuguese imperialism
and colonialism after m a n y years of war. For Z A N U and Z A P U in
Z i m b a b w e , and for S W A P O and the A N C and P A C in Namibia and South
Africa, therefore, it is no longer a theory that national liberation can be w o n
on the battlefield, and against any colonial force no matter how brutal and
h o w well equipped it m a y be. Thus, led by their vanguard parties, the
oppressed and exploited subject peoples of Z i m b a b w e , Namibia and South
Africa are more determined to smash white settlerism and end the white-
minority governments of Salisbury and Pretoria. They are also determined to
establish peoples' democracies in the place of these outdated political

systems.
The emergence and development of liberation movements—and
especially the victories of the Mozambican and Angolan socialist parties in
1974 and 1975 respectively—shook imperialism to its roots. By the mid-1970s
the activities of F R E L I M O , M P L A , Z A N U and S W A P O in particular, were
rapidly making the southern Africa region a zone of both military and
ideological conflicts. The stakes were becoming very high, and they were also
assuming wider dimensions. T h e fall of Portuguese colonialism in M o z a m -
bique and Angola, and the subsequent unequivocal acceptance of socialism
by the Mozambicans and the Angolans led to the intensification of Western
capitalist involvement both indirectly and directly to protect their interests.11
A n d , in an effort to safeguard their socialist gains and victories, the
Mozambicans and Angolans were also compelled to appeal for assistance
from fellow socialist and progressive allies, including the U S S R and Cuba.
The liberation movements of Namibia, Z i m b a b w e and South Africa also
became increasingly dependent on socialist countries for material assistance
in the prosecution of their struggles against the Salisbury and Pretoria
regimes.
B y 1977, therefore, two things had become abundantly clear to the
capitalist supporters of white-minority regimes in Z i m b a b w e , Namibia and
South Africa:first,that no military force, no matter h o w powerful, would
prevent the n o w politicized recipients of starvation wages, the politically
oppressed and the crowded inhabitants of the seriously impoverished
Bantustans, tribal trust lands and homelands of South Africa, Rhodesia and
South West Africa, from identifying themselves with the liberation cause.
The co-operation given to F R E L I M O fighters by the rural masses during the
wars with Portugal, co-operation given to M P L A by workers in Luanda, the
role played by the rural masses of Z i m b a b w e in supporting Z A N L A and
Z I P R A forces since 1972, the support given to S W A P O in Namibia, and the
Soweto uprisings (spreading to other centres) in 1976, all went to show the
irreversibility of the revolutionary tide in the region. Secondly, for the region
the question was no longer decolonization, which both the oppressed and the
oppressors were already regarding as inevitable. The question n o w was h o w
to dilute the effects of the revolution and thus ensure the perpetuation of
capitalist interests in Z i m b a b w e and in Namibia. This would in turn
guarantee South Africa's protection.
H o p e seemed to lie with what has since been referred to as Phase II of
the southern African détente, begun in 1976. Détente was frustrated by the
intensification of the liberation war in Z i m b a b w e and Namibia where the
people's forces continued to direct telling blows against the racist forces of
Rhodesia and South Africa.
Notes
1. This definition was adopted by the Organizing Committee of the International Conference
on Southern African History, National University of Lesotho, 1-8 August 1977. See
also editor's note, Mohlomi, Journal of Southern African. Historical Studies, Vol. II,
Morija Printing Works, 1978.
2. President Julius Nyerere of the United Republic of Tanzania is the chairman and spokesman
of the front-line presidents directly concerned with the liberation struggle in Zimbabwe,
Namibia and South Africa.
3. 'Native Reserves', as they existed in such white-dominated countries as Southern Rhodesia,
South Africa and South West Africa, were serving a number of purposes: e.g. to keep
African, communities in areas where they could be easily controlled; to segregate them
from the whites; to create reservoirs of unlimited cheap or semi-slave labour to serve the
white-owned farms, mines and factories.
4. T h e earliest of them was the South African National Congress, formed in 1912.
5. H . Walpole, "The Theory of Internal Colonization: The South African Case'.
6. R . Gray, Two Nations, London, Oxford University Press, 1960.
7. E . Mondlane, The Struggle for Mozambique, p. 121, Harmondsworth, Penguin, 1970.
8. S. V . M u b a k o , 'Aspects of the Zimbabwe Liberation Movement 1966-1976, Part I',
Mohlomi, Journal of Southern African Historical Studies, Vol. II.
9. E . K . Mashingaidze, 'The Southern African Political Scene from the 1960s', paper read at
the Danish Volunteer Service Seminar, Maseru, 28 June 1978. Also M u b a k o , op. cit.
10. M u b a k o , op. cit.
11. T h e West tried to assist counter-revolutionary elements in Angola in order to frustrate the
M P L A . South Africa also threw its military weight against both the M P L A and
F R E L I M O but without success. American involvement also failed.
The position of South Africa
E . L . Ntloedibe
Introduction
The political concept w e today k n o w as South Africa came into existence on

31 M a y 1910, w h e n the South Africa Act of 1909 of the British Parliament
merged into the Union of South Africa, 472,359 square miles of land and
placed administrative responsibility for it in the hands of the white coalition
government of the former colonial administrations of the Cape, Natal,
Transvaal and the Orange Free State. Each of the four white component
parts had been given 'responsible government' at different times in its
colonial history: the Cape Colony in 1872, Natal in 1893, Transvaal in 1906
and the Orange Free State in 1907.
The struggle of the African people of Azania did not start at that time,
nor was it essentially waged in opposition to that development as such. T h e
nature that the struggle took from this time onwards changed form in order
to cope with the development of the political situation but its fundamental
nature and character remained the same as of yore. W e hold that the granting
of unilateral so-called independence to a white foreign minority by British
colonialism w a s not an act of decolonization but rather a transfusion of
colonial authority which took the form of dominion status for the white
government. It was inevitable that the colonial rule concomitant with that
status should assume despotic and sectarian practices, which could not but
require continuous and consistent backing by violent armed force. It became
imperative that those despotic and sectarian practices should be
institutionalized to give them the force of respectability, legitimacy and
legality.
The dominion status of the ' n e w ' territory, in our view, was merely the
continuation or the transplantation of the old concept of sectarian
'responsible government' under n e w conditions and involved no material
change from the original relationship. T h e status only meant, in practical
terms, that the white coalition government had been allocated a share with
big British capital and given the governmental powers of a colonial authority
over as subject black population, whose social position did not change with
The position of South Africa 33
the n e w 'constitutional change'. T h e position of whites in general did not

change either from what it had been in the days of 'responsible government'.
They retained their privileged position over and against the black subject
population in order to give legitimacy to the despotic authority of the white
government and hold the responsibility of being the conscious and willing
electors of the h a n d m e n of British colonialism. It became the solemn duty of
successive white governments to respect and uphold the incentive and
extravagant bribery of white privilege for this purpose. T h e British Prime
Minister, Henry Campbell-Bannerman justified the position of the House of
C o m m o n s debate over the draft bill, which subsequently became the South
Africa Act of 1909, by pointing out that 'it was not the English w a y to rule
whites as subject peoples'.
T h e white coalition government consisted of a cabinet m a d e up of four
ministers from the C a p e , three from the Transvaal and two each from Natal
and the Orange Free State. Its colonial authority over its subject black
population was manifestly expressed in what they called 'native policy',
which is characterized by sectarian native administration, arbitrary distribu-
tion of land ownership and despotic labour practices. Native policy is a
fundamental feature of colonialism, and the present 'Bantu homelands'
policy of the racist government in South Africa is its latest version. There is
no 'native policy' in any of the independent African states, which are
themselves successors to colonial rule and this makes it patently clear that
these black governments are not colonial authorities. They have departments
of the 'interior' or ' h o m e affairs', as any other sovereign states in the world
but none of their citizens are subjected to sectarian 'native policy'. That is the
major fundamental principle of self-determination by which w e identify the
sovereignty of peoples and nation states.
It is in this light that the African people in Azania seek the re-
examination, re-adjustment and re-definition of racist South Africa's legal
international status, taking into account the principle of the national right to
self-determination in so far as it affects and relates to them. They do not
accept that they are an independent people w h o are merely discriminated
against racially or ethnically but hold that they have been arbitrarily and
militarily deprived of their land and therefore of their nationhood; deprived
of their citizenship rights by arbitrary and despotic denial of free and full
participation in the public affairs of their country, and deprived of ordinary
h u m a n rights by arbitrary imposition in that country. These activities, o n the
part of the present South African state system, conclusively, collectively,
conjunctively, contemptuously and in all other ways trample underfoot their
national right to self-determination, violate the sanctity of their national
sovereignty and the territorial integrity of their beloved fatherland. There
can be neither betrayal nor compromise on these sacred national issues. O u r
34 E. L. Ntloedibe
people cannot abandon the national destiny and capitulate to national

subjugation, n o matter what odds m a y be ranged against them. Their
national duty is to find a historical solution to the matter of national relations
in that country.
Present status
There are several interpretations of South Africa's political international

status under current use. T h e first is what w e m a y call the 'apartheid
viewpoint'. According to Chris Jooste in South African Dialogue, p p . 4-5
(Johannesburg, McGraw-Hill), the present government of the Republic of
South Africa has set itself the task of 'restoring the independence' of those
w h o lost their freedom to Great Britain and had been placed under the
Union Government as subject peoples in 1910. T h e position as understood
and defined is thus:
The Union Government was set up as a white government to rule over the former
Boer republics of the Transvaal and the Orange Free State, the Former British
colonies of the Cape of Good Hope and Natal, the Bantu territories which had been
annexed and incorporated into British South Africa, as well as the non-white peoples
domiciled in white territories, principally, the Indians and Coloureds living in Natal
and the Cape Colony respectively.
T h e second is the liberal point of view. Discussing what she calls the crux of
the race problem. D r Ellen Hellman of the South African Institute of Race
Relations points out that 'South Africa has been compared with other
colonial powers with this difference: that her colonial subjects lived within
the physical boundaries of the mother country'. She argues that
the general apparatus of colonialism, as it had developed by the 20th century, had
likewise evolved in South Africa [where] peoples of European descent ruled the
indigenous people and admitted them into white-dominated society to the extent that
they were required as low-paid workers.
Eric Walker adds to the argument in his History of Southern Africa

(Longmans, 1967), p. 538: 'The n e w Union Government was endowed
with the high but ill-defined status of a post-war British Dominion [and] took
up the task, which none but British High Commissioners had hitherto
attempted, of regulating the affairs of South Africa as a whole.'
At the international level South Africa is regarded as an 'independent
and sovereign state'. Clearly what is meant here is the international standing
of the white government of the country. T h e Universal Declaration of
H u m a n Rights states categorically: 'All peoples have the right to self-

determination'. It is universally k n o w n that the African peoples in South
Africa live under the rule of a white-minority government that denies them
national sovereignty and violates the territorial integrity of their country. T h e
right of peoples to self-determination is a fundamental principle of
international law that governs the political status of indigenous peoples on
their ancestral land. T h e African people in South Africa do not enjoy this
right, and their struggle for national liberation is based upon the inalienable
right to exercise it unrestricted, unhindered and unmolested. According to
the Universal Declaration of H u m a n Rights, 'inadequacy of political,
economic, social or educational preparedness should never serve as a pretext
for delaying independence'. T h e denial of the enjoyment of the right is the
manifest expression of a colonial status, and therefore the question of legality
in so far as South Africa's present political international status is concerned is
irrelevant to us because it ignores objective reality.
In raising the question of South Africa's legal international status our
desire is to remove the ambiguities associated with it so that the situation m a y
be correctly adjusted. W e have already quoted part of the resolution of the
twenty-ninth session of the United Nations General Assembly, which refers
to self-determination, while another supports 'the legitimate struggle of the
oppressed people of South Africa for the total eradication of apartheid'. W e
wish to draw attention to two further resolutions of the United Nations. In
Resolution 2787 ( X X V I ) of 1971, the General Assembly 'confirms the
legality of people's struggles for self-determination and liberation from
colonial and foreign domination and alien subjugation, notably in Southern
Africa and in particular that of the peoples of Z i m b a b w e , Namibia, Angola,
M o z a m b i q u e and Guinea (Bissau) as well as the Palestinian people, by all
available m e a n s consistent with the Charter of the United Nations'.
Furthermore Resolution 3103 (XXVIII), adopted in 1973, states:
The armed conflicts involving the struggles of peoples against colonial and alien
domination and racist regimes are to be regarded as international conflicts in the
sense of the 1949 Geneva Conference and the legal status envisaged to apply to the
combatants in the Geneva Conventions and other international instruments are to
apply to the persons engaged in armed struggles against colonial and alien domination
and racist regimes.
The national liberation m o v e m e n t of the people of Azania considers that the

African people in Azania live under the rule of a white minority government
that denies them national sovereignty and violates the territorial integrity of
their country. That is a colonial situation, and ' h u m a n equality' is a
secondary issue. T h e national right to self-determination is an international
36 E. L. Ntloedibe
issue, and in any case it is indivisible and means the same thing in Azania as
in Namibia, Z i m b a b w e and any other part of Africa. This means that to the
people of Azania the question of legality is irrelevant in this respect because
it ignores the reality of our situation.
O u r firm position in this regard is that white domination in Africa is not
merely a matter of apartheid but is part and parcel of local and foreign
exploitation of the African people.
T h e political status of the present Republic of South Africa, w e hold, is
that of a colonial country o w n e d by the imperialist consortium of investors
and trading partners w h o o w n more than 80 per cent of South African private
property in company with the white bourgeoisie, of which the government is
a significant part. T h e main aspect of the principal contradiction in Azania,
therefore, is the control of the country and its riches. T h e country consists of
the land and its peoples. T h e wealth consists of its natural resources and the
labour of its peoples. M u c h of the land surface is m a d e up of ancient rocks
with a series of continental sediments rich in minerals. Unlimited mineral
resources, according to tourist brochures, have m a d e it so far the richest
country in Africa. T h e population of the country, by the last official census,
stands at about 25 million m e n , w o m e n and children, at least 21 million of
them being Africans. A racist government minister recently described the
so-called homelands, which w e call 'native labour reserves', as having a
permanent commodity which no other independent African country has:
unlimited labour resources.
In the last thirty years, the white bourgeoisie has m a d e concerted
efforts to strengthen its economic stake in the country, but British
imperialism still holds a dominating position and controls about 97 per cent
of mining capital, 94 per cent of industrial capital, 88 per cent of finance
capital, and 75 per cent of commercial capital. This power base is highly
concentrated in the hands of seven finance houses, which control between
them over a thousand of the largest companies with combined resources
exceeding £1,000 million, while other Western imperialist interests have a
stake exceeding £1,800 million invested in at least 1,632 companies owned by
thirteen capitalist countries. Australia has 73 companies operating in South
Africa; Belgium 44; Canada 15; France 85; Italy 21; Japan 2; the Netherlands
57; N e w Zealand 3; Sweden 59; Switzerland 17; the United Kingdom 630; the
United States 494 and the Federal Republic of G e r m a n y 132. *
It is undeniable that all the foreign companies operating in South
Africa observe the 'native policy' of the South African Government and
operate strictly within the laws directly flowing from that policy. In short,
they are all partners in apartheid or, conversely, apartheid is practised and
applied on their behalf and to their advantage. O u r submission is that the
'native policy' is applied in their colonial interest and, like British colonialism
before them, at their instigation. A n d this is because South Africa is their

joint semi-colony.
W e define white domination as a South African brand of colonialism.
This is because, at the present m o m e n t , colonial authority over the African
people is exercised by the white racist government, which inherited it from
British colonialism in 1910. T h e British had exercised it throughout their
colonial occupation of country and had themselves inherited it from the
racist colonial rule of the Dutch East India C o m p a n y , whose Cape settlement
began on 6 April 1652. W e m a k e a distinction here between the sectarianism
of white racism, which is not a historical fundamental contradiction, and
despotism, which is a fundamental feature of colonialism.
T h e first Union Government was a coalition government. In the
United Kingdom, the affairs of South Africa were handled by the Colonial
Office and the Dominion Office. In 1925, however, the two offices were
separated, and South Africa fell under the jurisdiction of the Dominion
Office. A t the time, British sovereignty was acknowledged. In the
parliamentary debate on the Nationality and Flag Bill in 1927, the Interior
Minister, D r D . F . Malan, argued that 'Union nationals must also be British
subjects, a smaller circle within a larger one'. (Cape Times, 24 February,
1927). T h e 1926 Imperial Conference held in London had declared the
United Kingdom and the Dominions to be 'equal in status [and] in no way
subordinate to one another'. T h e relevant clauses of the resultant Balfour
Declaration were to be embodied in the Statute of Westminister in
1931, giving legal form to the freedom of action for those dominions that
desired it.
General Hertzog, the then Prime Minister, hailed this, as reported in
the Cape Times of 28 February 1931, as 'sovereign independence and finality
with regard to the country's freedom'. This constitutional change was said to
link the country's international status with the so-called native problem.
Hitherto the British position had been that 'black interests must come first
where few white m e n dwelt a m o n g m a n y blacks' (Africa and some World
Problems). In response to General Smuts' call, General Hertzog is said to
have m a d e close contact with colonial delegates at the Imperial conference,
especially the Kenya colonial delegation, and 'begged that the governments
concerned should consult together before any of them adopted a native
policy which differed markedly from that of the Union Government' (Cape
Times, November 1930).
The Status Act of 1934 proclaimed the Parliament of the Union of
South Africa as the 'sovereign legislative body' without whose consent no
future British monarch or his representative might act. T h e Coronation Oath
Act of 1937 bound the British king 'to rule South Africans according to the
statutes agreed on in the Union parliament, and according to their o w n laws
38 E. L. Ntloedibe
and customs'. This position remained until 1961, w h e n the republican

constitution replaced the monarchical status at the time of D r Verwoerd's
secession from the C o m m o n w e a l t h . Until then the head of state was the
British monarch acting through his local representative, the Governor-
General. Charles Roberts Swart was the last Governor-General of South
Africa and the first republican president.
T h e British position
It is clear from this evidence that the United Kingdom did not, in 1910, give
sovereign independence to the Union of South Africa, apart from full
legislative power and authority 'to m a k e laws for the peace, order and good
government' within the limits of the colonies. This was the hallmark of
responsible government in British constitutional practice at the time. T h e
colonial authority entrusted to the Governor-General of the Union of South
Africa over the black people under section 147 of the constitution is clear and
unambiguous. It states that 'the control and administration of native affairs
and of matters specially or differentially affecting Asiatics throughout the
Union shall vest in the Governor-General-in-Council w h o shall exercise all
special powers in regard to native affairs hitherto vested in the Governors of
the colonies or exercised by them as supreme chiefs of the native tribes'.
Hahlo and K a h n state, in British Commonwealth, Development of its
Laws and Constitutions, South Africa, that the British Government had
indicated in various ways that it would not reject a compact, hammered out
at the white national convention, which retained the existing colonial
franchise provisions in the various provinces and excluded non-whites from
Parliament. They conclude that 'in native affairs the Governor-General was
vested with the special powers of colonial Governors'. They add that the only
constitutional development that took place to give the appearance of cut
links binding the Union to British colonialism derived from the fact that the
Union executive had, in accordance with British convention, secured the
control of the Royal Prerogative and could exercise it through the
Governor-General, without reference to the sovereign. O n the question of
independent sovereignty, the British contended that 'the relationship
between the dominions and the imperial government could not be
interpreted as contemplating an alliance of independent states but rather
emphasized a declaration of autonomy for the various parts of the empire'.
This submission was advanced at a time when General Hertzog of
South Africa was hailing the 1926 Balfour Declaration and the 1931 Statute
of Westminister as meaning, for South Africa, 'sovereign independence and
finality with regard to the country's freedom'. General Hertzog's analysis was
described in the United Kingdom as 'more sentiment than substance'. T h e

Dominion Secretary told the House of C o m m o n s that 'nothing essentially
new had taken place; the two principles of the Balfour Declaration were the
political equality of the dominions within the empire and their unity under
the c o m m o n Crown'. There was not even unanimous agreement within the
South African Government. T h e Interior Minister, D r D . F . Malan, w h o
piloted the Flag Bill, which was supposed to reflect the new status, argued
that the change in the flag denoted 'the national status of the Union and the
unity of the Empire'.
Evolution of status by convention

The conventional evolution of the status of British dominions started at the
Imperial Conference of 1911, where it was resolved that dominions should,
wherever practicable, be consulted before international obligations affecting
them were undertaken. They themselves conceded, however, that the final
responsibility on the determination of policy matters rested with the imperial
government. The declaration of war against Germany in 1914 was accepted
by the dominions as automatically binding upon them, and their participation
in the war resulted in the creation of the Imperial W a r Cabinet, in which they
were represented.
At the Paris Peace Conference in 1919 the imperial war cabinet
converted itself into an imperial delegation with the dominions' representa-
tives, by virtue of their role in the war, representing their o w n countries in
their o w n right as well. They thus signed the Treaty of Versailles both as an
imperial delegation and on behalf of their o w n countries and thus became
original members of the League of Nations.
In 1920, Canada was permitted to have separate diplomatic representa-
tion in Washington, the Irish Free State in 1924, and South Africa in 1930
after the 1926 Imperial Conference had allowed 'freedom of action in
international affairs' to those dominions which desired it. This did not confer
independent status to the dominions, 'even though some dominion statesmen
claimed it', like General Hertzog, for example. T h e status of the consular
representatives of members of the Commonwealth was raised in 1943,
starting with Canada, to that of ambassadors, and after the Second World
W a r members of the Commonwealth became original members of the United
Nations with independent treaty-making powers and departments of external
affairs in their cabinets. In the past, foreign relations for the whole empire
had been conducted from Whitehall, but after this, each Commonwealth
country conducted its o w n foreign relations.
The report of the 1930 Imperial Conference stated that 'there would
be no alteration in the c o m m o n status without consultation and agreement
40 E. L. Ntloedibe
between the various m e m b e r s of the C o m m o n w e a l t h ' . In 1947, India was

allowed to remain in the C o m m o n w e a l t h as an independent republic. South
Africa's application was rejected in 1961. It was reported that racist prime
Minister H . F . Verwoerd had withdrawn the application and South Africa
subsequently seceded from the C o m m o n w e a l t h by a unilateral declaration.
It has become patently clear that whoever recognizes South Africa's
so-called sovereign independence essentially recognizes the unilateral
secession in the face of bland refusal by a properly constituted C o m m o n -
wealth conference. South Africa's secession was achieved through legislation
enacted in the racist parliament by the simple process of replacing the words
'Governor-General' by 'State President' wherever they appeared in the
constitution and laws of the country, with appropriate alterations in the m o d e
of appointment and the repeal of the Royal Letters Patent and other
accompanying constitutional instruments. This is an outline of the legal or
conventional evolution of the case. Since w e are not trying to win a court
case, ours is a political submission based on the principle of the right of
self-determination for our people. It would not matter an iota if there were a
South Africa Act of 1961 in which the United Kingdom, in consultation with
other m e m b e r s of the C o m m o n w e a l t h , allowed the Government of South
Africa to secede formally in order to become an independent republic,
because unless and until such a measure conformed to this principle of
self-determination, our people would recognize, such secession on such a
republican declaration.
W e wish to point out emphatically that this categorical stand on the
part of the United Nations, of which the m e m b e r states of the Organization
for African Unity are a constituent part, goes further in its theoretical
positions. T h e United Nations has taken the position, in one of its
resolutions, that where the people of a territory have not yet attained a full
measure of self-government, 'each concrete case should be considered and
decided upon in the light of its particular circumstances and taking into
account therightof self-determination of peoples'. Another stand of historic
importance in the development of the right of self-determination was to
define 'colonialism and all forms of subjugation of peoples to alien
domination and exploitation as a denial of that right and of fundamental
h u m a n rights'.
T h e United Nations has further defined two basic positions. The first
one is that the process of liberation is irresistible and irreversible, and
therefore to avoid serious crises 'an end must be put to colonialism and all
practices of segregation and discrimination associated therewith'. In other
words, relations between free peoples are on a footing of equality. T h e
second is the definition of the legal status of combatants 'struggling against
colonial and alien domination and racist regimes' as being in the same
context as struggles 'for the implementation of their right to self-

determination and independence' as well as being 'legitimate and in full
accordance with the principles of international law'. O u r people have
consistently taken the position that white domination (what is described in
United Nations documents as alien domination) is a denial of self-
determination to peoples under colonial rule. T h e United Nations confirms
that alien domination takes place where 'the dominating power is racially
different from the subject population'.
W e wish to recallfinallythat General Assembly and Security Council
resolutions recognize that 'whoever possessed a right should possess the
means of exercising it; moreover those peoples have the right to seek and
obtain assistance of other states in their struggle and such states have the
right and even the duty to give that assistance'. The black people of Azania
hold that their political status is that of a colonized people. They hold that
their colonizer is the alien government of South Africa, which owes its
authority to British imperialism. British imperialism imposed that colonial
authority through the 'Government and Parliament of the Union of South
Africa [which shall have] full legislative power and authority, within the
limits of colonies, to m a k e laws for the peace, order and good government of
the Union'. W e have pointed out that it was at the express request of the
white national convention that this should be so, and that the Colonial Office
had indicated that it would not reject an arrangement that denied black
people the franchise. W e have also said that this provision was inserted into
the constitution of the Union of South Africa, as Section 147, thus granting
the constitutional head of the South African Government, the Governor-
General, the powers of a colonial governor in the control and administration
of native affairs. O u r view is that the colonial authority that the South
African Government was granted over the black people is present and is
clearly visible in the social practice of that country, and also that the subject
political status of the black people is conspicuously present in that political
situation. W e also hold that it is correct to define white alien domination as
being consistent with colonial rule.
Finally, the concept of self-determination is a national and a natural
right that is universally acknowledged. It is recognized in international law as
a prerequisite for the promotion and protection of h u m a n rights and
fundamental freedoms, and the main essential base for the development of
friendly relations a m o n g nations, and the achievement of international peace
and security.
Notes
1. Investment in Apartheid, p. 9, Brussels, I C F T U , 1974
The challenges
confronting South Africa
Edmond Jouve
In recent years southern Africa has become an area of strategic importance

for the Western world. T h e independence of Angola and Mozambique, the
growth of wars of liberation and the revolt of the black peoples of the
Republic of South Africa have altered the complexion of the problem. T h e
problem posed by the Pretoria regime is in several ways becoming
particularly acute. O n the domestic side, in particular, the white minority
must increasingly take account the 'non-whites'. According to a 1975
estimate South Africa has a population of some 25.5 million, divided into
four racial groups: the white community (16.6 per cent), the black
community (71.2 per cent), coloureds (9.3 per cent), and Indians (2.9 per
cent). T h e non-whites thus constitute a sizeable reserve of manpower.
According to a 1975 figure, only 573,483 out of 2,676,974 workers registered
in industry in South Africa were of the white race. In spite of that, the
'homelands' in which 49 per cent of the black population lives m a k e up only
12.8 per cent of the territory of the Republic. In this situation the Pretoria
authorities first tried to relax their apartheid policy, but w h e n disorder
mounted they had to give up this m o v e . Similarly, on the economic side the
situation is no longer as propitious for them as it was before: and the hostility
of the international community towards the racist regime is continually
increasing. Thus South Africa has set itself the goal of meeting a challenge on
three fronts: political, economic and diplomatic.
T h e political challenge
In an interview published by the Lagos Sunday Times on 30 March 1975
J. B . Vorster, Prime Minister of South Africa, stated: ' M y aim is to
normalize relations with African countries. . . . But m y government's policy
remains one of separate development.' H e went on to say that his country's
policy of racial discrimination could at best be modified but not called in
question. In essence the attitude has hardly changed since. At best the South
African authorities have sought to minimize as far as possible the
unpopularity of this policy. Hence, for instance, the large sums devoted by
The challenges confronting South Africa 43
the government to propaganda. T h e information budget went up from

$140,000 in 1948 to $5 million in 1969, and for the financial year 1976-77 it
was over $15 million. But while the government authorities continue at all
cost to apply the policy of 'separate development', the conflicts intensify,
leading in turn to the intensification of repression.
The policy of 'separate development'

The Republic of South Africa originally accepted the sovereignty granted to
former protectorates in southern Africa. Admittedly Botswana, which has
been independent since 30 September 1966, has a vast territory, but only the
eastern part is fertile. Its economy consequently depends for survival on the
income of the 60,000 workers—approximately one-fifth of the
population—employed in South Africa. Lesotho, which has also been
independent since 1966, lives on the earnings of its 100,000 immigrants. The si-
tuation of Swaziland, independent since September 1968, is not much better.
South Africa protects its currency within the rand area. The former South
West Africa, or Namibia, like the other countries mentioned, remains within
the South African orbit. T h e same is true of the two Bantustans that have
recently been granted 'independence'. Transkei achieved international
sovereignty on 25 October 1976. In April 1975 Chief Matanzima was
accorded the privilege of raising an armed force under the c o m m a n d of a
black officer, and on 1 October police stations in the territory were handed
over to the Transkei police. Meanwhile the coloured and Indian communities
were granted some minor advantages. At the end of October 1976, the
Minister for Bantu Administration announced 'independence' 'next year' for
a second Bantustan, Bophuthatswana. The bill granting this territory indepen-
dence was published on 7 M a y 1977, and independence was proclaimed on 6
December 1977. The new 'state' consists of seven non-contiguous territories,
mostly enclosed within South Africa. Chief Lucas M a n g o p e assumed the
presidency of Bophuthatswana, the provisional capital being Montshiwa.
The next request for independence came in March 1978 from the Venda
Bantustan, near the border with Zimbabwe. At present there are still six
Bantu homelands, Basotho Q w a q w a , Ciskei, Gazankulu, K w a Zulu,
Lebowa and Venda. They have gradually been granted a certain measure of
self-rule. A law enacted in 1953 provided for the gradual introduction of a
Bantu homelands, B a s o t h o - Q w a q w a , Ciskei, Gazankulu, K w a Z u l u ,
Lebowa and Venda. They have gradually been granted a certain measure of
'regional units' (Xhosa, Zulu or Sotho). Progress towards self-rule was
speeded up by a law enacted in 1959. Bantu workers employed in the white
areas were attached for purposes of administration to these national units.
Regional councils were set up. These Bantustans, which are self-governing
under the 1971 Bantu Homelands Constitution Act, are all destined to
44 Edmond Jouve
become 'independent'. A s they are at present, their shortcomings are that

they contain only a fraction of the black population of South Africa (the
majority live in the white areas), that they rest on obsolete tribal
foundations, that they are not viable entities (each homeland being split up
into territories often far distant from one another, and all except Lebowa
having inadequate economic and financial resources) and lastly that their
institutions are undemocratic. Those territories that were granted the status
of independent states are not m u c h better off, but they have sometimes tried
to exercise their n e w prerogatives. Thus on 10 November 1976 the Transkei
Government asked the Pretoria Government to recall immediately the white
policemen w h o had remained in office as 'advisers'. A n identical request was
m a d e on 20 January 1978, this time for the withdrawal of South African
'advisers' from the Ministry of Defence. After various difficulties, Transkei
eventually broke off diplomatic relations with South Africa on 10 April 1978.
South Africa's policy is accompanied by 'liberalization' measures
designed to act as safety-valves. Thus multiracial sports teams were
sanctioned in September 1976, and on 11 August 1977 the Minister for Sport
gave approval for racial mixing in sports clubs. O n 11 March 1978 apartheid
was abolished in theatres, and a few days later the government gave churches
in urban areas permission to stop practising racial discrimination. Private
bodies are moving in the same direction: thus on 3 March 1977 Pick and Pay,
one of the biggest supermarket chains in South Africa, decided to treat
white, black and coloured trade unions on an equal footing, and on 10 April
1977 a multiracial crowd was for thefirsttime admitted to a football match in
Johannesburg. T h e government did not confine itself to doing away with
certain discriminatory measures: on 13 M a y 1977, for example, it put forward
a plan for school buildings in Soweto which were to cost over a million dollars.
Shortly afterwards the Minister for Agriculture, with the support of the
Minister for Foreign Affairs, several newspapers and some public figures,
even called for the repeal of the Immorality Act, which prohibits sexual
relations between persons of different races. O n 9 August 1977 the
Johannesburg Chamber of C o m m e r c e suggested the abolition of apartheid in
public places. Three months later the Attorney-General of the Transvaal
considered instituting legal proceedings in connection with the death, while
in detention, of the black nationalist Steve Biko. S o m e practical steps were
actually taken. Passes for blacks were replaced by identity cards issued by the
Bantustan authorities (4 N o v e m b e r 1977). T h e ban on the newspaper The
Voice was lifted on 30 June 1978. Following the amalgamation of the four
scout movements (white, African, coloured and Indian) to form a single
Scout M o v e m e n t of South Africa, an African was elected president on 3 July
1977.
These developments, timid though they were, were m a d e possible by
the major successes achieved by the party in power. O n 12 M a y 1977 the then
Minister for Foreign Affairs, Pik Botha, was elected in triumph at a
by-election. O n 2 September of the same year J. B . Vorster, the Prime
Minister, announced the dissolution of Parliament and the four provincial
councils, and elections were planned for 30 November 1977. In view of the
mobilization of international public opinion against the apartheid regime, the
government m a d e every effort to obtain a n e w mandate from the white
population. These elections resulted in a sweeping victory for J. B . Vorster
and his party. The National Party w o n 134 seats out of 165, a gain of 19. This
overwhelming support left the Prime Minister completely free to implement
his racial policy, and also to draw up and bring in the new constitution. The
m o m e n t he was elected, moreover, he m a d e plain his refusal to grant
political rights to the Africans. O n the other hand he promised to m a k e 'the
necessary changes within the framework of separate development'.
But meanwhile the solidarity of the blacks was equal to that of the
whites. At the local elections in Soweto (19 February and 15 April 1978),
there was a 95 per cent abstention rate. A few months later, on 28 September
1978, the regime's 'strong m a n ' , Pik Botha, was elected by Parliament as
Prime Minister of the Republic of South Africa.1 A former Minister of
Defence, he m a d e the country the strongest military power without of the
equator by dint of a spectacular increase in arms expenditure. The new Prime
Minister was one of the architects of the draft constitution. The development
of the situation in southern Africa led to a speeding up of the 'process of
constitutional segregation'.2 O n 1 August 1977 a constitutional amendment
was announced to take effect at the end of 1978. This was the third
amendment to the constitution, following the 1909 South Africa Act and the
Republic of South Africa Constitution Act of 24 April 1961, and it provided
for three of the four communities (whites, coloureds and Indians) each to
have a single-chamber parliament responsible for its o w n affairs. Each group
was also to have a government and a Prime Minister. There was, however, no
provision for a federal parliament. Questions c o m m o n to the three
communities were to be dealt with by a cabinet committee consisting of the
ministers of the three communities. In the event of a disagreement, final
decision was to rest with the President of the Republic. T h e blacks would
achieve their 'independence' in the long term and thus lose all legal links with
South Africa.
But white power held firm. Thus on 10 November 1976 the Minister of
Labour rejected the suggestion put forward by employers' organizations and
industry for the repeal of the law reserving skilled jobs for whites. O n the
following day the Minister for Bantu Administration, Treurnicht, came out
against any relaxation of the apartheid policy. There was worse to come. O n
16 March 1977 J. S. Otto, the n e w deputy mayor of Johannesburg,
46 Edmond Jouve
advocated an intensification of segregation. J. B . Vorster, for his part,

announced on 19 April 1977 that the 'separate development' policy would be
continued and discrimination between racial communities eliminated. But,
he said a few months later, the South African Government was not prepared
to accept any compromise. Consequently he rejected 'one m a n , one vote'.
Other political figures went even further. O n 2 February 1978. Connie
Mulder, the new Minister for Bantu Administration, m a d e it known that the
apartheid policy would be implemented to its logical conclusion. Pik Botha
stated that only force could bring the whites to accept universal suffrage for
the blacks. These stances were not conducive to the reduction of strife, which
indeed tended to get worse.
The increase in violence

The apartheid regime was bound to meet with opposition, for opposition
exists, even though it is divided. First there is a legal opposition, whose
strength was clearly shown in the elections of 30 November 1977. The N e w
Republic Party ( N R P ) set up on 29 June 1977 is the result of the
amalgamation of the United Party and the Democratic Party. Its position on
'racial' matters is equivocal. A t the constitutional level it advocates a federal
system, but does not oppose the policy of Bantustans. It has ten members of
Parliament (11.4 per cent of the votes). T h e N R P is n o w no longer the
leading opposition party, having been ousted from this position by the
Progressive Federal Party (PFP) started in Johannesburg on 6 September
1977. T h e P F P , which is bolder than the N R P , campaigns for a federal
structure and a degree of power-sharing between whites, blacks, coloureds
and Indians. O n 25 June 1978 this party's Natal provincial congress came out
in favour of universal suffrage.
Opposition outside Parliament is certainly more powerful than the
legal opposition. Founded in 1912, the African National Congress ( A N C ) is
the oldest liberation movement in Black Africa. T h e A N C was banned in
South Africa after spearheading the protest movements of the 1950s.
D o o m e d to clandestinity, it has been influenced by the ideology of the South
African Communist Party. Oliver T a m b o , its president, defines the A N C ' s
attitude as follows: ' W e are no longer willing to be governed. W e want to
govern. W e are no longer willing for decisions affecting us to be taken by
others. W e are no longer willing to be slaves.' The A N C ' s rival, the Pan-
Africanist Congress of Azania, likewise banned since 8 April 1960, 'rejects
the traditional approach which givesfirstpriority to the liberation of the
country from racist dictatorship and puts off until later the practical questions
of national liberation'. The aim it sets itself is socialist revolution. The A N C
and the P A C played active roles in the powerful strikes of 1972-74.
Recently, a whole series of organizations banned since 1977—the South
African Students' Organization ( S A S O ) , the Black People's Convention

( B P C ) and the Soweto Student Representative Council (SSRC)—have found
c o m m o n ground in Black Consciousness. Unlike other organizations, Black
Consciousness advocates non-violence; it is influenced by the South African
churches opposed to the regime; it exalts 'négritude'. Its first manifesto was
drawn up in 1971 by S A S O , and its thinking afterwards crystallized,
especially at congresses of the Black People's Convention ( B P C ) . It rests on
the idea that the non-whites are undergoing national oppression. All 'black'
South Africans—negroes, coloureds and Indians—are oppressed, unless they
contribute to the implementation of the apartheid policy. Conversley, all
whites are in the other camp. 'Hence race differentiates friend and foe.'3
Following the intensification of repression, certain realignments
emerged. O n 9 October 1976,fiftyAfrican leaders held a secret meeting in
Johannesburg to form a political front to defend the interest of blacks in
South Africa. O n 29 November 1976 a new party came into being, the Black
United Front. T w o months later seven Members of Parliament themselves
managed to found another opposition party, the Independent United Party.
O n 4 M a y 1977 the writers of the Azanian people formed an association,
while on 23 November of the same year an Action Committee was set up in
Soweto claiming kinship with Black Consciousness. But the most important
event was undoubtedly the founding on 30 April 1978 of the Azanian African
People's Organization ( A Z A P O ) , which brought together the anti-
apartheid activists of Black Consciousness.
Legal or illegal, inside or outside Parliament, organized or unorganiz-
ed, the opposition in South Africa has waged m a n y campaigns. The race riots
of 16 June 1976 at Soweto, the main black township in the suburbs of
Johannesburg, come to mind. This popular uprising cost twenty-three dead
and over two hundred injured. The ripples spread outwards to m a n y black
townships and to other strata of the population (the satellite towns of
Johannesburg and Pretoria, the Bantustans, the coloured community of
Cape T o w n , and Indian students). T h e urban revolt was carried on by the
Soweto Student Representative Council (SSRC) under the leadership of
Taietsi Mashini. The riot was followed by strikes. O n 4 August 1976 the A N C
launched thefirstnational strike, and a second general strike took place on
23 August. Over 500,000 workers from the industrial areas of Johannesburg
and Cape T o w n stayed at h o m e . Buses and trains ran empty. Students and
workers mobilized at places of work and in the townships. Further racial
clashes took place in Soweto from 23 to 27 August 1976, causing thirty-five
deaths. Again on 2 September 1976 and days following several thousand
coloureds demonstrated in Cape T o w n . Violent clashes occurred between
demonstrators and the police. O n 13 September the African workers of
Soweto and Alexandra went on strike; two days later they were joined by the
48 Edmond Jouve
coloureds of the Cape T o w n area. A third general strike broke out on 15 and
16 September 1976. O n e of the pamphlets distributed during the campaign
reads:
In the struggle to defend their interests and secure better living conditions, the
workers must set up associations of their own in the townships and at their places of
work. The situation demands that the oppressed and exploited unite under the
slogans 'Power to the workers' and 'Power to the people'.
For the first time since 1961, strikes were staged to achieve a national
political aim. O n this occasion the London Times wrote in September 1976:
'The rebellion, which began merely as a protest against Afrikaans in black
schools, is taking on an anti-capitalist direction. For the present, strikes are
what the whites fear most.' In October fresh incidents took place in Soweto:
some thirty buses were set on fire, there was a b o m b attack, blacks and
coloureds demonstrated in the city centre of Cape T o w n , and schools were
set on fire.
1977 was also a particularly troubled year. 'Tribal' clashes in Natal, a
b o m b attack in Soweto, schools set on fire in the African townships of the
Cape, demonstrations against rent increases, celebrations to mark the
seventeenth anniversary of the Sharpeville massacre and demonstrations by
coloureds in Johannesburg occurred in rapid succession during the first six
months. T h e government reacted by securing the sentencing of a sizeable
group of demonstrators; but no lull ensued. T h e students set the movement
going again. O n 25 July they went on strike in Soweto. Next day they
demonstrated in the suburbs of Johannesburg and Pretoria. O n 30 July, 1 and
3 August and 7 September violent demonstrations took place in Soweto. It
was against this background that the news came on 11 September of the
death in prison of Steve Biko, the most prominent Black Consciousness
leader. A campaign against the Minister of Justice, J i m m y Kruger, was at
once launched in the opposition press; and violence broke out again.
Schoolboys setfireto the administration offices of the Ciskei Bantustan. In
October they boycotted the examinations in African schools at Soweto. In
November and December several b o m b s went off, some at the Carlton
Centre in Johannesburg and some at Benoni. T h e end of the year was
especially stormy. O n 12 December 1977 representatives of 350,000 South
African trade unionists came out in favour of the granting of trade-union
rights to blacks and the abolition of jobs reserved for whites. A week later
there were the Port Elizabeth riots. A n d 1978 also was to have its succession
of incidents of all kinds. In February a general strike broke out over wages on
an industrial complex in K w a Z u l u . At the same time, by way of backcloth, an
armed struggle was developing that was increasingly difficult to conceal. Acts
of sabotage ranging from arson to b o m b attacks and clashes between
guerrillas and racist troops were continually taking place. It is true that acts
of this kind are frequently thwarted by one of the most efficient police forces
in the world, the Bureau of State Security ( B O S S ) it is largely responsible for
intensifying the repression.
The intensification of repression

The government took steps to counter the rising tide of strife. Under a law
passed in 1974 it has power to ban any group suspected of engaging in
subversive activities or of receiving funds from abroad. In 1975 the Christian
Institute, whose m e m b e r s are clergymen of all Christian denominations, fell
foul of this law. T h e 1967 Anti-Terrorism Act also occupied an important
place in the legal arsenal. Enacted with retrospective effect, this law
empowers police officers from the rank of lieutenant-colonel upwards to
order the arrest without proof of any citizen suspected of terrorism or
thought likely to provide information about the activities of terrorists. It
allows unlimited solitary confinement, and provides for sentences from five
years' imprisonment to the death penalty. T h e grip of the law has thus been
gradually tightened. F r o m the middle of August to the end of September
1975 the police arrested on average one political dissident every other day.
A n index of the intensification of repression is to be found in the fact that the
Pretoria regime increasingly goes for whites. In this connection the most
famous prisoner is no doubt Breyten Breytenbach, the painter and Afrikaans
poet, w h o was arrested in Johannesburg on 19 August 1975. T h e National
Union of South African Students ( N U S A S ) has also paid a heavy toll.
T h e year 1976 was even more packed with riots than the previous year.
O n 16 June the police opened fire in Soweto, killing a child of 13 and
triggering off months ofriotingand strikes throughout the country. Later, in
September 1976, four young coloureds were killed by bullets during incidents
with the police in the coloured suburb of Cape T o w n . Bloody demonstrations
took place there in N o v e m b e r . T h e government authorities did not confine
themselves to repressing demonstrations of this kind, sometimes violently,
but had m a n y people arrested and charged. Thus on 31 August 1976 the
chairman of the South African Committee for H u m a n Rights was 'detained'
by the police; and on 1 September Joe Thloloe, president of the Union of
African Journalists, was also arrested. A few days later a British journalist,
David Rabkin, and an assistant lecturer at Cape T o w n University, Jeremy
Cronin, were charged under the Anti-Terrorism Act. Next day it was the turn
of a black journalist on the Rand Daily Mail to be arrested. O n 23 September
400 people suffered the same fate following disorders in the centre of
Johannesburg. T w o black South African actors were placed under house
arrest on 2 October, and a journalist on the Cape Times was charged under
the Anti-Terrorism Act on 9 October. Arrests became more frequent: on 14
50 Edmond Jouve
October 1976 near Cape T o w n , on 19 October at Soweto, and from 1 to 3

December and on 30 December in Natal. These arrests were followed by
sentences: on 29 September 1976 Rabkin and Cronin were sentenced to ten
years' and seven years' imprisonment respectively for 'terrorist activities'.
Indeed, repression was used in all quarters. Thus thefirstSouth African film
m a d e by blacks, How Long, was put under a banning order.
Repression grew still worse in 1977, as witness some newly enacted
legislation. O n 1 February 1977 a law was passed exempting the state and its
officials from all legal proceedings in respect of actions aimed at maintaining
law and order. Murders continued in large numbers. In that year alone 117
prisoners, including ten held under the security laws, were murdered. Arrests
also became more frequent: 576 Africans in the Cape T o w n area in January,
the national secretary of one of the opposition parties in the Transkei in
February, the founder andfiveleaders of the Black People's Convention in
March, three Black Conscousness leaders in July, student leaders in Soweto in
August, four black priests in October, and so on. Sentences were of course
meted out: five years' imprisonment for thirty-one young blacks w h o had taken
part in the Port Elizabeth riots in 1976, life imprisonment for five members of
the African National Congress, house arrest for the Secretary-General of the
B P C , the anti-apartheid movement, in July, and so on. Schools were ordered
to be closed: in the African townships of Cape T o w n on 4 February, in Soweto
on 6 September and in the Venda Bantustan on 5 October. In the meantime,
two publications were banned: World and Week-End World, the two biggest
newspapers written and read by blacks. O n the same day, 19 October 1977,
eighteen organizations belonging to Black Consciousness or supporting its
ideas were outlawed. Despite protests at the time, repressive measures
continued in 1978. O n 19 January it was announced that the opposition
leader in the Transkei, Hector Ncokasi, had 'disappeared'. O n 3 April 165
people were arrested in the same Bantustan. O n 14 April large-scale police
operations took place in Johannesburg following the murder of two white
schoolboys. Other police operations were carried out in the Durban area. O n
4 M a y some of the leaders of A Z A P O were arrested. A few days later, on 15
June, the black ecumenical weekly The Voice was banned. White power thus
replied brutally to the political challenge to it.
The economic challenge

The Republic of South Africa is in a different category from other powers. Its
racist policies have w o n it banishment from the community of 'civilized'
nations. Thus it has on several occasions had an arms embargo imposed on it,
or been subjected to United Nations sanctions. But this does not prevent its
trading with most of the countries of the world, including the socialist
countries. Its annual balance of payments has, however, been in deficit for
some years: between 1972 and 1974 it increased from 781 million to 1,561
million rands. Even so, the spectacular development has enabled this
economic giant to deal with the deficit without undue difficulty.
An economic giant
South African economic growth is largely the result of industrial develop-
ment begun before 1961 and pursued thanks to cheap electric power
abundant, poorly paid black labour, an influx of highly qualified white
immigrants, the use of large amounts of capital, and low taxation. However,
increases in the price of gold, raw materials and agricultural produce have in
recent years brought about a markedrisein the national income. From 1972
to 1974 revenue from gold sales tripled, reaching $4,000 million. T h e
government levies 850 million rands per year on the profits of the gold mines
alone (gold deposits represent 49 per cent of world reserves and 60 per cent
of the reserves of the non-socialist world). T h e Orange Free State alone
produces a quarter of the capitalist world's gold. A s well as producing some
1,000 tonnes of gold a year, the Republic of South Africa also has diamonds
(7.2 million carats), copper, iron, manganese (48 per cent of world reserves),
nickel, vanadium (64 per cent of world reserves), uranium (25 per cent of
world reserves), chronium and platinum (83 per cent of world reserves) and
so on. In all, the Republic of South Africa ranks third for mining production
behind the Soviet Union and the United States of America. South Africa
leads the world in production of gold and diamonds, comes second for
platinum, and is third for the production of antimony, uranium, chronium,
manganese and vanadium. T h e Republic also has large assets in the
agricultural sphere. It ranks fifth in the world for the production of maize and
wool, seventh for groundnuts, ninth for sunflowers and for sheep rearing,
and tenth for sugar-cane and meat.
Though badly off for oil, the Republic of South Africa has hardly
suffered at all from the energy crisis. It draws 80 per cent of its energy
resources from coal (from the Transvaal and Cape Province), hydro-electric
power (from hydro-electric complexes on the Orange River), synthetic petrol
(produced at Sasolburg) and nuclear energy. T h e energy deficit is largely met
by imports of Iranian oil. T h e Republic of South Africa is today far and away
the leading industrial country on the African continent. It produces 75 per
cent of its coal and 80 per cent of its steel, and its growth rate is one of the
highest in the world. Its mining industries employ 700,000 people. Its four
main ports, Durban, Cape T o w n , Port Elizabeth and East London, are hives
of activity. Harbour complexes at Saldanha B a y and Richard's B a y are
designed to free the Transvaal from undue dependence on Mozambique.
52 Edmond Jouve
The economic growth of the country, however, requires abundant

manpower. South African industrialists are increasingly obliged to call upon
the black population to do jobs that in theory are forbidden to them.
Furthermore, as an important survey by the British economist John Suckling
shows, from 1957 to 1972 foreign technology contributed 60 per cent of the
technology needed for the economic growth of the country, which is a
considerable proportion. Fifty per cent of trade is carried on with the United
States, Japan, the Federal Republic of G e r m a n y and the United Kingdom.
Imports rose by 97 per cent between 1972 and 1975, but subsequently fell.
For France South Africa is a prime trading partner in southern Africa. In
1976 Pretoria accounted for about 87 per cent of French exports and 72 per
cent of French imports in this part of the world. Nevertheless, France was
then only South Africa's fifth largest supplier and seventh largest customer.
Its share of the South African market in imports went d o w n from 3.6 per cent
in 1962 to 3.5 per cent in 1976. With imports from France worth 2,350 million
francs and exports to France worth 1,540 million francs, South Africa is
France's twentieth largest supplier and its nineteenth largest customer. A s
regards investments France occupies a more important place, for taking
account of direct investments only, it comes third (after the United Kingdom
and the United States). During the last ten years France has m a d e
remarkable commercial and financial penetration in sectors such as nuclear
energy (in the Framatome contract for the construction of two nuclear power
stations at Koelberg, near Cape T o w n ) and major public works schemes in
the Bantustans. In current francs its purchases from and sales to South Africa
have gone up by 3.5 since 1971. M o r e than three-quarters of French exports
to South Africa consist of durables, machinery and vehicles. These statistics,
moreover, exclude sales of military equipment such as planes, helicopters,
submarines and tanks, or licences to produce this equipment locally, which
ran into large amounts at least until the 1976 embargo. According to the
sources, the value of these sales m a y have amounted to 1,250 or 2,000 million
francs for the years 1970 to 1975. At that time France was the largest foreign
supplier of arms to Africa.4
South Africa also maintains quite useful relations with some of its
neighbours. Thus a sizeable trade goes on between the Republic of South
Africa, Zaire and Rhodesia, mainly overland. Rhodesian railways transport
Shaba copper, via Zambia and Rhodesia, to the ports of Durban and East
London, and the volume m a y amount to 22,000 tonnes a month. O n e the
return journey the trains carry various materials, particularly South African
coal. South African exports to Zaire in 1976 amounted to 40 million rands, or
a tenth of the country's exports to Africa. They have sincerisenby 10 to 15
per cent per year. In 1977 Pretoria gave Zaire a new 20-million-rand credit to
cover imports from South Africa. T h e Republic of South Africa thus
constitutes an absolute economic empire; but nowadays this empire is in

jeopardy.
Cracks in the structure

Economic necessity to s o m e extent explains the adoption of a timid policy of
détente. Segregationist laws are frequently contravened by employers,
despite the hostility of the white unions. Under the Job Reservations Act all
skilled jobs are reserved for whites. Nevertheless, since January 1975 black
nurses have worked in private clinics in Durban reserved for whites. Since
that date some steps have been taken in Johannesburg to end the 'untimely
humiliation' daily visited on the blacks. Harry Oppenheimer is campaigning
for desegregation at work. In the building trade; transport, steelworks and
the mines apartheid is sometimes frustrated. W a g e differentials based on
colour are tending to narrow. Thus on 1 M a y 1975 the wages of 150,000 black
workers in the sugar industry were increased by 50 per cent. O n the same
date 'urbanized blacks' were granted the right to build their houses in white
areas. Obviously these are in the main limited steps. But the economic
situation is also causing concern, mainly because of the fall in the gold price
on the world market, which has upset the balance of payments. This fall,
together with the increase in the market price of oil and its derivatives and
the growth of defence expenditure, led to some pessimistic forecasts. T h e
nationalist daily Beeld and the Economic Research Bureau forecast a growth
rate of the order of only 3 per cent for 1976. In view of inflation (17.8 per cent
in 1973, 11.9 per cent in 1974 and 11.7 per cent in 1975), the rand was
devalued by 17.9 per cent against the American dollar in September 1975.
This step had profound repercussions: an increase in the price of imported
produce, a crisis in the motor industry and the laying off of several thousand
workers. T o deal with this situation the government and representatives of
the private sector signed an agreement in Pretoria on 7 October 1975 under
which private firms would limit their profits to 15 per cent, not pass on m o r e
than 70 per cent of cost increases in their prices, and restrict wage increases
to 70 per cent of the cost-of-living index.
The diplomatic challenge

B y and large, international opinion is obviously hostile to the apartheid
policy adopted by the Republic of South Africa. A t the most some countries
have sought to foster a diplomatic dialogue, but that too has partly failed.
The failure of the diplomatic dialogue
Following suggestions by the Ivory Coast in N o v e m b e r 1970 and then in
54 Edmond Jouve
April 1971 for engaging in dialogue with South Africa, several governments
supported President Houphouet-Boigny's initiative: Malawi, Madagascar,
G h a n a , the Central African Republic and Uganda. J. B . Vorster subsequent-
ly had an unpublicized meeting in 1974 with the presidents of the Ivory
Coast and Senegal. In February 1975, the South African Prime Minister
brought off another 'coup' by having a talk with William Tolbert, President of
Liberia. In the previous October Vorster had been to Rhodesia and Malawi.
Other high-ranking figures also went on trips. F r o m February 1974 to April
1975 the secretary to the South African Minister for Foreign Affairs m a d e
twenty-three journeys to African countries. A Zairian minister went to Cape
T o w n in April 1975. O n 25 August of the same year the President of Zambia,
Kenneth Kaunda, spent several hours with Vorster at Victoria Falls on the
occasion of the Rhodesian conference. In September 1975 the Minister for
Information of the Ivory Coast, Laurent D o n a Fologo, made a ten-day official
visit to South Africa. This was the first time that a Minister for Information of
a Black African country had gone to South Africa. In Johannesburg he
condemned apartheid in the following terms: 'There is at least one poison on
this African soil of ours, and that is South African racism.' But he at once
added: 'Disagreeing does not mean being opposed to dialogue . . . W e know
that the road will be a long one. The path of peace is more difficult than the
path of violence.' T h e Ivory Coast minister's journey aroused great
controversey. S o m e countries, such as Guinea, bitterly attacked this n e w
attitude. According to a communiqué published by the African National
Congress in Algiers on 12 September 1975, the visit was part of 'a great
conspiracy to isolate the liberation struggle in South Africa and undermine
the Organization for African Unity'. S A S O accused the Ivory Coast Minister
for Information of 'flirting with people w h o are interested neither in peace
nor in dialogue'. T h e O A U thenceforward condemned all direct dialogue
with Pretoria. Indeed, organizations often reacted more harshly than
governments.
The reaction of the organizations

The O A U has m a n y times devoted attention to the problems of southern
Africa. Its Council of Ministers, meeting in the capital the United Republic
of Tanzania from 7 to 11 April 1975, sought means of eradicating colonialism
and racism in the south of the continent. In the Dar es Salam declaration on
southern Africa the O U A re-examined its strategy for achieving the
liberation of Rhodesia and Namibia and the abolition of apartheid in South
Africa. It noted the failure of the peaceful approach advocated by the Lusaka
manifesto, and stressed that the Mogadishu Declaration had called for an
intensification of the armed struggle, especially in the Portuguese colonies.
At D a r es Salaam the O A U suggested 'taking advantage of the freedom-
fighters' victory in Mozambique, Angola, Guinea-Bissau, Cape Verde, Sao

T o m e and Principe to shift the liberation process southwards, with special
emphasis on the liberation of Zimbabwe and Namibia.' T o this end the unity
and solidarity of Africa must be preserved and strengthened. Having stated
the grounds for the struggle, the Dar es Salaam Declaration admits that 'the
strategies and tactics for achieving this goal could vary according to the
situation and the time'. Eschewing d o g m a , the signatories to the Declaration
did not choose between the path of peace and the armed struggle. Both can
be used, together or separately, according to circumstances. Hence 'the
problem of the liberation of southern Africa must be seen in the context of an
overall strategy for the total liberation of the area, whilst at the same time
recognizing that the factors peculiar to the three territories concerned—
Z i m b a b w e , Namibia and South Africa—mean that the liberation m o v e -
ments can adopt different tactics'. The O A U fights the South African
Government 'not because it is white, but because it rejects and opposes the
principles of h u m a n equality and self-determination'. Contrary to the
promises Vorster m a d e in 1974, the situation has deteriorated further. T h e
O A U therefore takes as its aim the total isolation of the regime, in particular
by enforcing and strengthening the economic, political and cultural boycott
of South Africa and supporting the national liberation movement 'in all its
forms'. O n the question of 'dialogue' with Pretoria, the O A U later moved
towards an attitude of rejection. In 1978 it asked that 'stringent sanctions',
including a compulsory embargo on the supply of oil, be imposed on South
Africa by the United Nations Security Council. In a declaration published at
the Organization's headquarters in Addis A b a b a the O A U also stated that in
announcing the holding of elections in Namibia in November 1978 Vorster
had 'directly challenged the authors of the Western plan' for the
independence of Namibia.
It will thus be seen that the O A U is involved in events in South Africa.
The Security Council dealt with this matter for thefirsttime on 1 April 1960.
It requested the South African Government to give up the policy of apartheid
and put an end to racial discrimination. In December of the same year, the
United Nations General Assembly adopted the Declaration on the Granting
of Independence to Colonial Countries and Peoples. This document
solemnly proclaims the need quickly and finally to m a k e an end of
colonialism in all its forms. O n 6 November 1962 the General Assembly went
a step further and adopted a new resolution calling upon M e m b e r States to
break off diplomatic and economic relations with South Africa and stop
supplying it with arms or ammunition. A year later the Security Council
recommended an embargo on arms supplies. Over the years, the United
Nations has adopted an unequivocal attitude towards South Africa. B y
Resolution 366 of 17 December 1974 the Security Council condemned yet
56 Edmond Jouve
again South Africa's illegal occupation of Namibia and the adoption in the
territory 'of repressive laws and practices' tainted with racial discrimination.
After repeating various demands, the Security Council decided to keep the
question before it. O n 6 June 1975, however, a draft resolution of the
Council to the effect that 'the illegal occupation of the Territory of Namibia
by South Africa constituted a threat to international peace and security' was
rejected as a result of votes against by three permanent members, the United
States of America, France and the United Kingdom. Nevertheless, the
United Nations continued its efforts. Thus on 9 November 1976 the General
Assembly adopted ten resolutions on South Africa's policy of apartheid. In
particular it called on the Security Council to institute a compulsory embargo
on arms for Pretoria, and condemned Israel's collaboration with South
Africa. It declared that the racist regime in South Africa was illegal and had
no right to represent the South African people. It authorized the Special
Committee against Apartheid to organize a world conference for action
against apartheid. At the same session the General Assembly voted by 110 to
8, with 20 abstentions, for a compulsory embargo on all supplies of arms to
South Africa. A few days later, on 30 November, the General Assembly
condemned the collaboration of all states (and hence of France, the Federal
Republic of G e r m a n y , the United Kingdom, the United States, Israel and
Japan) with the Republic of South Africa. It also condemned the policy of
Bantustans. The World Conference for Action against Apartheid took place
in Lagos, Nigeria, from 22 to 26 August 1977, and condemned the practice in
the following terms: 'Apartheid, the policy of institutionalized racist
domination and exploitation, imposed by a minority regime in South Africa,
is aflagrantviolation of the Charter of the United Nations and the Universal
Declaration of H u m a n Rights'. The conference considered that Apartheid 'is
a crime against the conscience and dignity of mankind'. Subsequently, on 4
November 1977, the Security Council was to take a major decision: it
unanimously adopted a resolution imposing on all members of the United
Nations an embargo on the supply of 'arms and related matériel' to South
Africa. O n 9 December 1977 the Security Council set up a committee to
supervise the enforcement of the embargo on arms supplies to the Republic
of South Africa. Again in 1977 and 1978 the United Nations General
Assembly adopted resolutions about South Africa. W h e r e h u m a n rights are
concerned South Africa has often been in the dock at the United Nations.
Thus on 31 August 1976 the Sub-Commission for Prevention of Discrimina-
tion and Protection of Minorities expressed concern at violations of h u m a n
rights in southern Africa. In Geneva on 2 March 1977 the H u m a n Rights
Commission unanimously condemned the 'repressive policies of the
governments of South Africa and Rhodesia'. In connection with these
problems Unesco held a conference on race and racial prejudice from 13 to
20 March 1978. In an effort to m a k e its actions square with its positions of

principle, the United Nations had long before set up a Special Committee
against Apartheid which had met many times since 1968; it included
representatives of the liberation movements, the O A U , the anti-apartheid
movements, the Specialized Agencies of the United Nations and so on. The
first special session of this body was held in Stockholm, London and Geneva
in June 1968, on the occasion of International H u m a n Rights Year. Special
meetings took place at the United Nations headquarters in N e w York in
1969, 1971, 1972 and 1973. In 1975 the committee met in Paris, at Unesco
headquarters, to consider the situation in South Africa and ways of
promoting a sustained campaign against apartheid. In a report adopted in
September 1976 it examined the problem posed by co-operation between
Israel and South Africa. The same body also called upon states not to
recognize the fictitious independence of the Transkei. Lastly, South Africa
left Unesco in 1955 because of interference by M e m b e r States 'in South
African racial problems'. Furthermore several international organizations
have expelled South Africa or compelled it to withdraw from their executive
bodies. Thus South Africa was expelled from the International Union of
Official Travel Organizations on 9 October 1973, from the Universal Postal
Union on 27 M a y 1974 and from the International Hydrological Conference
in September 1974. O n 17 June 1977 it was also expelled from the Board of
Governors of the International Atomic Energy Agency in Vienna.
European organizations are also not indifferent to the problems arising
in South Africa. O n 12 July 1977 the European Economic Community ( E E C )
threatened South Africa with economic sanctions if the policy of apartheid
was not brought to an end. O n 18 August the nine countries of the C o m m o n
Market announced that they were going to use their 'economic power' to
bring pressure to bear on South Africa. In the following month in Brussels
the foreign ministers of the Nine adopted a 'code of conduct' for firms with
subsidiaries or branches in South Africa. Other steps were subsequently
taken. O n 26 October 1977 a joint approach was m a d e by the Nine to the
South African Minister for Foreign Affairs about the steps taken against
anti-apartheid movements. Other organizations again are closely following
developments in South Africa. The problem was examined at the Summit
Conference of Non-aligned Countries during the summer of 1976. The First
Afro-Arab Summit Conference, held in Cairo from 3 to 9 March 1977, noted
the wholehearted support of African and Arab countries for the struggle of
the peoples of Palestine, Zimbabwe and South Africa. At the international
Conference in Support of the Peoples of Zimbabwe and Namibia organized
by the United Nations at Maputo from 16 to 21 M a y 1977, the participants
were divided about the strategy to be adopted by the liberation movements
of southern Africa and about the role that African states should play in the
58 Edmond Jouve
O A U . A s will be seen, organizations have often reacted sharply. For a long

time n o w the same has not been true of individual countries.
The power game
O n 10 M a y 1977 the South African Minister for Foreign Affairs said that
'relations between South Africa and the West have become very delicate'.
The same is n o w true also of the United States. During the cold war in the
early 1950s the Americans needed to stockpile South African uranium in
order to build up their nuclear arsenal. A s a result South Africa became one
of the first beneficiaries of the A t o m s for Peace co-operation.
The Republic of South Africa was thus able to acquire its first research
reactor, Safari I, which came into operation in 1965. A second reactor, Safari
II, was delivered three years later. T h e United States also supplied 120
kilograms of highly enriched uranium, and the O a k Ridge research centre
was thrown open to South African scientists. Gradually, however, the United
States began to be worried about the development of the situation in
southern Africa. In a letter dated 10 April 1969, Henry Kissinger asked a
team consisting mainly of members of the C I A to write a special report on
this part of the world. T h e report was to cover in particular 'the complete
range of strategies and political options open to the United States'. T h e
document produced by the team on 15 August 1969, National Security
M e m o r a n d u m 39 ( N S S M 39), is known as the Kissinger Report5 and has
inspired recent United States policy towards southern Africa. T h e United
States began playing for time. Thus on 4 September 1976 talks began in
Zurich between Kissinger and Vorster aimed atfindinga peaceful solution to
the problems of southern Africa; and these talks were later resumed in
Pretoria. A few months afterwards, in January 1977, American diplomacy hit
the headlines again. T h e United States Ambassador to the United Nations,
A n d r e w Young, said that the South African Government was illegal, thus
compelling the White House to issue a denial. A little later the United States
took a fresh initiative. O n 3 M a y 1977 President Carter sent Vice-President
Walter Móndale on a mission to Vorster in order to speed up the
development of southern Africa. N e w talks took place to this end. From 18
to 20 M a y 1977 Vorster and Móndale met in Vienna, and found that there
was still deep disagreement between them about the future development of
the apartheid regime. Faced with the intransigence of the South African
leaders, Móndale stated that the United States 'would not intervene in the
last resort to save South Africa from the consequences of its racial policy'.
Another warning shot followed on 1 July: Cyrus Vance, the Secretary of
State, informed the South African leaders that South Africa's relations with
the United States were bound to deteriorate if rapid progress were not m a d e
in Rhodesia, Namibia and South Africa. A new series of talks took place in
Pretoria in August 1977 between. O w e n and Young and several South

African leaders, until on 21 October 1977 the United States recalled their
ambassador in Pretoria for 'consultations' by way of a protest against the
intensification of repression.6 A few days later, Washington went a step
further by deciding, on 26 October 1977, to back a resolution of the United
Nations Security Council decreeing a complete embargo on arms for South
Africa. A t about the same time the National Association for the
Advancement of Coloured People ( N A A C P ) came out in favour of a
complete withdrawal of American interests in South Africa.
France for its part has established m a n y ties with Pretoria. During the
1960s and 1970s it even became, as a South African Minister put it, 'the
R S A ' s best friend'. B y dint of massive sales of ultramodern weapons and
technology, the French Government has enabled South Africa to set up an
industrial military complex. The first delivery of French arms goes back to
1961, w h e n South Africa purchased A M L - 6 0 and A M L - 9 0 armoured vehicles
and also machine-guns. T h e Republic of South Africa offered its raw
materials (gold and uranium) in exchange for the French military equipment.
France has also been a valuable ally in the diplomatic sphere. Its
representative used his veto at the United Nations to protect South Africa
against sanctions and even against a threat of expulsion in 1974. In 1976 a
delegation of parliamentarians belonging to the presidential majority
represented France at the celebration of the pseudo-independence of the
Transkei. Hence it is not surprising that co-operation between the two
countries should have grown. O n 29 M a y 1976 a consortium of French
companies sponsored by Electricité de France signed a contract with the
South African E S C O M (Energy Supply C o m p a n y ) for the building of two
nuclear power stations in South Africa. The O A U thereupon accused France
of giving South Africa crucial help in developing a nuclear deterrent. S o m e
months later, and for the first time ever, a French Minister for Foreign
Affairs stayed in southern Africa from 14 to 19 August 1977, a few months
after his British and American counterparts. O n that occasion France
subscribed to the main lines of the Western powers' n e w policy, namely to
support the independence of Zimbabwe and Namibia under majority rule
and to try to get South Africa to m o v e towards a democratic multiracial
regime. A s the situation in South Africa has deteriorated, France has taken
an increasingly hard line. T h e French Government, for instance, has never
recognized the independence either of Transkei or of Bophuthatswana.
Moreover it condemns the racial system with increasing severity. Thus on 20
September 1977 France subscribed to the 'code of conduct' that firms from
European Economic Community countries operating in South Africa will
have to follow. It also on voted 4 November 1977 for the Security Council
resolution instituting a complete embargo on arms sales to South Africa. O n
60 Edmond Jouve
8 November France even announced that in accordance with the 4 November

resolution it would not deliver the four ships under construction that had
been ordered by South Africa. Admittedly there is no official relationship
between France and the underground opposition in South Africa, but a
French diplomat did attend Steve Biko's funeral.
Other countries maintain special relationships with the Republic of
South Africa. O n e example is the Federal Republic of Germany, which
seems to have co-operated with Pretoria in the nuclear field. Another is
Israel. Since 1970, moreover, it is observable that a Pretoria-Paris-
Teheran-Tel Aviv axis has grown up in the nuclear field. France and Israel
supply the technology, Iran the oil and South Africa the uranium. In recent
years relations between Israel and South Africa have grown even closer, as
the following facts bear witness. O n 8 September 1976 a South African trade
mission went to Tel Aviv, and on 13 M a y 1977 the South African
Government announced that two major scientific agreements had been
concluded with Israel. A few months later Pik Botha, the South African
Minister for Foreign Affairs, went to Israel, and in February 1978 it was the
turn of the South African Minister of Finance to visit Israel.
It m a y even happen that representatives of Western countries come
together to adopt a c o m m o n approach to the problems posed by South
Africa. Thus on 7 April 1977 a joint démarche was m a d e to Vorster by the
ambassadors of France, the United Kingdom, Canada, the United States and
the Federal Republic of Germany on the subject of Namibia. A s a result
negotiations about the future of Namibia were started in Pretoria on 22
September 1977 between these parties. O n 30 September 1977 South Africa
accepted an offer by the five above-mentioned countries to take part in
continuing negotiations about a constitutional settlement of the Namibian
problem in N e w York, starting on 17 January 1978. These negotiations were
to continue for a long time: in particular, Botha and the representatives of
the Five were to meet in Cape T o w n on 17 M a y 1978 to discuss once more the
possibility of a negotiated settlement in Namibia.
Let us n o w turn to relationships between the Republic of South Africa
and the rest of Africa. It is commonplace that since the independence of the
Portuguese colonies, South Africa is no longer so well protected. It is no
longer insulated by Mozambique and Angola as in the past. 'The only thing
that concerns us,' Vorster said on this topic, 'is that these two countries
should not be used as springboards against us. Moreover, they have assured
us to this effect, and if they maintain this attitude all will be well.' In fact
Pretoria's intervention in Mozambique's affairs during the transitional period
was noticeable. 'Co-operation' between the two countries has continued. A s
for Angola, the Republic of South Africa on 25 January 1976 withdrew the
troops it had committed deep inside the country. They have since been used
only for the protection of the Namibian border. A s regards Namibia and
Z i m b a b w e , m a n y talks have taken place attended by the top South African
leaders, and have been preceded or followed by a variety of political stands.
Thus on 2 M a y 1977 Vorster reaffirmed that South Africa would exert no
economic or military pressure on Rhodesia. O n 12 August of the same year
the South African leaders announced that they would m a k e no more
concessions as regards Namibia and that they would remain opposed to any
pressure on Rhodesia. O n 24 September 1977 Botha rejected as 'totally
unacceptable' the Western plan for the South African forces in Namibia to be
placed under United Nations control. Lastly, on 30 January 1978 Vorster
came out in favour of an internal settlement in Rhodesia. At the same time
he rejected direct negotiations with S W A P O about Namibia. O n the
following 2 M a y the Republic of South Africa asked the M e m b e r States of
the United Nations to secure Namibia's peaceful accession to independence
in accordance with the terms of the settlement plan put forward by the five
Western powers. This plan, which the United Nations Secretary-General
presented on 29 August 1978, summarizes the conclusions of the mission
undertaken by Martti Ahtissari, Kurt Waldheim's representative in Namibia.
It outlined the various stages to be observed in order to create favourable
conditions for the holding of genuinely free and democratic elections leading
to the setting up of a constituent assembly, which would in turn settle the
date of independence. It provides for the presence of United Nations forces
and for a seven-month transitional period before the elections. At least two
gaps are apparent in this plan: nothing is said about Walvis Bay 7 and the
nature of the relationship between Judge Steyn, Administrator-General of
South Africa, and the United Nations is left vague. In the end the South
African authorities declared themselves opposed to this plan, thus replying
with a counter-challenge to the challenge the international community had
faced them with.
In November 1974 the Prime Minister of South Africa remarked to members

of Parliament: 'South Africa is at the parting of the ways, and must n o w
choose between peace and the escalation of the conflict.' H e added: 'Give
South Africa six to twelve months and you will be surprised at what she has
achieved!' Nothing m u c h came of this promise. T h e diplomatic offensive
launched by Vorster had only limited success. The 'dialogue' changed course
abruptly. T h e regime became more repressive. Black Africa is too divided
and too weak to contemplate a general confrontation. Nevertheless,South
Africa is preparing for some such eventuality, in particular by building up its
military arsenal to a considerable degree. This situation is also inevitably
having financial repercussions. T h e defence budget for 1977 was 1,800
million rands.8 Moreover, in April 1977 military service for whites was
62 Edmond Jouve
extended to two years. O n the day after this decision was taken it was
announced that a new air base was to be set up in south-west Transvaal, near
Mozambique. A s to the South African nuclear deterrent, it was responsible
for the taking of various stands. O n 22 February 1977 an official communiqué
denied rumours that South Africa might become a nuclear power. A few
months later Botha described as false Soviet statements that Pretoria was
developing nuclear weapons. Nevertheless, the Minister of Finance stated on
30 August 1977 that South Africa was entitled to use its nuclear potential as
it wished. A n d while the event was in the making, on 11 November 1977 the
government brought back into force the 1970 law authorizing the requisition
of the private sector for purposes of national defence.
Thus violence is everywhere, and everybody is preparing for an
explosion. T h e younger generation of black writers are also confronted with
this phenomenon, and their work bears witness to it. This is true of Ezekeil
Mphalele, author of the novel At the Bottom of Second Avenue. It is true also
of Dennis Brutus, author of Sirens, Knuckles, Boots, Letters to Martha and A
Simple Lust. The actor and playwright C o s m o Pieterse, for his part, sets out
to m a k e k n o w n South African poets in exile, including Bessie Head, w h o has
been living in Botswana since 1964. Thus from n o w on there are writers on
the spot to h y m n the long march of a people w h o , having long suffered in
silence, have decided to take up arms against the most formidable of their
foes.
Notes
1. O n 29 September 1978 J. B . Vorster (in power since 1966) was elected President of the
Republic by a special session of Parliament held in Cape T o w n .
2. D . Breillat, 'Vers des changements institutionnels après les élections du 30 novembre 1977
en Afrique du Sud', Pouvoirs, N o . 5, 1978, p. 167.
3. R . Lefort, 'La Conscience noire, de la non-violence à l'interdiction', Le Monde
diplomatique, November 1977.
4. For further details see: E . Jouve, Relations internationales du Tiers Monde, Paris, Éditions
Berger-Levrault, 1976.
5. The gist of this document was published in B . Cohen and B . Schissel, Afrique australe, de
Kissinger à Carter, Paris, Éditions de l'Harmattan, 1977.
6. T h e ambassador returned to his post on 6 November 1977.
7. A decree of 1 September 1977 repealed the 1922 Act placing the Walvis Bay enclave under
the administration of South West Africa and attached the enclave to the Cape Province
of South Africa.
8. In 1977/78 the defence budget rose by 21.3 per cent.
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African Studies Institute, 1977.
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C E R V E N K A , Z . ; R O G E R S , B . The Nuclear Axis. London, Julian Freedman Books, 1978.
C O H E N , B . ; SCHISSEL, H . Afrique australe de Kissinger à Carter. Paris, Éditions de l'Harmattan,
1977.
C O R N E V I N , M . L'Afrique du Sud en sursis. Paris, Hachette, 1977.
D A V E N P O R T , T . R . H . South Africa. London, Macmillan, 1977.
D A V I D S O N , B . ; W I L K I N S O N , A . Southern Africa: The New Politics of Revolution. Harmonds-
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D E N O O N , D . Southern Africa Since 1800. London, Longman, 1972.
FIRST, R . ; STEELE, J.; G U R N E Y , C . The Southern African Connection: Western Investment in
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J O H N S T O N E , F. A . Class, Race and Gold: A Study of Class Relations and Racial Discrimination in
South Africa. London, Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1976.
K E S T E R G A T , J. 25 millions de Sud-Africains, malades de l'apartheid. Paris/Brussels, Elsevier,
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L A C H A R T E , B . Luttes ouvrières et libération en Afrique du Sud. Paris, Syros, 1977.
L E F O R T , R . L'Afrique du Sud: histoire d'une crise. Paris, F. Maspero, 1977.
L E M O N , A . Apartheid: A Geography of Separation. Westmead, Saxon House, 1976.
L E S O U R D , J. A . La République d'Afrique du Sud. Paris, Presses Universitaires de France, 1963.
L E V E R , H . The South African Voter. Cape T o w n , Juta & C o . , 1972.
L I M P , W . Anatomie de l'apartheid. Paris, Casterman, 1972.
N O L U T S H U N G U , S. C . South Africa in Africa. Manchester, Manchester University Press, 1975.
S A U N D E R S , C ; D E R R I C O U R T , R . (eds.). Beyond the Cape Frontier: Studies in the History of the
Transkei and Ciskei. London, Longman, 1974.
S T O C K H O L M I N T E R N A T I O N A L P E A C E R E S E A R C H INSTITUTE. Southern Africa: the Escalation of a
Conflict. A Politico-Military Study. N e w York, Praeger, 1976.
T H I O N , S. Le pouvoir pâle. Paris, Éditions du Seuil, 1969.
V A I L L A N T , F. Poètes noirs de l'Afrique du Sud. Paris, Éditions Présence Africaine, 1975.
W E R E , G . S. A History of South Africa. London, Evans Brothers, 1974.
ZIEGLER, J. Main basse sur l'Afrique. Paris, Éditions du Seuil, 1978.
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Afrique du Sud: les équivoques de la détente. Civilizations (Brussels), Vol. XXVII, 1977, p. 3.
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Salaam, United Republic of Tanzania.
Apartheid, Afrique du Sud. Nigeria demain, August 1977 (special number).
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Éditions Berger-Levrault, 1978.
B O U R D E T , C . O ù serait aujourd'hui l'Afrique du Sud sans la France? Le Monde diplomatique
(Paris), April 1976.
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BREILLAT, D . Vers des changements institutionnels après les élections du 30 novembre 1977 en
Afrique du Sud. Pouvoirs, 1978, N o . 5, p. 167.
C A D O U X , C . Apartheid. Encyclopaedia Universalis, Vol. 2, p. 134, Paris, Éditions de
l'Encyclopaedia Universalis, 1968.
D E C R A E N E , P. L a république sud-africaine au point de non-retour. Le Monde (Paris), 13-18
August 1975.
. U n réquisitoire contre l'apartheid. Le Monde (Paris), 19-20 October 1975.
G L É L É , M . La Déclaration d'Alger et l'Afrique. In: A . Cassese and E . Jouve (eds.), Pour un
droit des peuples, p. 203. Paris, Berger-Levrault, 1978.
H U T M A N , T . ; K R A M E R , R . Le poids des investissements américains en Afrique du Sud. Le Monde
diplomatique (Paris), June 1978.
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Édition de l'Encyclopaedia Universalis, 1976.
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Jouve, op. cit., p. 105.
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Berger-Levrault, 1976.
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(Paris), November 1977.
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July 1977.
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V O R S T E R , J. Interview exclusive. Le Figaro (Paris), 26 March 1975.
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May 1977.
Z i m b a b w e : the Internal Settlement
in historical perspective
David Chanaiwa
This study provides historical perspectives on the current Internal

Settlement agreed upon on 3 March 1978 by Ndabaningi Sithole, founding
president of the Z i m b a b w e African National Union ( Z A N U ) ; Bishop Abel
M u z o r e w a , founding president of the United African National Council
( U A N C ) ; Senior Chief Jeremiah Chirau, president of the Z i m b a b w e African
Peoples' Organization ( Z A P O ) ; and Ian Douglas Smith, the Prime
Minister.1 It is important for scholars, as well as layman supporters,
protagonists and observers, to understand the historical antecedents, because
in reality the Internal Settlement is essentially the climax (or anticlimax) of a
prolonged, faction-stricken, nationalist struggle against settler colonialism in
the British colony of Southern Rhodesia. The settlement should be analysed
primarily in relation to the politico-military climate of the settler colonial
society from which it evolved. W h e n w e put it in its cultural-historical context
and in juxtaposition to the settler interests and institutions that it is
attempting to replace, then w e perhaps can understand w h y the African
nationalists behaved the w a y they did.
W e shall attempt therefore to probe beyond the optimistic claims and
promises currently being m a d e in Salisbury by the signatories, as well as the
anti-settlement rhetoric of the out-manoeuvered Patriotic Front exiles, to
discover the truth about the Internal Settlement. In particular, w e shall
investigate the historical roles of ideology, factionalism, personality clashes
and military action in the liberation struggle in Z i m b a b w e . T h e author is
aware that in a discussion of contemporary and especially emotive,
controversial issues like the Internal Settlement, there is a risk of being
misconstrued and, thus of stepping on somebody's toes. Nevertheless, it is
hope that this account will be of some use to the various parties and points of
view deeply involved in the controversy.
The Internal Settlement in detail

After three months of negotiations, Sithole, M u z o r e w a , Chirau and Smith
finally agreed upon: (a) African majority rule based on universal adult
66 David Chanaiwa
suffrage; (b) an African Independence D a y on 31 December 1978; (c)

removal of racialist legislation and practices; (d) a Bill of Rights; (e) a 100
m e m b e r Parliament of which 72 would be Africans, 28 whites; (f) a
Transitional Government, consisting of an Executive Council and a
Ministerial Council, under which Africans and Europeans would share power
equally.2
T h e agreement stipulates: 'There will be a c o m m o n voters' roll, with all
citizens of 18 years and over being eligible for registration as voters, subject
to certain recognized disqualifications'.3 It further stipulates :
There will be a justiciable Declaration of Rights which will protect the rights and
freedoms of individuals and, inter alia, will provide for protection from deprivation of
property unless adequate compensation is paid promptly, and for protection of
pensionrightsof persons who are members of pension funds.4
Section E of the agreement states that Independence D a y shall be 31
December 1978. These stipulations, together with the stated duties of the
power-sharing Transitional Government, generally were perceived by the
signatories as major European concessions to the African nationalists. For
instance, adult suffrage w a s lowered from 21 to 18 years in order to
accommodate the youths ' w h o have been doing the fighting'.
T h e signatories agreed that the Transitional Government would be
responsible for the release of political detainees, for the review of sentences
of political prisoners, the removal of racial discrimination, for working out a
cease-fire, and for rehabilitating victims of the war. It would also be
responsible for drafting the Z i m b a b w e a n Constitution in accordance with the
agreement, for organizing voter registration with a view to holding 'free and
democratic' elections at the earliest possible date, and for providing a climate
conducive to political campaigning and fair elections.5
They agreed that the Transitional Government would be comprised of
an Executive Council and a Ministerial Council. T h e Executive Council
consists of Sithole, M u z o r e w a , Chirau and Smith, w h o take turns in chairing
the meetings 'in such sequence and for such period as that Council m a y
determine'. A s stated, ' T h e Executive Council will be responsible for
ensuring that the functions given to, and the duties imposed o n , the
Transitional Government. . . are dealt with as expeditiously as possible.'6 The
Council is the policy- and decision-making body of the Transitional
Government, and it reaches its decisions by consensus. It m a y refer matters
to and review decisions and recommendations by the Ministerial Council.
T h e Ministerial Council consists of an African and a European minister
for each portfolio. T h e European partners are appointed in equal shares by
Sithole, M u z o r e w a and Chirau. T h e chairmanship alternates between an
African and a European minister according to the sequence and duration
Zimbabwe: the Internal Settlement 67
determined by the Ministerial Council. The black/white ministerial partners

for each portfolio, or group of portfolios, share responsibility and operate
according to the cabinet system. They jointly initiate legislation, supervise
the preparation of legislation recommended by the Executive Council and
implement Executive Council decisions applicable to their departments. T h e
whole Ministerial Council also makes recommendations to the Executive
Council 'on any other matter it thinks fit', and it reaches its decisions by a
simple majority, subject to review by the Executive Council.7
Furthermore, the present Rhodesian Parliament will remain intact
during the life of the Transitional Government, but can convene only at the
request of the Executive Council, to pass laws deemed necessary for
facilitating the transition. That Parliament will be responsible for enacting
legislation for the registration of voters, for the removal of racial
discrimination, approval of the 1978/79 budget and the new Constitution and
nomination of the sixteen candidates for eight of the twenty-eight seats
reserved for Europeans.
The most controversial aspects of the Internal Settlement are those
dealing with the Legislative Assembly, the Judiciary and Civil Service, as
well as the 'protection from deprivation of property unless adequate
compensation is paid promptly' clause of the Bill of Rights. The signatories
agreed upon a 100-member Legislative Assembly, 72 of w h o m will be
Africans elected by all eligible African, white, coloured and Asian voters
enrolled on the c o m m o n roll, and 28 will be Europeans representing whites,
coloureds and Asians. 8 Twenty of the twenty-eight Europeans will be elected
on a preferential voting system by European voters enrolled on the c o m m o n
roll. T h e remaining eight will be elected by all eligible African, white,
coloured, and Asian voters from sixteen candidates nominated by the current
Rhodesian Parliament for the forthcoming election (1978), and by the
twenty-eight Europeans' M P s for the second general election (1983).
These reserved European seats shall be entrenched for 'a period of at
least ten years or two Parliaments, whichever is the longer'. At that time, the
African government in power shall appoint a Commission, to be chaired by a
judge of the High Court, which will review the situation. B y then,
amendment to the Constitution will require a simple majority of the
legislative Assembly. Prior to ten years, the twenty-eight seats can be
abolished by a constitutional amendment 'receiving the affirmative votes of
not less than seventy-eight members' of Parliament. T h e agreement further
stipulates that the twenty-eight m e m b e r s 'will be prohibited from forming a
coalition with any single (African) minority party for the purpose of forming
a Government'. 9
This issue of white parliamentary representation was indeed the most
difficult and controversial item throughout the negotiations.10 T h e signa-
68 David Chanaiwa
tories were quite conscious of the contradiction between the principles of

majority rule, universal adult suffrage and non-racialism and entrenched
white representation. Both the Sithole and Muzorewa delegations strongly
objected to racial representation because it 'smacks of racial discrimination
in an independent African state based on one m a n one vote' and because it
maintains 'an independent European community in an independent African
state'.11 A t first they were hoping to accommodate the Smith delegation by
means of the safeguards pertaining to the Bill of Rights, the Judiciary and
Civil Service. However, it soon became apparent that they had to reconcile
their commitment to non-racialism, universal suffrage and African majority
rule with an equal European commitment to special representation and
protection under majority rule.
The Smith delegation was very adamant about white representation as
a 'confidence builder'. They pointed out that whites were very apprehensive
about majority rule and adult suffrage, both of which 'are quite revolutionary
concepts to the white m a n ' . Since they had endorsed 'the revolution of
majority black rule', they needed safeguards to retain 'white confidence'.
' W e [whites] concede majority rule by adult suffrage in return for one-third
white representation in Parliament,' they insisted. They talked of 'fears of
whites of the u n k n o w n black rule' and of 'a great unknown' future. Smith
claimed that the majority of the whites wanted a 50/50 representation, and
that he had persuaded them to settle for a one-third blocking mechanism,
which was the barest m i n i m u m he could accept. H e and Chief Chirau, w h o
apparently harbours deep fears of African majority rule and, especially, of
the freedom fighters, wanted thirty-three reserved seats to be elected only by
the Europeans.
A s a compromise, Sithole proposed twenty seats to be elected by
Europeans only for the first parliament, orfiveyears. H e also proposed that
removal of the twenty seats before five years would require an amendment
by 84 of the 100 M P s . M u z o r e w a proposed thirty-three seats to be elected by
all eligible African and European voters, and a two-thirds majority to amend
the Constitution. H e strongly objected to an all-European election because
of his commitment to the 'fundamental principle of a non-racial system'. In
the end, the signatories agreed to what one delegate appropriately called the
'Whitestan policy' of the twenty-eight reserved seats.
The signatories further agreed on what they referred to as basic
national safeguards: namely, the bill of rights, and independence and
security of tenure for the judiciary, the public (civil) service board, the civil
service, police force, defence forces, and prison service. They stipulated
that 'pensions which are payable from the Consolidated Revenue Fund
(Retirement Fund) will be guaranteed and charged on the Consolidated
Revenue Fund and will be remittable outside the country'.12 They also
agreed that 'citizens w h o at present are entitled to dual citizenship will not be
deprived of their present entitlement'.13 These safeguards and the twenty-
eight seats were to be entrenched provisions for the first ten years of majority
rule, to be amended only by a bill that receives a 78 majority of the
100-member Parliament.
Reaction to the Internal Settlement

T h e opponents of the Internal Settlement generally share a c o m m o n
psychological consensus of suspicion that the agreement was another one of
Smith's treacheries and shrewdnesses, and that Sithole and M u z o r e w a
were unwittingly duped into selling the Z i m b a b w e a n liberation struggle
d o w n the drain. They dismiss the agreement as 'false decolonization' and as a
neat 'neo-colonialist arrangement'. They quickly point to the entrenched
twenty-eight European seats, bill of rights, judiciary, public service board,
pensions and dual citizenship as concrete evidence of the neo-colonialist
manoeuvres to create a socio-economic atmosphere conducive to continued
settler exploitation of the Z i m b a b w e a n masses under the disguise of majority
rule. They argue that white settlers and their neo-colonialist allies have
finally realized the effect of the armed struggle, of sanctions, white emigration,
and political uncertainty upon the economy—all of which have diminished
capitalist investment in Z i m b a b w e . Consequently, they have decided to
overcome political uncertainty by a seemingly radical transfer of power to
Africans that in reality consolidates the settlers' economic position. These
critics prefer a total revolutionary demolition of the edifices of the settler
society.
Predictably, the most vociferous attacks have been m a d e by the
Patriotic Front, the front-line states, and the Organization of African Unity.
Both Joshua N k o m o and Robert M u g a b e , the co-leaders of the Patriotic
Front, have denounced the agreement as 'the biggest sell-out in African
history' and as a 'political and legal swindle'.14 They have vowed tofighto n
until 'total military victory'. They have characterized it as 'completely bogus'
because it 'leaves both political and military power in the hands of the settler
minority'.15 They particularly claim that the settlement 'perpetuates minority
rule for another ten years or possibly twenty or sixty years' and that the
projected general election 'would be impractical undemocratic, and can only
be conducted under the canopy of the Smith regime'.
Diplomatically, the Patriotic Front has lobbied heavily at the United
Nations and in African capitals against international recognition of the
Internal Settlement, the projected majority rule and the lifting of economic
sanctions, in order to weaken the Transitional Government, the Z i m -
70 David Chanaiwa
babwean economy and, thus, sabotage the settlement. They first advocated a
British transfer of power directly to N k o m o and M u g a b e on the disputable
premise that they alone have been conducting the armed struggle. Lately
they are advocating another Geneva-type all-party conference, based on the
Anglo-American formula, to work out a new agreement in which they will be
fully involved. Failing that, they are threatening a convulsion more
catastrophic than the Angolan civil war.
Second only to the Patriotic Front in denouncing the agreement have
been the African presidents of the front-line states, especially Kenneth
Kaunda of Zambia. Retrospectively, their strategic positions as host
countries of the freedomfightershave tempted them to apply neo-colonialist-
type intervention in Zimbabwean nationalist politics.16 They literally
blackmailed all the factions to unite under the umbrella of Muzorewa's
African National Council and leadership in December 1974, and to attend
the infamous Victoria Falls conference aboard a South African train in 1975.
They patronized the formation of the Z i m b a b w e Peoples' A r m y (ZIPA) in
1976 and barred all the politicians from entering the military camps in
Mozambique and the United Republic of Tanzania to counter the
factionalism and ineffectiveness of the political leadership. At present, they
are working on behalf of the Patriotic Front to pressure the United
Kingsdom, the United States and the signatories of the Internal Settlement
into holding an all-party conference on the basis of the Anglo-American
formula.
Historically, decisions by front-line states to recognize and support one
faction over the others often have determined the life span and viability of
most factions outside Z i m b a b w e . For instance, it is c o m m o n knowledge
that the Patriotic Front came into existence in October 1976 on the advent of
the Geneva Conference, primarily through the pressure and good offices of
the front-line presidents, particularly Kaunda, in order to strengthen
N k o m o ' s chances of becoming the first president of the then projected
independent Z i m b a b w e . N k o m o , the president of Z A P U , then joined with
M u g a b e , then the secretary-general of Z A N U , as co-leader of the Patriotic
Front. So far, N k o m o and M u g a b e have failed to resolve the issue of which of
them is to be the president or vice-president of the Patriotic Front, and they
have failed to unite their private armies.
However, the front-line states and the O A U legally recognized N k o m o
and M u g a b e , the Patriotic Front and their respective Z I P R A and Z A N L A
armies as the sole spokesmen of the Zimbabwean masses. The front-line
states have applied 'big stick diplomacy' to ostracize and undermine Sithole
and Muzorewa in the O A U and at the United Nations. Consequently,
Sithole and Muzorewa have good reasons for resentment and hostility, if not
vengeance, towards the front-line states, especially Zambia and M o z a m -
bique. The front-line presidents also have ample reasons for apprehension over
the Internal Settlement and the projected majority rule by 1 January 1979,
because of their past insults against Sithole and M u z o r e w a . 1 7 Undoubtedly, if
Kaunda and Machel support the Patriotic Front in an armed struggle against
the Internal Settlement, and especially against an independent Z i m b a b w e ,
Sithole and Muzorewa will escalate the war onto Zambian and Mozambican
soil. Realistically, both the Zambian and Mozambican armies would be easily
wiped out by the Zimbabwean army. A s Muzorewa has stated, ' N o one
[Zambia, Mozambique or Patriotic Front] can win fighting against
Z i m b a b w e . They could have w o n fighting Smith in the past, but not against
Zimbabwe.18
A s reported in Africa Confidential, Sithole actually prefers military
confrontation to square his historic rivalry with N k o m o :
I get messages from m y people. They say let him do it [civil war], and personally I
think that would be the easiest and quickest way to solve the problem of Joshua—by
direct confrontation.19
W h e n warned by O w e n that N k o m o is like 'the D u k e of Wellington [sic] w h o
has marched his m e n up the hill just to c o m e d o w n without them', Sithole
immediately corrected O w e n : ' N o , that is not so. It is I w h o have m y m e n up
the hill. After all, m y m e n have borne the brunt of the war while his m e n
have stayed in the valley—Lusaka.'20
Implicitly, Sithole also will fight any front-line state that supports the
Patriotic Front.
Ironically, Zambia, which has taken the toughtest anti-settlement
position, is the weakest of the front-line states. Domestically, its economy is
crippled while political unrest is increasing. There is a severe shortage of
maize and wheat. Pre-emptive air strikes by Z i m b a b w e upon Patriotic Front
bases in the heavily populated districts of Barotseland and Livingstone would
devastate both the population and the agricultural base of the country, and
probably destroy whatever remains of the Zambians' confidence in their o w n
government. Kaunda, w h o is at present one of Africa's most pro-West
presidents, would have to rely on Soviet—Cuban or Chinese soldiers and
military hardware. Obviously, he would face presssures from these socialist
countries to adopt radical socio-economic policies in return for support, at a
time w h e n his neo-colonialist economy is in deep trouble.
Both Zambia and Mozambique also have hot potatoes in their hands in
the form of the Patriotic Front. Zambia is faced with a fast-growing,
better-trained and better-armed foreign army on its soil, which is loyal to
N k o m o , 'a head without a state'. There is a possibility of the Lebanese-
P L O equation, whereby Zambia and Mozambique would not be able to evict
the Patriotic Front exile armies even if they decided to in their o w n national
72 David Chanaiwa
interests. Besides, N k o m o and M u g a b e themselves m a y eventually engage

each other in a military s h o w d o w n o n Z a m b i a n / M o z a m b i e a n soil to resolve
their impasse over the leadership of the Patriotic Front.
T h e United K i n g d o m and the United States have expressed concern
over the Internal Settlement, primarily because of the international outcry
from the United Nations, where the Security Counci[ has declared 'illegal
and unacceptable any internal settlement under the auspices of the illegal
regime', and from Africa. They are afraid that the agreement m a y not be
internationally acceptable and m a y not e n 3 economic sanctions against
Z i m b a b w e , because it excluded the Patriotic Front. They foresee the
possibility of a civil war between the externally based armies of the Patriotic
Front, fighting separately from Z a m b i a ( N k o m o ) and M o z a m b i q u e ( M u -
gabe), and the internally based Z i m b a b w e army. They are particularly afraid
that the Patriotic Front and the front-line states will invite Soviet—Cuban
soldiers into southern Africa, and thus precipitate a world-wide confronta-
tion that will spill over into South Africa.
Consequently, L o n d o n and Washington are advocating another
Geneva-type all-party conference that will produce constitutional ar-
rangments that will protect settler-minority rights and allow for a peaceful
and stable majority rule. Their major objective is to devise a stratagem that
will prevent a Soviet-Cuban intervention o n the side of the Patriotic Front,
by forging an Anglo-American constitution to which all the African
nationalists of Z i m b a b w e will agree. T h e agreement will then facilitate an
African neo-colonialist inheritance of the white settlers' socio-economic
structure without a civil war.
Failing the all-party conference, L o n d o n and Washington would prefer
a N k o m o - M u z o r e w a coalition against Sithole and M u g a b e , on the precarious
assertion that ' N k o m o has the guns and n o people while M u z o r e w a has the
people and n o guns'. T h e y are also persuading Sithole and M u z o r e w a into
accomodating N k o m o into the Internal Settlement. O w e n told Sithole:
W e are not rigid. I don't rule out accepting the internal talks if you did exclude the
external nationalists, provided there had been an effort to include at least Joshua. . . .
I a m not saying that it is absolutely necessary for the P.F. to be in. That would be giving
them a veto. W e must make a more genuine effort to include them. This is why I have
never condemned the internal talks. I think it is a very important step in the right
direction.21
O w e n also assured Sithole not to worry about the 'noise [civil war] that he
[ N k o m o a ] m a k e s ' , because 'he n o w wants direct negotiations with Smith o n
the Anglo-American proposals', but 'his problem is that he cannot be seen to
be breaking from Robert M u g a b e before he gets a concrete offer'.22
T h e Internal Settlement in practice

A s of n o w , the Transitional Government is nearly three months old and
functioning as well as could be expected in any dual exercise of political
power and authority by the colonizer and the colonized. T h e Ministerial
Council consists of nine African and nine European partners. T h e pairing has
produced some old political couples, making personality clashes and tensions
inevitable. For instance, defence is shared by John Kadzviti (Sithole's
appointee), an experienced Z A N U field c o m m a n d e r of the armed struggle,
and Roger Hawkins, a white conservative. Such tensions in the sensitive
portfolios of justice, law and order, and public service led to the celebrated
resignation of Bryon H o v e (Muzorewa's appointee). Sithole's appointees
share defence, foreign affairs, information, immigration, agriculture, and
tourism. Muzorewa's share finance, commerce and industry, transport and
power, mines, roads and traffic, posts, justice, law and order, and public
service. Chirau's share education, health, m a n p o w e r and social affairs, water
development, lands, natural resources and rural development, internal
affairs, local government, housing and works.
T h e Transitional Government has already implemented most of its
charges except the general election and independence celebrations. It has
already released over 90 per cent of the estimated 1,000 political detainees
w h o have been languishing in gaol as 'security risks' under the notorious L a w
and Order Maintenance Act. 2 3 It has stopped execution of political prisoners
on death row at the Salisbury Central Prison. T h e Executive Council has
appointed a commission to work out a cease-fire with the freedomfighters.It
has granted amnesty to the cadres w h o want to retire or to join the projected
Zimbabwean national army. It has dismantled the notorious Selous Scouts,
the Grey Scouts, and the Special Air Service units that had been created by
Smith to carry out acts of terrorism and sabotage against the mass supporters
of the freedom fighters. T h e Executive Council has also agreed upon a list of
officers in Smith's army, including the controversial Major-General Walls of
the H o v e affair, w h o are to be retired. Sithole and M u z o r e w a are already
arranging for the return of their o w n soldiers and commissioned officers, w h o
have been training in several foreign countries, so that they can be integrate a
them into the Zimbabwean army, which is already 82 per cent African
Politically, the Executive Council has lifted Smith's restrictions on
political activities, has drawn up the electoral districts and registered over 3.5
million African voters for the forthcoming general election. Individually and
jointly, Sithole and M u z o r e w a are going around the country telling the
masses to support the settlement, register to vote, and prepare for a peaceful
election. Their expectations are that once they have conducted a successful
74 David Chanaiwa
general election and established a majority-rule government, international

recognition and lifting of sanctions will soon follow.
Sithole and M u z o r e w a , the main targets a m o n g the quadrumvirate
which N k o m o and M u g a b e pejoratively call 'The G a n g of Four' have insisted
that the Internal Settlement is 'the best and final plan' for securing a
relatively peaceful transition to African majority rule under one-person
one-vote. Their sentiments were expressed amply by George Nyandoro, a
veteran nationalist leader, once a staunch lieutenant of N k o m o under the
African National Congress, the National Democratic Party, and Z A P U , and
n o w the Secretary of Foreign Affairs in Muzorewa's U A N C :
Our agreement provides a relatively painless way for our people to achieve majority
rule. Substantively, we have achieved a formula that supersedes what Africa wanted
us to accept at Victoria Falls, in the Nkomo-Smith talks of 1976 and at Geneva. 24
They quickly point out that under negotiations, as opposed to a total military
victory that would have given them the right to dictate terms, they had to
accomodate some of the fundamental demands of the other delegations as
best they could. Instead, they agreed to what they considered to be 'a
balanced and fair package in which, though no delegation achieved all their
demands, everyone saw hope for the future.25
They attach no particular significance to the figure twenty-eight of the
European seats, because 'a blocking mechanism is a blocking mechanism
whether you do it with one, five or thirty-three seats'. Instead they emphasize
that the measure is only temporary and that if African M e m b e r s of
Parliament work together they can easily amend the Constitution early next
year. They also quickly remind us that the guarantee of tenure and
independence of the judiciary, civil service, and defence forces and of
retirement benefits to civil servants was stipulated in every other negotiated
settlement in the former British colonies across Africa, including G h a n a ,
Kenya, Zambia, Botswana and the United Republic of Tanzania. In fairness
to the signatories, any wholesale confiscation of pensions would not only
have caused an exodus of civil servants, but would also have established an
image of bad faith and bad statesmanship that would, in turn, undermine the
future African government's borrowing power in the international monetary
system for a country that will need foreign aid to recover from the ravages of
war and sanctions. With regard to dual citizenship, they point out that,
according to the British Nationality Act (1964), any citizen of the United
Kingdom and Colonies w h o acquires the citizenship of another m e m b e r of
the Commonwealth is entitled to regain United Kingdom citizenship at any
time.
Both Sithole and M u z o r e w a have always been contemptuous of the
Patriotic Front and front-line states. They perceive the whole N k o m o /
M u g a b e affair as a political marriage of convenience imposed upon the

Zimbabwean people by the front-line presidents, especially Kaunda, w h o
according to Sithole wants 'to see M r N k o m o become the first president'.26
They treat the N k o m o / M u g a b e diplomatic manoeuvres and threats of civil
war as mostly the bravado and propaganda of desperate losers in the historic
factionalism and power-struggle of the Zimbabwean nationalist movement.
They dismiss as fatuous and irresponsible those w h o advocate a British
transfer of power to N k o m o and M u g a b e on what they call 'the fictitious
argument' that the Patriotic Front has been conducting the armed struggle.
Sithole, in particular, argues that he has been the president of Z A N U which
inaugurated the armed struggle in the 1960s, when N k o m o was the
moderate, rejecting violence.27 H e quickly points out that N k o m o attempted
his o w n internal settlement with Smith in 1974 and 1976, in which he not only
m a d e less extensive demands than Sithole and Muzorewa have, but also
manipulated the exclusion of Sithole, Muzorewa, M u g a b e and the freedom
fighters from those negotiations. A s Muzorewa stated, to them, those
outsiders w h o believe the N k o m o / M u g a b e 'propaganda' simply do not
understand 'the dynamics of Zimbabwean polities'.
Both Sithole and Muzorewa, and even Chirau and Smith, have derided
N k o m o and M u g a b e for being, according to Sithole, 'so m u c h afraid of free
elections that they have become, what you say, the fly in the ointment, or in
the oil'.28 They perceive the Patriotic Front's refusal to participate in the
projected general election as political opportunism stemming from N k o m o ' s
realization that he lacks popular support. They argue that the whole armed
struggle has been waged for the goal of majority rule based on universal adult
suffrage, and that therefore the masses, w h o have shared in the fighting and
suffering and have endured the dangers and deprivations of life in the
so-called protected villages, should have the right to choose their type of
leadership and government. They believe that it would be politically and
morally wrong for the British to impose the Patriotic Front faction over the
other factions, and especially over the masses, without 'democratic'
elections. They point out that their Internal Settlement guarantees freedom
of political activities for all factions, and promises an election in which the
Transitional Government will have a strong incentive to see to it that the
greatest number of Africans participate peacefully and fairly, in order to gain
international recognition on 1 January 1979.
T h e Internal Settlement in historical perspective
W e n o w shall provide some of the historical background of the current

Zimbabwean political crisis. A s a starter, it is important for the reader to
76 David Chanaiwa
appreciate the fact that until 1964 N k o m o , Sithole, and M u g a b e were close
comrades in the National Democratic Party ( N D P ) and its successor, the
Zimbabwe African People's Union ( Z A P U ) ; and that from 1964 to 1974
Sithole and M u g a b e were the president and secretary-general, respectively,
of Z A N U , which broke away from Z A P U . R e m e m b e r that James
Chikerema and George Nyandoro, w h o are now among the leadingfiguresin
Muzorewa's U N A C and arch-rivals of N k o m o and M u g a b e , were once very
loyal lieutenants of N k o m o in the African National Congress, the N D P , and
Z A P U and arch-rivals of Sithole's and Mugabe's Z A N U . Also remember
that N k o m o , Sithole, M u g a b e , Chikerema, Nyandoro and their respective
subordinates all agreed to abandon their Z A P U , Z A N U , and F R O L I Z I
factions and unite under the African National Council and Muzorewa's
leadership under the Lusaka Declaration 7 December 1974 but have
subsequently resumed their old factions and rivalries.
With respect to negotiations, N k o m o attempted to negotiate unilateral-
ly a settlement with the same Ian Smith in late 1975 and early 1976, when
Sithole and Muzorewa were exiled in Ghana and Mozambique, respectively,
during which he offered terms less beneficial to the African masses than
those in the Internal Settlement. Together, N k o m o , M u g a b e , Sithole and
Muzorewa attended the abortive Victoria Falls Conference sponsored by
South Africa's J. B . Vorster and the front-line states, and the unproductive
Geneva talks. N o w they have all endorsed the Anglo-American plan as a
basis for any further negotiations; this plan differs from the Internal
Settlement only in specifics such as the reserved twenty-eight seats out of 100
for whites, dual citizenship and independence day.
Atfirst,the picture emerging from this historical scenario suggests that
the nationalist liberation struggle in Zimbabwe has been more of politics
of leadership, factionalism, power struggle, and of political alliances and
deals than of genuine ideological differences over 'revolutionary' versus
'neo-colonialist changes, as the Patriotic Front proponents and sympathizers
would like us to believe. Apparently, the whole wolrd is currently bogged
down in choosing sides from among various Zimbabwean African factions
and personalities w h o arerivallingfiercely over the spoils of a dying settler
colonialism. W h a t w e need is the historical perspective to enable us to
distinguish between current propaganda and campaign rhetoric stemming
from the lust for power, from frustration and personal vendettas, and the
underlying ideological realities of African nationalism in Zimbabwe.
The first truly mass-oriented African nationalist movement in
Zimbabwe was the Southern Rhodesia African National Congress ( A N C )
formed on 12 September 1957. 29 The A N C essentially was a merger between
the old African National Congress of Bulawayo—an elitist organization
formed in 1934 on the pattern of the African National Congress of South
Africa—and the Youth League of Salisbury, the first mass organization,

formed in 1954, primarily to promote African interests under the Federation
of Rhodesia and Nyasaland. Right away the leaders—Chikerema, Nyandoro
and Paul Mushonga for the Youth League and J. Z . M o y o , Francis Nehwati
and Knight Maripe for the old African National Congress—could not agree
on a chairman.
A s a compromise, they accepted a 'neutral chairman', Joshua
M g a b u k o Nyongolo N k o m o , w h o was promoted by the conservative
delegates led by Chad Chipunza, a leading figure among the Africans w h o
have participated in the settler parliament under the 1961 Constitution.
Subsequently N k o m o was elected as the president of A N C ; Chikerema as the
vice-president, Nyandoro as the secretary and Mushonga (now dead) as the
treasurer; M o y o (also dead) and Nehwati were executive m e m b e r s . 3 0 Since
1947, N k o m o had been a prominent trade-union leader in the Industrial and
Commercial Workers Union and then in the Trade Union Congress. B y 1957
he had supported federation, joined the white-led United Federal Party, lost
to Masotsha M . H o v e in a bid to be the first African m e m b e r of the federal
parliament from Matabeleland. H e was the Bulawayo chairman of the
white-led Federation of African Welfare Societies and a m e m b e r of the
Inter-Racial Association.
The basic aim of the A N C was non-racialism. A s stated in the preamble
of its Constitution:
Its aim is the national unity of all inhabitants of the country in true partnership
regardless of race, colour and creed. It stands for a completely integrated society,
equality of opportunity in every sphere, and the social, economic, and political
advancement of all.31
The party was vehemently opposed to racism in land tenure and use, in
residence, education, local government, social services, industry, trade
unions, and the armed forces. It was 'equally opposed to tribalism and
racialism'. It accepted whites, coloureds, and Asians as members and
recognized their rights 'to retain permanently the fullest citizenship'. It
encouraged 'all members in their daily lives to offer to all people, regardless
of race, colour, creed, and class, or political affiliation' good examples in
habits of friendship, good manners, honesty, hard work, temperance,
economy, simplicity and avoidance of violence.32
The A N C affirmed 'complete loyality to the [British] C r o w n as the
symbol of national unity' and urged the United Kingdom 'to exert its
influence to the utmost in favour of the creation of a non-racial, integrated
society with a government responsible to the people, as the first essential step
towards the granting of greater independence'. It did not advocate African
78 David Chanaiwa
majority rule. Instead, it recommended a 'parliamentary democracy, based

on universal adult suffrage', with an emphasis on 'now'.
Economically, the A N C primarily demanded equal opportunity within
the socio-economic structure of the settler society. It advocated 'individual
initiative and free enterprise', the 'fullest freedom for the economic use of
land by competent people regardless of race' and a 'system of freehold land
tenure' where the 'large and small farmer are permitted to farm side by side
to their mutual advantage'. 34 It urged the settler government to facilitate the
immigration of 'people with capital, skills, and techniques' provided that
'these immigrants are of good character', and that 'there will be no
discrimination as to race or colour'.35
T h e first major characteristic of the A N C , and thus of modern African
nationalism in Z i m b a b w e , is that it was formed m u c h later than nationalist
movements in the rest of colonial Africa. B y 12 September 1957, G h a n a was
independent, M a u M a u had just ended, the francophone colonies were
operating under the Loi Cadre formula of self-government, and the
Federation of Rhodesia and Nyasaland was four years old. A n other
characteristic of the A N C was that it was born out of the euphoric optimism
and multiracialism expressed in the principle of partnership, upon which the
Federation was based. 36 M a n y African teachers, ministers, clerks and
businessmen did not join the A N C . Instead they sat on the fence or joined
white-led liberal parties—the United Federal Party ( U F P ) and the Central
African Party (CAP)—which advocated a qualitative franchise to keep the
government 'in responsable and civilized hands', meaning white supremacy.
These parties believed in creating an African middle class, through African
education, the civil service and private land-ownership in the African
Purchased Areas.
T h e third major characteristic was that the A N C was a reformist,
gradualist, non-violent movement. It concentrated on the educationalist
expose of the failures and hypocrisy of partnership, of racial discrimination,
of poverty and sickness, under the false hope that an informed liberal white
electorate would reciprocate with fair, non-racial legislation and practices.
T h e public rallies of the A N C mainly consisted of successive speeches against
the Land Apportionment Act, the Land Husbandry Act, passes, the
franchise, partnership, unemployment, housing, sanitation and police
brutality. T h e A N C also engaged in Gandhian style non-violent demonstra-
tions and sit-ins in hotels, restaurants, churches, sportsfields,and railway
stations. Although there were frequent echoes of one-man one-vote at A N C
rallies, the major outcry was for removal of racial discrimination and for
multiracial democratic rule.
T h e fourth characteristic was that the basic objectives and organiza-
tional structure of the A N C have been transmitted throughout the various
successive movements up to the present Internal Settlement. The significant

difference between the A N C and the current Z A P U , Z A N U , and U A N C is
the change from non-violence and gradualism to the armed struggle, and
from a united movement to factionalism. The constitutions are for all
practical purposes identical.
O n 25 February 1959, Edgar Whitehead's settler regime banned the
A N C , conducted an Operation Sunrise raid and imprisoned 500 party officials
to appease an apprehensive white electorate. N k o m o escaped imprisonment
because he had 'mysteriously' left the country for London. Both the United
Federal Party and the Central African Party then m a d e concerted efforts to
'eradicate African nationalism' through membership drives and patronages
among African professionals and businessmen. There was a brief upsurge of
African membership in white-led parties. Africans almost took over
leadership of the Central African Party led by Garfield Todd, 3 7 the most
outstanding being Stanlake Samkange, w h o became the vice-president.
Then, on 1 January 1960, three young men—Michael M a w e m a ,
Nazario Marondera and Sketchley S a m k a n g e , Stanlake's young
brother—convened a meeting in the African township of Highfields,
Salisbury, which led to the formation of the National Democratic Party.38
M a w e m a , the president, had completed a primary teachers' certificate, but
he left teaching to be a social-welfare worker on the Rhodesia Railways,
where he became an active m e m b e r of the Railway African Workers' Union.
In 1958, he was sent to Israel by the A N C for a ten-month study of the
kibbutzim. Mapondera, the secretary, had worked in the A N C publicity
office, and Samkange, the treasurer, had two years of secondary schooling.
Morton Malianga, Enos Ngala, Willie Masarurwa, and George Silundika
were the other executive-committee members.
The N D P adopted the A N C constitution in toto. But the youthful
M a w e m a and his executive initiated a m u c h higher level of enthusiasm,
dynamism and forcefulness than that of the A N C . Their major emphasis then
was on one-man one-vote and on parliamentary representation. They rapidly
built a m u c h broader-based mass organization and spread it from the
primarily urban centres of the A N C to the rural areas. They were very
persistent and forceful with their demands, demonstrations and delegations.
They established an N D P office in London to inform the British Government
and public about the colonialist conditions of Southern Rhodesia, and to
lobby for a constitutional conference to establish 'self-government for all the
inhabitants'.
Several other factors contributed to their rapid success, among which
were the external 'wind of change' from other parts of Africa, the notorious
Land Husbandry Act, which was causing havoc and unrest in rural areas, the
failure of partnership and federation, and especially the accompanying
80 David Chanaiwa
disillusionment with white leadership among African professionals and

businessmen,39 most of w h o m then turned to African nationalism. A m o n g
the most prominent new members was Ndabaningi Sithole, w h o then was a
teacher, president of the African Teachers' Association, and a m e m b e r of the
Central African Party, and had just published his book African Nationalism.
The others were Robert M u g a b e , Stanlake Samkange, D r Tichafa
Parirenyatwa, Barrister Herbert Chitepo, D r Chidzero, Enoch D u m b u t -
shena, and D r E . Pswarayi.40 N k o m o , w h o had thus far taken refuge in
London, came back into Zimbabwean politics. Undoubtedly, these high-
level élites brought talent, vigour and prestige to the N D P .
A s usual, the settler attempted to destroy the movement so as to pacify
a restless white electorate. In June, Whitehead imprisoned M a w e m a ,
Sketchley Samkange and Leopold Takawira for supposedly contravening the
L a w and Order Maintenance Act. The imprisonment precipitated so m a n y
demonstrations,riotsand damage that Whitehead was forced to release the
leaders and to promise a conference, which eventually led to the 1961
Constitution. T h e projected conference and the possibility of multiracial
self-government prompted a scramble for offices among the top élites.
M a w e n a and his youthful colleagues were unceremoniously deposed. At a
convention held at (ironically) the Goodwill Centre in Salisbury in October
1960, N k o m o was elected president of the N D P in absentia, Sithole the
treasurer, and M u g a b e the publicity secretary. Poor M a w e m a and his other
'radical' colleagues formed the Zimbabwe National Party, which was easily
overshadowed and destroyed by the N D P . Since them, university-educated
élites have dominated the leadership of nationalist movements in Zimbabwe.
The 1961 Constitution

The history of the N D P was centred around the 1961 Constitution. T h e
United Kingdom convened the expected conference in London on 16
December 1960, under the chairmanship of Duncan Sandys, Secretary of
State for Commonwealth Relations.41 The N D P delegates were N k o m o and
Sithole, with Chitepo and Silundika as advisers. The dominant delegation
was the U F P , led by Whitehead, which insisted on the removal of the
reserved clauses on racial discrimination, foreign affairs and national defence
contained in the 1923 Constitution, in order to obtain complete indepen-
dence for the settlers. N k o m o and Sithole apparently concentrated on
preventing white independence rather than on obtaining African majority
rule. They pressed for a multiracial, white-led, self-government based on
universal adult suffrage, for African parliamentary representation and for
removal of racial discrimination.
W h e n the conference was concluded in Salisbury on 7 February 1961,

N k o m o and Sithole had put their signatures to a Legislative Assembly of fifty
white and fifteen African seats; a cumbersome A-roll/B-roll voting
mechanism; a Constitutional Council of two Europeans, two Africans, one
coloured, and two persons with legal qualifications 'to advise the Legislative
Assembly'; and a Bill of Rights patterned after that of Nigeria.42 T h e
so-called Declaration of Rights claimed the sanctity of life, property,
freedom, privacy and due process of law; but also emphatically exempted
existing discriminatory legislation and all laws pertaining to 'defence, public
safety, public order, public morality or public health'. Thus, the notorious
Land Apportionment and L a w and Order Maintenance Acts were i m m u n e
from the Bill of Rights. Furthermore, amendments to the Constitution
required only a two-thirds majority of Parliament.
Initially, N k o m o thought that the Constitution was 'a great step in the
right direction' and that the Bill of Rights was 'a yardstick for any
government that is moral'. 43 Speaking at an N D P rally in Salisbury on 19
March 1961, he said, ' W e were able to m o v e the mountain which had been
set before us an inch by getting the declaration of h u m a n rights and the
protection of the courts enshrined in the new Constitution.'44 M u g a b e , then
the publicity secretary, claimed that major N D P objectives had been met by
the 'enshrinement of a declaration ofrights,the outlawing of discrimination,
and the protection of the rights by the courts'.45
But even by 1961 standards the constitution was terribly inadequate.
B y then most other British colonies had obtained either complete
independence or transitional government; former French colonies were
celebrating independence by the month; Zaire was independent; and the
armed struggle w a s already under w a y in Angola. Locally, the
British-sponsored Monckton Commission had pronounced that the Federa-
tion was going to be dismantled in 1963; the 1961 M c L e o d Constitution of
Nyasaland (Malawi) gave votingrightsto any adult w h o was literate in any
language and had paid taxes for ten years, as well as twenty African seats out
of thirty-three. In Northern Rhodesia, the constitution gavefifteenseats to
Africans and fifteen to whites, and leftfifteenopen to anyone. The N D P , on
the other hand, had allowed the removal of the reserve clauses, thus further
weakening British trusteeship in Rhodesian politics, without entrenching
themselves into the self-government. Whites controlled African education,
employment, wages and, therefore, the franchise. M o r e importantly,
N k o m o ' s , Sithole's and Mugabe's faith in settler colonial courts, and their
ability to apply the laws impartially, was awfully naive, as their o w n
subsequent imprisonment without trial was to prove.
Predictably, some Africans within and without the N D P denounced the
Constitution as a 'sell-out'. The most famous response and perhaps the most
82 David Chanaiwa
accurate analysis of the constitution was the telegram sent to Salisbury by

Leopold Takawira, the N D P representative in London: ' W e totally reject
Southern Rhodesian constitutional conference agreement as trecherous to
the future of the three million Africans. Agreement diabolical and
disastrous. Outside world stocked by N D P ' s docile agreement.'46 Retrospective-
ly, the N D P leaders had not been fully aware of the extent to which the African
population was opposed to settler rule. In the same fashion as they behaved at
the Victoria Falls and Geneva Conferences, they did not consult the masses
before, or inform them during, the negotiations. The Zimbabwean nationalist
leaders have tended to presume to know what is good for the people, and often
have surprised the masses with faits accomplis.
However, the following day N k o m o called a press conference to
denounce the Constitution. There was a special party convention in March
1961, where the N D P leadership expected to denounce the Constitution, but
recommend participation. But the delegates voted for total boycott of it. O n
23 July 1961, the N D P conducted its o w n referendum on participation versus
boycott, and the results were 467,189 for boycott, 584 for participation.47
Consequently, the rest of 1961 was a period of confusion; on the one hand,
the top leadership had been forced to reverse and thusridiculeitself in the
face of an unpopular decision, and on the other, the masses were not
politically activist enough to demand the resignation of the culprits. Instead,
the leadership and their most enthusiastic supporters organized against voter
registration and against participation in the forthcoming elections of 1962.
The Whitehead regime had been counting on the new African middle-class
voters to stand for the fifteen seats and to vote U F P against the conservatives
of the Dominion Party. The U F P machinery then mounted a Build-a-Nation
and Claim-Your-Vote campaign a m o n g African professionals and busines-
smen. Having been frustrated in the UFP-versus-NDP confrontation, the
Whitehead Government banned the N D P on 9 December 1961, when
N k o m o was away attending the independence celebrations of the then
Tanganyika. In the 1962 election, the U F P was defeated by the Dominion
Party led by Winston Field, which was soon renamed the Rhodesia Front,
and Field was replaced by Ian Smith.
A few days after the N D P was banned, the same people formed Z A P U
and endorsed the same executive, with only the addition of D r Tichafa
Pairenyatwa, w h o resigned his government post as a medical officer to
become a politician. During its ten months' existence, Z A P U pursued the
same objectives and employed the same tactics as the N D P . But there were
some executive members and followers w h o were questioning the efficacy of
the non-violent, constitutional, and multiracial orientation of the movement,
as well as N k o m o ' s leadership, especially as the frustrated settler regime
became increasingly intimidating, provocative and ruthless against African
politicians. The settler policemen were empowered under the L a w and Order
Maintenance Act to order an African politician to stop in the middle of a
speech and to get off the platform if they judged the speech to be subversive.
Then the anger and especially jeering of the crowd also were treated as
crimes because they 'undermine the authority of law officers'. Consequently
the police would disperse the audience with tear-gas and dogs. Often,
officious and racialist policemen would order the speaker off the podium just
to embarrass him or her or to incite the crowd, and thus precipitate a riot.
O n e of the leading critics of the pacifist approach was D r Pari (as
Parirenyatta was commonly called). H e recommended underground armed
struggle under the umbrella of Z A P U , and less elitism among the top
leadership. Unfortunately, D r Pari died mysteriously and prematurely on
13 August 1962, fifteen miles outside Bulawayo, in what supposedly was a
car/train accident. His death is still a Sherlock-Holmes-type mystery as it is
not known whether he died from the accident or from foul play by either
colonialist policemen or fellow African nationalist rivals. About the same
time, a General Chedu (Chedu in Shona translates into 'ours') was claiming
to have formed the Zimbabwe Liberation A r m y and was calling upon fellow
Africans to join in the armed struggle. There were several cases of telephone
wires being cut and white homes being petrol-bombed. N o identification of
General Chedu or his followers has ever been established. However, on 19
September 1962, Z A P U was banned.
There was little else but disappointment, leaderlessness and confusion
between September 1962 and June 1963, when the Z A P U / Z A N U split finally
occurred. N o General Chedu and no underground Zimbabwe Liberation
A r m y emerged; the top leaders were under restrictions, except for N k o m o ,
w h o had taken refuge in London again; and the Dominion Party (Rhodesia
Front) w o n the settlers' election. Briefly, the causes of the Z A P U / Z A N U ,
Nkomo/Sithole split were: (a) the long-range frustration over the lack of
progress towards universal adult suffrage, majority rule and non-racialism;
(b) the inevitable scapegoat syndrome a m o n g frustrated people; (c) the
differences over non-violence versus armed struggle, and internal struggle
versus government-in-exile; and (d) a general disillusionment with the
leadership, especially N k o m o ' s . S o m e followers wanted a change of methods
or leadership, others wanted both.
A s it happened, the change was brought about by the leadership, when
it failed to agree on new directions. Simply put, the N k o m o faction at that
stage was inclined to be more cautious, non-violent, and pro-government-in-
exile; while the Sithole/Mugabe faction wanted a more radical, underground
struggle. T h e immediate cause was the famous Cabinet Exodus of 1963,
when the old Z A P U executive met at M b e y a , in the United Republic of
Tanzania, supposedly to form a government-in-exile. T h e plan quickly
84 David Chanaiwa
fizzled out w h e n there was no support from independent African states,

whereby N k o m o , sensing the imminent 'crisis of confidence' in his
leadership, hurriedly flew to Rhodesia, leaving his lieutenants, some of
w h o m had brought their familieSj stranded.
At first the Sithole/Mugabe faction intended to depose N k o m o on
account of his 'ineffective, blind, spineless leadership and intolerance of
criticism', and to appoint Sithole as acting president until the next Z A P U
congress. O n 9 July 1963, at D a r es Salaam, none other than M u g a b e ,
N k o m o ' s current co-leader of the Patriotic Front, announced the decision
and went on to expound on N k o m o ' s 'fumbling and blunderous leadership',
on behalf of the Sithole/Mugabe faction. H e stated that they had deposed
N k o m o because:
M r Nkomo's numerous political blunders, his miscalculations, lack of foresight and

judgment, his lackadaisical politics and complete lack of dedication and seriousness of
purpose, plus his total incorrigibility have more than hampered and militated against
the liberation struggle of our country.48
F r o m Salisbury, N k o m o deposed Sithole, M u g a b e , Takawira, Ngala,
Malianga, Hamadziripi and N y a g u m b o from the executive and declared
them 'enemies of the people'. O n 8 August 1963, Z A N U was formed with
Sithole as president and M u g a b e as general-secretary. Thus, the historic
rivalries, assassinations, and vendetta a m o n g Zimbabwean nationalists had
begun. N k o m o quickly reconstituted Z A P U into the short-lived P C C .
Locally, most Africans were waiting for some change, if not a miracle,
to achieve majority rule. Z A N U rhetoric tended to be militant and the
leadership more educated. N k o m o labelled his opponents intellectuals,
'sell-outs' and 'Tshombes'. Between August 1963 and 26 August 1964, there
was an unfortunately wasteful and suicidal spectacle of Z A P U / Z A N U
fratricide, thuggery and intimidation that has left bitter memories and
acrimony a m o n g factional followers and neutrals. Predictably, the Smith
regime, which was getting ready for its Unilateral Declararation of
Independence (UDI) from the United Kingdom took full advantage of the
situation to further divide Africans, turn the colony into a police state, and
convince the Western world that Africans were not yet ready for
independence. B y August 1964, both Z A P U and Z A N U had been banned
and both leaderships put under detention, which lasted through December
1974.
The factions were then forced to go underground and into exile in
Zambia, Malawi and the United Republic of Tanzania, where they began the
armed struggle under acting councils. Z A P U was under Chikerema until he
broke away to lead another faction, the Front for the Liberation of
Z i m b a b w e ( F R O L I Z I ) in 1971, w h e n it came under J. Z . M o y o (now
deceased). Z A N U was under Chitepo until 1974, w h e n he was assassinated

in an apparent Manyika/Karanga power struggle.49 Simultaneously, indivi-
dual members of the front-line states, the O A U , and the United Nations
took sides and participation in the liberation politics of Z i m b a b w e .
Retrospectively, the split did not originate from ideological, ethnic or
regional clashes, as some latter-day partisan intellectuals would like us to
believe, but from personality clashes and especially the power-hunger of both
the top leaders and their subordinates. T h e factions have appealed to
'tribalism', 'revolutionary' versus 'neo-colonist' ideologies and regionalism
to advance themselves and to mobilize factional cohesion and enthusiasm.50
The case with which the top leaders and especially the subordinates have
switched party membership and allegiances, such as Mugabe's switches from
N k o m o to Si thole, back to N k o m o and probably back to Sithole again, and
Chikerema's and Nyandoro's switches from Z A P U to F R O L I Z I to
Muzorewa's U A N C , suggest political opportunism rather than ideological
commitment. Currently, Sithole and M u g a b e have simply split Z A N U
followers between themselves without raising any basic ideological differ-
ences.
The split was unfortunate because leaders w h o basically share a
c o m m o n ideology of non-racialism, universalism, constitutionalism, Euro-
pean parliamentary democracy and non-violence, w h o therefore would m a k e
one of thefinestteams in African politics, have destroyed each other with
irrepressible hostilities and bad publicity. N k o m o , Sithole and M u g a b e share
a c o m m o n comradeship going back to the N D P , the 1961 Constitution, Z A P U ,
and detention camps. Even their respective factions, structurally and
ideologically, are replicas of each other. There are Marxist, Leninist, Maoist,
Fanonite, capitalist and traditionalist intellectuals, as well as bourgeois,
peasants, chiefs, policemen, whites, coloureds, and Asians in each of them.
In terms of the first presidency of Z i m b a b w e , there will be no real difference
between Sithole, M u z o r e w a , M u g a b e , N k o m o , or any coalition, except in
matters of style, efficiency, eloquence, tolerance and charisma. A s reported
in Africa Confidential, Sithole is prepared to accomodate N k o m o provided
the latter stops threats of a civil war and comes h o m e without conditions. 'I
say Joshua should return, I have nothing against him, I have a w a r m spot for
M r N k o m o . I want to see him back.' 51
However, once started, factionalism acquired an existence and force of
its o w n . Verbally and in print, the factions have waged scandalous warfare
against each other, often to their mutual self-destruction.52 In fact, they
applied to each other most of the antinationalist characterizations employed
against all of them by the settler press. Each faction has accused the other
of ineffectiveness, neo-colonialism, corruption, tribalism, nepotism,
power-hunger and bad faith, and of deceiving the masses. Each of them has
86 David Chanaiwa
claimed to be the only 'revolutionary' party and to have sole majority support
(without polling or election). With respect to the armed struggle, each
faction has exaggerated its number of freedom fighters, its victories and
strength, while emphasizing the weakness and failures of its rivals. Ironically,
one of the major strengths of the Internal Settlement is the fact that Sithole,
M u z o r e w a and Smith basically share similar political images of N k o m o and
M u g a b e , just as N k o m o and Smith shared similar views about Sithole,
M u z o r e w a and M u g a b e in their 1975/76 negotiations.
Consequently, the exigencies of factionalism have led to the hardening
of personal feelings and attitudes towards each other a m o n g the leader and
thus have diminished the chances for open-mindedness, compromise and
unity. Mugabe's inclusion in the Internal Settlement is virtually foreclosed
because of what Sithole perceives as the former's betrayal, arrogance and
attempt at usurpation of Sithole's presidency of Z A N U . Sithole told O w e n
point-blank, ' A s for M u g a b e , I find it very difficult to forgive him.' 5 3
Factionalism first necessitated and, in turn, depended on the politics of
symbolism. T o resolve the contradiction between their politics of factional-
ism, which emphasized party solidarity and distinctions, and the prevailing
settler colonialism at h o m e , which denied them power, authority, offices and
status, the politicians evolved a make-believe state system of their o w n in
which individuals lived, travelled and acted like African presidents, cabinet
ministers and ambassadors at h o m e and in foreign capitals. Thus until the
Internal Settlement, Z i m b a b w e had Z A P U - N k o m o , Z A N U - M u g a b e , A N C -
Sithole, and U A N C - M u z o r e w a forms of 'governments-in-exile' complete
with four presidents, vice-presidents, shadow cabinets, diplomatic represen-
tatives with passports and immunities, Z i m b a b w e (state) houses, security
services and limousines. In this exercise, foreign nations, and especially the
front-line states, have been responsible for providing their favourite factions
with the m o n e y and facilities. Currently, for example, w e not only have
N k o m o , M u g a b e , Sithole and M u z o r e w a claiming sole title to be the first
president of Z i m b a b w e , w e also have one individual for each of the four
factions parading as the first minister-designate for foreign affairs, defence,
education, etc., or the Zimbabwean ambassador designate to the United
States, the United Nations, the United Kingdom, China, G a b o n , the United
Republic of Tanzania, and so forth. Consequently, some individuals have
acquired personal vested interests in factionalism, to the extent that the
rivalry, antagonism and intransigence nowadays have been exacerbated and
intensified because independence day appears to be very close and
inevitable.
Since the differences between these symbolic functionaries were so
unsubstantive and so interchangeable, every little detail of protocol,
alliances, friendships, marriages and ethnic origin immediately acquired
exaggerated meanings for the purposes of embarrassing or alienating

opponents while impressing and solidifying supporters. B y the same token,
African majority rule for Z i m b a b w e became a zero-sum equation of political
electioneering in which the winner takes the whole pie. For Sithole and
Muzorewa, accomodating N k o m o or M u g a b e into the Transitional Govern-
ment would m e a n sharing lucrative political offices with the latter at the
expense and alienation of their loyal lieutenants w h o had stood by them
throughout the bitter factionalism. For N k o m o and M u g a b e , too, accomoda-
tion is painful and embarrassing because they would have to betray each
other, their lieutenants and cadres.
It is therefore erroneous, simplistic and partisan to describe the
Internal Settlement as the product of Smith, or of the British, American and
South African governments. That would be giving credit to be myth of white
superiority and doing injustice to the intelligence, integrity, and dedication of
African leaders. Sithole and Muzorewa certainly are not 'sell outs' and
'neo-colonialist puppets', any more than N k o m o and M u g a b e are mere
puppets of the front-line states, or of the Cubans. Sithole and M u z o r e w a are
political victors in a historic andfiercepower struggle a m o n g the African
nationalists of Z i m b a b w e . Put in perspective, the Internal Settlement
embodies the major historical objectives of the African nationalist movement
of Z i m b a b w e . Sithole and M u z o r e w a achieved what the nationalist
constitutions always have stipulated and advocated. They certainly did not
betray the followers of N k o m o and M u g a b e , because these two have
subscribed to the same goals as are found in the Internal Settlement. Even
the armchair revolutionaries should not claim betrayal, because neither
Sithole nor Muzorewa, N k o m o nor M u g a b e , has ever promised them a truly
revolutionary change in Z i m b a b w e .
Furthermore, within the context of the socio-economic institutions of
the settler society and its extensive colonialist culture, the Internal
Settlement suggests a very dramatic change. T h e majority rule, universal
suffrage, non-racialism, and the Bill of Rights that it contains in reality are
the expressions of a deep and fundamental cultural heritage of the African
people of Z i m b a b w e and not simply products of immediate wartime
compromises or of Sithole's and Muzorewa's lust for power. Rather, these
ideals have always been perceived by Zimbabwean Africans as the antitheses
of settler colonialism, racism and privileges, and have been converted into
African nationalism to justify and fortify the process of liberation. T h e
historical primacy of the Western-educated élites, including Christian
ministers like Sithole and M u z o r e w a , was guaranteed by the African masses,
w h o saw in the non-racialism, constitutionalism and courage of both the
politicians and the cadres the embodiment and promotion of their o w n ideals
and desires for independence, freedom, identity and unity.
88 David Chanaiwa
The masses supported the leadership on the deposition of M a w e m a and

his colleagues and on the 1961 Constitution. They turned out in large
numbers to welcome their leaders back from the Victoria Falls and Geneva
Conferences; and thus far they have gone along with the Internal Settlement.
In fact, the major concern of the average Zimbabwean is not over the
shortcomings of the Internal Settlement, nor over what Sithole or Muzorewa
is going to do to whites or to the economy, but over the possibility of a violent
settlement of old wounds and animosities between N k o m o , Sithole, M u g a b e
and Muzorewa and their lieutenants. A t this stage, I will venture to say that,
given mass participation in a democratic election in Z i m b a b w e , the masses
will get the leaders they deserve.
The armed struggle

Full-scale armed struggle was born out of the Z A P U / Z A N U split and rivalry.
For thefirsttime the colonized Africans of Zimbabwe had fought, bombed
and killed in the n a m e of liberation, anti-colonialism and freedom. Even at
the peak of the unfortunate fratricide in 1963 and 1964 an underground
movement calling itself the Voice of W o m e n , but actually consisting of young
m e n , was already engaging in petrol bombing of electrical installations, homes,
and railways.54 Factionalrivalryand the power struggle generated vigour and
direction for militant mobilization of supporters on a mass basis. Nearly
every Zimbabwean African has had to reckon with factionalism and take
sides a m o n g rival leaders. Although fratricide unfortunately has been
destructive, the consequential necessity to 'deliver the goods', in order to
gain, impress and sustain mass support at the expense of the other factions,
has given rise to effective guerrilla movements. Z A P U , Z A N U , F R O L I Z I
and Z I P A cadres often engaged in heroic battles and strategies with their
minds on m a x i m u m publicity.
However, Z A P U and Z A N U cadres historically have operated and
perceived themselves as subordinate, auxiliary, power-base factors for the
feuding political leadership. For ten years (1964-74), the cadres and their
'acting' leaders—Chitepo for Z A N U , Chikerema and later M o y o for
ZAPU—acknowledged Sithole and N k o m o respectively as the de jure
commanders-in-chief from behind bars. They consulted with Sithole and
N k o m o on all major policies and especially on foreign affairs. But Sithole,
N k o m o and their lieutenants did not undergo any revolutionary ideological
transformation in prison. They still remained, and came out, committed to
non-racialism, majority rule on the basis of universal adult suffrage, and
equal economic opportunity.
In fact, w e can venture to say that the Zimbabwean political leadership
historically has played a conservative role in incorporating, eliminating or

sabotaging the truly revolutionary elements in the struggle, especially w h e n
the politicians felt threatened. W e have already discussed the case of
M a w e m a (1960), and mentioned General Chedu and his Z i m b a b w e
Liberation A r m y (1963), as well as the Voice of W o m e n (1964), which were
all disowned by the national political leadership. The latest is the case of
Z I P A , formed in March 1975, 55 three months after the Lusaka Declaration
of unity among the politicians.
According to its spokesman, Dzinashe Machingura, Z I P A was a
voluntary merger of the military wings of Z A P U ( Z I P R A ) and Z A N U
( Z A N L A ) after the cadres had 'realized the incompetence of the A N C
leadership', and w a s formed 'for the purpose of rescuing the Z i m b a b w e
liberation struggle from the chaotic situation that had been created by the
A N C leadership'.56 Z I P A believed in a total military victory that would
establish 'a just and popular socio-political order serving the interests of the
people of Zimbabwe', and it was opposed to 'personality polities'. Z I P A
concluded that the disunity a m o n g the politicians was caused by 'political
ambition and power struggle'. 'Ideologically they belong to the same
c a m p ' . 5 7 It was more than just the traditional army because it had the
intention of 'shouldering both the military and the political tasks of the
revolution'. For that purpose it established the Chitepo College in
Mozambique, headed by D r Jo Taderera, where military-trained cadres
of above average education underwent six months of study of
Marxist-Leninist-Maoist ideology in groups of 350, to be sent into the battle
as political commissars.
Soon, Z I P A was recognized and patronized by the front-line states as a
counterforce to the feuding politicians. Z I P A was then able to receive
international recognition and support independently of the traditional
political leadership. The front-line states barred N k o m o , Sithole, Mugabe and
M u z o r e w a from the Z I P A camps unless they united. Suddenly,
politicians were scrambling for survival. The soldier-politician leadership of
Z I P A was not only truly revolutionary but also formidable, considering that
none of the politicians had had military training, knowledge or field
experience with the cadres. For a while it was feasible that Z I P A would soon
replace the traditional politicians to become an independent politico-military
vanguard for a revolutionary struggle. This was mutiny in the eyes of the
politicians.
Unfortunately, the Z I P A high c o m m a n d operated under a d e m o -
cratic collective leadership and thus had no internationally recognized
politicalfigureto counter the traditional politicians. Thus it left itself open to
infiltration and, lately, incorporation by N k o m o and M u g a b e , and to being
represented by these two at negotiations. The result has been perhaps the
90 David Chanaiwa
saddest commentary on the Patriotic Front. Machingura and the rest of his
colleagues in'ZIP A w h o have refused to be subordinated to N k o m o and
M u g a b e have all been imprisoned in Mozambique by Frelimo soldiers.58
These include the leading revolutionaries, such as Machingura, Elias H o n d o ,
Dr Jo Taderera (Chitepo College), Joseph Chimurenga, S h u m b a Chigowe
(former Z A N U chief of intelligence), Mukudzei Mudzi (external affairs),
Crispin Mandizvidza, Webster G w a u y a , Charles Dauramanzi, Rugare
G u m b o , Henry Hamadziripi and m a n y cadres. In short, the Patriotic Front
and the front-line states have joined forces in destroying Z I P A .
Conclusion
The constitutions of all the major nationalist movements of Z i m b a b w e , from
the A N C , N D P , Z A P U , Z A N U , F R O L I Z I to U A N C , have never stipulated
or advocated significant revolutionary change of the socio-economic system
of the settler society. Furthermore, none of the currentrivalsfor the first
presidency of Zimbabwe—Sithole, Muzorewa, N k o m o and Mugabe—has
ever advocated a revolutionary transformation of the settler society. It is
therefore erroneous to equate the armed struggle of Z i m b a b w e with those of
Algeria, Guinea-Bissau, Angola and Mozambique.
Real revolutionary change in a settler-colonialist and multi-ethnic
society like Z i m b a b w e would necessitate the dismantling of the socio-
economic structures, institutions and values of the settler society. It would
require a proletarian economic democracy of mass-controlled resources,
means and goals of production, distribution and services, in order to satisfy
h u m a n needs and to end economic insecurity and exploitation. It would
demand that the African masses cease to be exploited as commodities to be
bought on the labour market and compelled by circumstances of poverty to
work as lowly paid appendages to the other tools owned privately by the
European or African bourgeoisie. This of course means a classless society in
which mass-controlled and oriented institutions would abolish domestic and
neo-colonialist forms of capitalistic formations and values.
Thus revolutionary change in Z i m b a b w e would m e a n what Z I P A
correctly called 'the total transformation of the Zimbabwean society'.59 It
means 'a national democratic revolution to overthrow national oppression'
by 'a small minority, racist, reactionary clique of whites';60 and an activation
of the 'innovative and creative potential of the masses of Zimbabwe' by
re-instituting 'the politicalrights,the economicrights,and the cultural rights
of the Zimbabwean people'. This would necessitate a total military victory; a
revolutionary process of nationalization of land, resources, labour, produc-
tion, and distribution; and a revolutionary Africanization of the the armed
forces, the civil service, the judiciary, education, social services and values.
Politically, revolutionary change in Z i m b a b w e should guarantee full
democratic rights for all citizens, based on mass participation in the electoral
process, the civil service, defence, judiciary, economy, education, etc. It
requires a guarantee to every citizen, irrespective of ethnic origin, party
membership, education and kinship, the right to life, job, education, health,
and freedom of expression. It would be politically tyrannical and wrong for
any self-appointed or foreign-imposed faction of soldiers, politicians, or
ethnic group arbitrarily to disenfranchise the very masses w h o have w o n
independence by their o w n sweat and tears. Their rights should neither be
usurped nor treated as gifts to be determined unilaterally by the 'state', let
alone by élites factions.
But, as w e have seen, until their imprisonment in 1964, N k o m o ,
Sithole and M u g a b e believed in the impartiality of colonial courts and
judges, failing to grasp the obvious reality that the judiciary, like the army,
police, parliament, education and economic structures, was an instrument of
settler self-interest and socio-economic formations. Even after they c a m e
out of their ten-year imprisonment, they formulated their objectives at the
successive negotiations at Victoria Falls, Geneva, Salisbury and Malta in
terms of the transfer of power—meaning national indepence, flag, anthem
and a twenty-one-gun salute for the president, as well as a seat at the O A U
and the United Nations. Concerning the Geneva Talks, the Patriotic Front
stated that 'the objective of the conference has been solely the transfer of
power from the minority racists to the people of Z i m b a b w e ' , which they
defined as 'the transfer to the majority of all the instruments and machinery
of state power'. 6 1 They have perceived the struggle as a franchise war and
victory as majority rule, one-man-one-vote, equal opportunity, and
non-racialism—without elaborating on the n e w socio-economic mecha-
nisms, institutions and values necessary for an effective transformation of the
settler colonialist society.
T h e scenario of the Geneva Talks was that Smith would (voluntarily)
surrender power to a British Resident Commissioner w h o would be the
commander-in-chief and the administrator, with the assistance of a United
Nations observer and peace-keeping force, and would supervise the writing
of the constitution and the election. There would have been a cease-fire and
lifting of sanctions.62 Thus, u p to this day, the political leadership has not yet
reckoned with the demands and realities of a liberation struggle against
settler colonialism, which only can be effectively eliminated by total military
victory, accompanied by a cultural revolution. A n y negotiated settlement of
Zimbabwean African-European confrontation would have neo-colonialist
elements because, as Pieter van der Byl, the outspoken settler Minister of
Foreign Affairs, amply informed the nationalists at Geneva:
92 David Chanaiwa
Whichever w a y y o u like to look at it, the [white] Rhodesian G o v e r n m e n t nonetheless

exists a n d therefore w e form half the conference because w e are the effective p o w e r
and n o agreement can possibly be implemented unless w e choose to g o along with it.63
B y its very nature, negotiation is a give-and-take exercise.

T h e political leadership of Z i m b a b w e has used the armed struggle only
as a pressure technique of sabotage, carefully engineered to instill fear,
suffering and economic loss a m o n g the settlers, so as to convince them that
colonialism and racialism do not pay, and thus to pressure Smith and the
United Kingdom to transfer power to the African majority in the typically
Ghanaian, Zambian, Tanzanian, and Kenyan pattern of decolonization. A s
exemplified by the Patriotic Front today, the nationalists have offered the
masses, the cadres, the front-line states, the Cubans and Russians as baits
and power-factors to negotiate constitutional arrangements with the United
Kingdom or Smith, in order to assume the reins of power at the expense of
theirrivals.Consequently, the various factions have threatened to intensify
the war and to produce consequences 'too ghastly to contemplate', and have
cried 'wolf in the form of Cubans, while privately pleading with the United
Kingdom or the United States of America to intervene.
Notes
1. I have dealt elsewhere with the early stages of African resistance to settler conquest and
occupation, as well as to colonial administration. I a m here dealing with post-Second
World W a r stages of the African liberation struggle against settler rule. See David
Chanaiwa, The Zimbabwe Controversy: A Case of Colonialist Historiography, Syracuse,
Eastern African Studies Program, 1973; Profiles of Self-Determination, African
Responses to European Colonialism in Southern Africa, 1652—Present, Northridge,
Calif. State University Foundation, 1976; and "The Premiership of Garfield Todd: Racial
Partnership versus Colonial Interests', Journal of Southern African Affairs, Vol. I,
N o . 1, December 1976.
2. For the texts of the Internal Settlement see Rhodesian Constitutional Agreement, 3rd March,
1978, Salisbury, Government Printer, 1978, N o . 44. Also U . S . Department of State,
Bureau of African Affairs, AF Press Clips, Vol. XIII, N o . 10, 7 March 1978, p. 3.
3. Rhodesian Constitutional Agreement, Section A , Article I, para, a, p. 2.
4. Ibid., Article 2, p. 3.
5. Ibid., Sections B and C , pp. 3-4.
6. Ibid., Section D , Article I, pp. 4-5.
7. Ibid., Section D , Article 2, p. 5.
8. Ibid., Section A , Article I, paras, b, c and d, pp. 2-3. The term European as used in this
Agreement includes whites, coloureds and Asians.
9. Ibid., Section A , Article I, para, e, p. 3.
10. All references to the negotiation proceedings are based on confidential correspondence
between the author and personal acquaintances very close to the situation. S o m e of the
information was also obtained from the national African-managed and edited
newspaper, the Zimbabwe Times, which reported some of the proceedings.
11. Personal correspondence and The Zimbabwe Times.

12. Rhodesian Constitutional Agreement, Section A , Article 6, p. 3.
13. Ibid., Section A , Article 7, p. 3.
14. Godwin Matatu, ' A Consensus of Suspicion', Africa, N o . 80, April 1978, p. 21. Also David
B . Ottaway, 'Rhodesians Sign Pact on Black Rule', Washington Post, 4 March 1978,
reproduced in AF Press Clips, Vol. XIII, N o . 10, 7 March 1978, p. 1.
15. Matatu, op. cit., p. 22.
16. For a detailed analysis of the regional policies of the front-line states, consult Agrippah
M u g o m b a , The Foreign Policy of Despair, Nairobi, East African Literature Bureau,
1977; and especially 'Zimbabwe, Détente and Neo-Colonialism in Southern Africa', in
David Chanaiwa (ed.), Profiles of Self-Determination, pp. 415-47.
17. See, for example, 'Rhodesia: Fraught with Imponderables', Africa Confidential, Vol. 19,
N o . 6, 17 March 1978, pp. 1-3. Also, Richard R . Leger, 'All-Parties Rhodesian Peace
Conference Eludes T e a m of U . S . ' AF Press Clips, Vol. XIII, N o . 17, 26 April 1978.
19. 'Rhodesia II: W h a t O w e n Really Told Sithole', Africa Confidential, Vol. 19, N o . 17, 31
March 1978, p. 3.
20. Ibid., p. 2.
21. Ibid., p. 3.
22. Ibid., p. 2.
23. Matatu, op. cit., p. 22, and The Times (London), 13 April 1978.
25. Personal correspondence.
26. Personal interview with Sithole by the author and D r Agrippah M u g o m b a at the University
of California, Santa Barbara, on 20 November 1977. See also Munger Africana Library
Notes, Zimbabwe's Year of Freedom—Ndabaningi Sithole, N o . 43, January 1978; and
Africa Confidential, 31 March 1978.
27. Zimbabwe's Year . . ., op. cit., p. 14.
28. Ibid., p. 14.
29. For details of African nationalism in Zimbabwe during the post-Second World W a r era,
consult Eshmael M l a m b o , Rhodesia: the Struggle for a Birthright, London, C . Hurst and
C o . , 1972; Larry W . B o w m a n , Politics in Rhodesia, Cambridge, Mass., Harvard
University Press, 1973; George M . Daniels (ed.), Drums of War: The Continuing Crisis
in Rhodesia, N e w York, T h e Third Press, 1974; Enoch Dumbutshena, Zimbabwean
Tragedy, Nairobi, East African Publishing House, 1976; and Ndabaningi Sithole, African
Nationalism, London, Oxford University Press, 1968.
30. Davis B . C . M ' G a b e , "The Nationalist M o v e m e n t of Dzimbabwë, in Daniels, op. cit.,
pp. 23-8.
31. 'Southern Rhodesia African National Congress, Statement of Principles, Policy and
Program, September 1957'. in T . R . M . Creighton, The Anatomy of Partnership, p. 235,
London, Faber and Faber, 1960.
32. Ibid., p. 246.
33. Ibid., p. 245.
34. Ibid., p. 237.
35. Ibid., p. 240.
36. For details on the Federation and Partnership consult Creighton, op. cit.; M l a m b o , op. cit.;
and Nathan Shamuyarira, Crisis in Rhodesia, London, André Deutsch, 1965.
37. For details about Todd's premiership and African nationalism, David Chanaiwa, 'The
Premiership of Garfield Todd', op. cit.
38. M ' G a b e , op. cit. pp. 29-37; M l a m b o , op. cit. pp. 136-61.
39. Consult Shamuyarira, op. cit. and Chanaiwa, "The Premiership of Garfield Todd', op. cit.
94 David Chanaiwa
40. M ' G a b e , op. cit., pp. 29-37; and M l a m b o , op. cit., pp. 136-61.
41. Southern Rhodesia Constitution, Part. 1, Summary of Proposed Changes, C m n d . 1399, and
Part. II, Detailed Provisions, C m n d . 1400, London, Her Majesty's Stationery Office,
1965.
42. Ibid., Parti, pp. 3-14.
43. M l a m b o , op. cit., p. 156.
44. Ibid., p. 157.
45. Daily News, 8 February 1961.
46. John D a y , 'Southern Rhodesia African Nationalists and the 1961 Constitutions, Journal of
Modem African Studies, Vol. 7, 1969, p. 230.
47. Democratic Voice ( N D P newspaper), August 1961.
48. ' N k o m o Sacked as Z A P U Leader, Sithole Takes Charge until Congress', Tanganyika
Standard, 10 July 1963.
49. Zambia, Commission on the Assassination of Herbert Chitepo, Report, Lusaka,
Government Printer, 1 July 1975.
50. Julian Henriques, "The Struggles of the Zimbabweans: Conflicts Between the Nationalists
and with the Rhodesian Regime', African Affairs, Vol. 76, N o . 305, October 1977,
pp. 495-518.
51. Africa Confidential, Vol. 19, N o . 7, 31 March 1978, p. 2.
52. For example, see The Zimbabwe Review, official organ of Z A P U .
53. Africa Confidential, op. cit., p. 2.
54. M l a m b o , op. cit., p. 195.
55. T h e Minnesota Coalition on Southern Africa, Zimbabwe People's Army Minneapolis,
Minn., 1976; Africa Confidential, Vol. 19, N o . 7, 31 March 1978; Henriques, op. cit.;
Observer, 7 March 1976; and Guardian, 9 March 1976 and 29 June 1976.
56. Minesota Coalition, op. cit., p. 1.
57. Ibid., p. 10.
58. Africa Confidential, Vol. 19, N o . 7, 31 March 1978, pp. 1-2; and 17 March 1978, pp. 1-3.
59. Minnesota Coalition, op. cit., p. 10.
60. Ibid., p. 7.
61. Africa, N o . 65, January 1977, p. 19.
62. Ibid., and N o . 74, October 1977.
63. Ibid., N o . 65, January 1977, p. 21.
Part II
The decolonization
of the H o r n of Africa
Decolonization in the H o r n
and the outcome of Somali
aspirations for self-determination
Said Yusuf Abdi
Introduction
Except for the struggles in southern Africa, the conflicts in the H o r n are the
most explosive in Africa. T h e H o r n has been a meeting place of peoples and
cultures since time immemorial and as such the scene of continuing processes
both of conflict and assimilation.1 M o d e r n Somalia is deeply involved in
some of these conflicts, notably with its neighbours, Ethiopia and Kenya.
This can only be understood as part of a pattern of interrelationships of broad
geographical extent and historical depth, a pattern of tensions between
nationalities, historical oppressions, struggles against domination, and
economic injustices and their opposition.
In these few pages I want to discuss briefly four topics: first, Somali
history before colonialism; second, the experience of partition and colonial
domination; third, continuing fragmentation and territorial dispersion of
Somalis due to decolonization; andfinally,those factors that contribute
significantly to the solution of the Somali dispute and conflicts in the H o r n as
a whole.
The situation before European colonialism

Before being colonized in the second part of the nineteenth century, Somalis
in the H o r n formed a well-defined, autonomous community with a distinctive
way of life, language and culture.2 A t the time, i.e. before 1880, the land of
the Somalis was k n o w n to the outside world as the land of Punt. T h e Somalis
recognized themselves as a well-integrated nation, unified by language,
religion, culture, a shared economy and a decentralized political system
based on the assembly of clan m e m b e r s (the Shir) c o m m o n a m o n g all the
clans. There is ample early historical documentation of the Somali nation, its
culture, economic relations, social and political organization, its contiguous
habitation, c o m m o n linguistics, and co-operation against external forces.3
T h e Somalis possessed precisely that degree of culturally based national
98 Said Yusuf Abdi
unity to which the Ethiopians and Kenyans today aspire. F r o m Djibouti in

the north to the Tana River (now in Kenya) in the south, to the A w a s h in the
n o w disputed Ogaden region, they shared a c o m m o n language, enjoyed a
rich oral literature centred on poetic forms, organized communal life around
similar egalitarian social institutions, c o m m o n ancestry and known genea-
logical relationships.4
Related and intertwined with Somali history has been Ethiopian
political history. In the fourth century a military aristocracy arose in what is
n o w north-central Ethiopia, whose leaders expanded their rule by conquest
over the centuries, incorporating a host of different peoples and ethnic
groups in the process. During a series of cyclical expansions and withdrawals,
marked by resistance from other nationalities in the H o r n , Ethiopia's centre
of power m o v e d steadily southward until it reached the present capital of
Addis A b a b a . A n important mark in the long history of successful Ethiopian
expansion pertinent to present happenings occurred in 1527, when the
Somali leader A h m e d GurayjWhile resisting Ethiopian expansion, came close
to extinguishing the culture of the highlands and replacing it throughout the
H o r n of Africa with a Somali-dominated state. But the A m h a r a ruling class
survived this threat with Portuguese support, and the Somali expansion was
pushed back. Thus the Somali-Ethiopian conflict dates from the early
sixteenth century, w h e n cannon supplied by Portugal furthered Ethiopian
expansion.
While thefluctuatingpower of Ethiopia m a d e it impossible for a clear
line to be drawn, it was generally true up to the 1970s that the Ogaden (or
western Somalia) lay outside the Ethiopian kingdom. Turkey, which earlier
had staked a claim to various R e d Sea ports, transferred its authority to
Egypt's Khedive Ismail in 1866. Then Egypt, after expanding into a few
Somali ports like Zeila, Bulhar and Berbera, moved inland to establish a
garrison in the ancient commercial city of Harrar. The Egyptians nominated
as sultans Somali headmen elected through clan assemblies. But the
Egyptians withdrew as a result of the Mahdi revolt in the Sudan in 1886,
which required a concentration of Egyptian resources and caused a drastic
curtailment of commitments elsewhere. W e a k and unarmed, Harrar then, as
before Egyptian occupation, was forced to engage itself time and again in
defensive armed struggle against the expansionist aggression of Ethiopia.
The impact of colonialism

European contacts with the H o r n , except for the early involvement of the
Portuguese, were limited until 1869, w h e n the opening of the Suez Canal
focused attention upon the area's strategic importance. Somalis became
The outcome of Somali 99
drawn into a theatre of colonial competition between the United Kingdom,

France and Italy. T h e existing artificial frontiers in the H o r n are the result of
the European scramble for African territories, when British, French and
Italian interests converged competitively in and around the Horn. But two
African powers were involved. These were Egypt, though its presence was
brief (1866-86), and later and more crucially, Ethiopia. T h e European
scramble coincided with a consolidation of power in Ethiopia under Menelik
II and the extension of the central authority. The expansionist campaigns of
this emperor took place while the Europeans were partitioning the Somali
coast.
Menelik's expansion into Somali-inhabited territories began in 1886,
soon after the Egyptian withdrawal from Harrar. This brought into the open
the nearly five hundred years of intermittent traditional conflicts of the
Somalis with the occupants of the Ethiopian plateau. Harrar, under the
Egyptians, had acted as a buffer between the Ethiopians and the Somalis.
But the Ethiopians having seized the city (entirely inhabited by Somalis up to
then) in 1887, Menelik appointed his cousin, Ras M a k o n n e n , as governor,
and set up a stockaded c a m p to the east at Jijiga. T h e Somalis, with their
large herds, were attacked by parties sent out to raid for meat for the hungry
garrison at Harrar. They were forced to pay tribute and to provide livestock
for the Ethiopian forces. T h e Italians, w h o meanwhile had established
themselves in Eritrea, sought arms for Ethiopia under the impression that the
Italo-Ethiopian Treaty of 1889 (the Ucciali Treaty) m a d e Ethiopia an Italian
protectorate.
In 1890 Italy had sponsored Ethiopian participation in the Brussels
General Act, which empowered Ethiopia as a state to import munitions
legally, thus legitimizing the active arms trade it had been carrying on for
some years with French merchants. The influx of modern weapons completely
destabilized the relationship between indigenous forces, enabling Menelik to
consolidate his control over the plateau as part of his o w n imperial mission.
In ten years, Menelik doubled the size of the Ethiopian kingdom. T h e
importation of arms resulted in the occupation of the lands of various
nationalities not previously part of the empire. However, the British, w h o
were holding the Somali coast, did not allow the importation of arms, and the
Somalis, for all their attempts at resistance, were helpless before the
Ethiopian soldiers. In addition, the Ethiopians, using their new Italian arms,
routed the Italian army at the Battle of A d o w a in 1896, resulting in their
recognition by European powers as a force to be reckoned with.
T h e following year, 1897, was a banner year for Ethiopia. Each of its
European colonial neighbours pressed for Ethiopian friendship and each
contracted with Ethiopia for its claim in Somalia. Though a great year for
Ethiopia, it was thus a bad one for the Somalis, w h o were neither consulted
100 Said Yusuf Abdi
before nor informed after the agreements. T h e year 1897 remains the crucial
one in the imperial history of the H o r n of Africa, and the boundary
agreements m a d e then have left a legacy of indétermination and confusion
that still poisons relations between Ethiopia and Somalia, and between
Somalia and Kenya. B y the end of the nineteenth century the Somali people
in the H o r n were subjected to a multitude of foreign masters. They were
divided five ways into British, French and Italian Somalilands, an enclave in
Kenya, and another in Ethiopia. T h e Somalis were carved up in such a way as
to leave the great interior to Ethiopia, the coastal blocks to Italy and the
United Kingdorn,and a small but commercially important piece to France.
F r o m 1897 to 1935, with the exception of a 1908 convention between Italy
and Ethiopia, clarifying boundaries in certain areas and leaving others vague,
the colonial powers retained the political frontiers dividing the Somali
people. These boundaries left m e m b e r s of each of the major clans in two or
more different jurisdictions.
T h e 1936 Italo-Ethiopian W a r , escalating from the Walwal incident (a
dispute over Somali wells and pastures), resulted in Italy overrunning
Ethiopia and, with the outbreak of war in Europe in 1939, British Somaliland
as well. All the Somalis, except those in northern Kenya and French
Somaliland, were placed under a single administration. W h e n the Second
World W a r ended in 1945, power passed from the Italians to the British
military administration, which was in de facto control of all the Somalilands.
This would have been a propitious time to unite this culturally, religiously
and linguistically homogeneous nation. Ernest Bevin, British Foreign
Secretary, in 1946, proposed such a union (a rare example of British
departure from anti-Somali policies). But his vision carried little weight with
the Ethiopians and the French, and the territories, by 1950, returned to the
status quo ante. Bevin's proposal was flawed by the provisions requiring
Ethiopian agreement and proposing a British trusteeship. Owing to big-
power politics within the four-power commission (United Kingdom, France,
the United States, and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics), and
deference to Ethiopian claims over Somali interests, the plan failed. M o r e
threatening, set against the favourable omens for a unified Somali nation,
was the return of Haile Selassie, with his ambitions over Eritrean and Somali
territories.5
After ceding western Somalia (the Ogaden) in 1948 to Ethiopia, but
retaining certain residualrightsof supervision over Somali clans in the H a u d ,
the eastern section of the Ogaden, the British Government m a d e a last futile
effort to fulfil its original protective treaties with the Somalis by offering to
purchase the southern and western grazing areas of the Somali clans, but
Haile Selassie rejected the idea. Another significant postwar event for the
Somalis was the attempt by the Western Allies to reward and encourage their
former Italian enemies for their departure from fascism, and to discourage
any m o v e by them towards c o m m u n i s m , by arranging for the return of the
former Italian Somaliland to their administration as a United Nations
trusteeship to be led to independence over a ten-year period.
Somali aspirations during decolonization
From the beginning of colonization, Somalis had fought without cease for
national unity and independence against an overpowering flow of events which
resulted in administrative fragmentation of their people. After first vainly
appealing to the British and other colonial powers for redress, a sense of peril
and injury impelled them to unite under the leadership of Sayid M o h a m m e d
Abdullah Hassan, a great Somali poet w h o had become a national hero. 6 In
1900, only three years after the crucial and tragic events of 1897, a revolt
under Sayid M o h a m m e d ' s leadership marked thefirstphase of twenty years
of armed Somali resistance. From 1900 to 1920, he fought all invaders:
Ethiopians, British and Italians. H e held the British at bay for twenty years
by his great tactical ability and political skill. His aim was the liberation of all
Somalis from every alien power. But superior technology in the form of
twelve aeroplanes and coastal gunships, the first to be deployed in Africa,
caused him to abandon his fortresses, and dispersed the resistance.
However, the Somali resistance to colonial rule continued through
successes and failures. It is beyond the scope of this paper to detail both the
peaceful and armed perpetual resistance of Somalis in defending themselves
and their c o m m o n civilization against foreign overlordship. In the late 1940s
and early 1950s, fruitless petitions to the four-power commission and to the
British government by such Somali nationalist groups as the Somali Youth
League (formerly the Somali Youth Club) and the National United Front
( N U F ) , bore n o fruit. T h e Somali National League ( S N L ) in British
Somaliland, of which the National United Front had been an organ, then
formed a platform calling for immediate independence, while the N U F ,
which broke away, called for a transitional period of self-government. In an
election for a general assembly in early 1960, the S N L , in liaison with the
United Somali Party, w o n thirty-two out of thirty-three seats. T h e British
then accepted their demands and set the date for independence in that same
year. Meanwhile, in the Italian trusteeship, the United Nations deadline for
independence had arrived, and the Somali Youth League dominated the
elections held there. With independence approaching in both territories, the
two assemblies reached an accord for unification which was implemented on
the day (1 July) that independence came to the south (five days after the
northern territory). This unification was not an act of territorial aggrandize-
102 Said Yusuf Abdi
ment, aggression or expansionism. It was a positive contribution to peace and

unity in Africa and was m a d e possible by the application of the principle of
the right of self-determination. T w o Somali entities divided by colonialism
united, pursuant to accords negotiated during the months preceding
independence. Fusion of the Protectorate and the Trust Territory was the
first step towards the achievement of Somali national unity, and the Somalis
were determined it would not be the last.
Since independence, Somalia has championed the cause of self-
determination of their co-nationals in Ethiopia and Kenya. Through the
Organization of African Unity ( O A U ) , the United Nations and other
international forums, through direct negotiations with respective gover-
nments, through intermediaries such as Kenneth Kaunda and Julius Nyerere,
Somalis have tried to publicize their strong argument for self-determined,
unified administration for the culturally homogeneous and territorially
contiguous Somali people. Internally, in the Ogaden (western Somalia to the
Somali people) and former Northern Frontier District of Kenya (now the
North-eastern Province), Somalis have been engaged in armed struggle,
fluctuating with the amity or enmity of their antagonists.7 The majority of the
Somalis in the Ethiopian section, especially in the lower and drier areas,
never came under effective Ethiopian administration, whose officials could
not control the semi-nomadic, culturally proud and resistant Somalis.
After the achievement of independence in two parts of their old
political domain, Somalis became more resolved to see their other
partitioned kin freed. F r o m the inception of Somalia's autonomy, border
clashes began with Ethiopia, but these were relatively low-keyed. However,
since Kenya had not yet achieved its independence, the major emphasis in
these years was to obtain self-determination for the Somalis annexed to
Kenya in the Northern Frontier District.8 Historically, the N F D had a long
history of separate administration, though it was governed with Kenya.
Before Kenya's independence, a referendum was carried out by the British,
which showed that the N F D population almost unanimously favoured
secession from Kenya with the object of ultimately joining the Somali
Republic. But the British colonial government refused to abide by this
verdict, and the wishes of the Somali population in the N F D were ignored. In
addition to insisting that the N F D remain with Kenya, the British also cut off
from the new region other ethnic groups akin to the Somalis w h o shared the
same aim. W h e n attempts were m a d e by the Somalis to take arms to liberate
themselves, Kenyans, with British aid, used ruthless counter-insurgency
techniques to crush Somali nationalism. But for four years, beginning from
the period immediately prior to Kenya's independence in December 1963,
Somalis waged an armed struggle and launched a series of attacks on Kenyan
government installations, including police posts at R h a m u and Liboi, and
penetrated deeper into Kenya with attacks on Marsabit, Isiolo, L a m u and

other settlements. In both 1963 and 1967 there were moves towards peaceful
negotiations between Somalia and Kenya, though they came to nothing.
W h e n the Ogaden war broke out in 1977, however, Kenya became afraid
that if it were successful Somalia's next target would be north-eastern Kenya.
Thus the Kenyan Government has taken steps reminiscent of those of the
early 1960s when Somalis were engaged in guerrilla war in the North-eastern
Province. T h e Kenyans tightened security, lobbied against Western support
for Somalia in the Ogaden, and restricted the mobility of the Somali
population.
Meanwhile, the French began to lose their hold on French Somaliland,
whose principal economic significance was the railway line to Addis A b a b a ,
and therefore the main port for m u c h of Ethiopia. While the population, as
the colonial n a m e indicated, was mainly Somali, members of a related but
distinct ethnic group, the Afars, had also migrated into the territory from the
north and south. Both the French and the Ethiopians, under whose
jurisdiction most Afars lived, cultivated Afar leaders in an effort to blunt
Somali demands for unification with other Somalis, and to delay indepen-
dence. In 1967, after a visit by General de Gaulle, the territory was renamed
the Territory of the Afars and Issas, and an election for a local parliament
held, in which the Somalis complained of widespread disfranchisement and
ultimately boycotted the elections. Finally in 1975 independence was granted
to the area, n o w named the Republic of Djibouti. I have discussed this aspect
of decolonization in the Horn more fully elsewhere.9 A t the m o m e n t , the
achievement of self-determination, and a relatively amicable relationship
between the two major groups, has blunted demands for Somali unification,
though these might arise in the future as a result of irreconcilable
contradictions between the two major ethnic groups.
The Somalis' desire to regain their lost independence constitutes a
grave future problem for the Somali, Kenyan, Ethiopian and Djiboutian
governments. The background history w e have recounted must be set against
some of the recent difficulties and explosive confrontations in the Horn. T h e
conflicts with Ethiopia and Kenya are no different from the struggles that
brought about the end of the British, French and Portuguese empires. T h e
demands for self-determination and independence being voiced by the
Somalis are no different in essence (though shades exist) from those being
voiced in Namibia and Z i m b a b w e , with the single exception that the
colonizing powers are not Europeans.
104 Said Yusuf Abdi
Conclusion: Somali nationalism and possible

future courses of colonial disengagement
Adequate, concrete and specific terms of settlement for the H o r n dispute will
only be forthcoming if there is serious willingness and commitment from all
parties involved to understand h o w the unabating and insistent desires of
Somalis in the H o r n can b e c o m e the eye in the storm.
First a strong concern of the states in the H o r n should be to avoid
client-state relationships with the big powers. A key element in the strategy
of the superpowers, former colonial powers and emerging powers is to
expand military assistance and other economic aid to the H o r n in order to
create powerful client states. These practices exaggerate regional and local
tensions and increase turmoil. H o r n problems could be perceived as another
test for superpower confrontations. T h e long-term effect of external power
involvement m a y well be to intensify domestic conflicts in individual states,
exacerbate regional tensions and heighten the chances of direct great-power
involvement. Superpower policies must be neutralized and m a d e m o r e
sensitive to the local nature of conflict formation in the H o r n . R a y m o n d L .
Thurston, w h o served as United States Ambassador to Somalia from 1965 to
1968, advocates in relation to American policy that:
The prime objective of the United States should be to remove the Horn of Africa
from the zone of strategic and ideological confrontation between the superpowers and
to permit the peoples of the area to develop in freedom within boundaries in
accordance with ethnic, religious and linguistic, i.e. national, realities. If the United
States continues to content itself with pious expressions of hope for a settlement
between the disputants and unimaginative support for the territorial status quo in the
Horn, it must be prepared to accept an eventual pattern of power, not only in the
Horn but in other parts of Africa, adverse to its long-run interests and in the interests
and welfare of Africans themselves.10
Soviet justifications for protecting Ethiopian territorial integrity are an

opportunistic exploitation of African sentiments opposing territorial
changes. It should not be forgotten that the U S S R supported secession of
East Pakistan (Bangladesh) from Pakistan. Soviet and American policies, in
order to advance their discordant interests, intensify H o r n conflicts. They
superimpose their superpower rivalry on conflicts of a local nature.
Secondly, it must be recognized that the O A U ' s legalistic insistence o n
colonial territorial boundaries encourages the maintenance of political
incongruities that weaken Africa and h a m p e r its development. M u c h Ö g a d e n
Somali and Eritrean blood has been shed by their enemies in the n a m e of the
O A U principle. African governments are silent and reluctant to discuss these
questions meaningfully. Inter-African disputes, foreign intervention, and
nationality repression are all side-stepped by the O A U . T h e O A U has

become a club of governments that depend upon the maintenance of colonial
boundaries as a part of the status quo. It is imperative, for it to be an effective
peacemaker and unifier of Africa, to recognize that the principle of
self-determination applies with equal vigour to all peoples, dependent or
independent.
Thirdly, international organizations and world opinion can initiate and
implement policies conducive to the resolution of the H o r n conflict. T h e
provisions of the United Nations Charter for the direction of international
interest upon the conditions of all oppressed nationalities annexed against
their wishes would apply with complete propriety to the regions and peoples
of Somalia. The Somali position is obviously supported by the rights collated
under the heading of self-determination that have been endorsed, not only by
all nationalists, but also by the United Nations Charter and repeatedly by the
General Assembly, which in Resolution 545 of 5 February 1952 pronounced
that the Covenant on H u m a n Rights must contain the provision that 'all
peoples shall have the right to self-determination'. Certainly this should
apply to a historic nation. In effect, in the draft to the Covenant of H u m a n
Rights presented in 1964 to the United Nations, Article I affirms the right of
peoples to self-determination, thus giving the principle priority even over the
historic Rights of M a n , which the United Nations set forth in its declarations
of 1948. n T h e Somali demands in western Somalia (Ogaden) and the
North-eastern Province in Kenya are thus in accordance with present
international law, which recognizes the right to self-determination for people
under colonialism. United Nations actions and support for this principle of
self-determination would relieve oppressed peoples, liquidate of all forms of
colonialism and strengthen the organization's status and operative mechan-
ism.
Finally, long-term, positive and ultimately successful policy for the
resolution of the Somali problem m a y be one that would lead to a resolution
of the outstanding problems of the entire H o r n . This m a y involve creation of
national political autonomies for all major nationalities within their
economically functional, culturally homogeneous, territorially contiguous
and administratively effective entities, within larger regional, economic,
political and cultural groupings, the form of which could be negotiated
through grass-root movements. The H o r n of Africa is a natural economic
unit, and its people have a great deal in c o m m o n . Co-operative plans in
agriculture as a result of long-term schemes for the development of the Juba
and W e b i Shebell rivers, efforts for improved range management, co-
partnership in oil research, collaboration in the development of the interior
and more effective utilization and exploitation of the R e d Sea and Indian
Ocean, and mutual desires to recast all forms of social underdevelopment,
106 Said Yusuf Abdi
would all help to meet the needs fo the people in the area. Age-old hostilities
siphon off most resources into armaments and m a k e the peoples pawns in
conflicts a m o n g powers that do not consider the interests of the people in the
Horn. Higher levels of co-operation are needed in this era of power blocs,
where small nations cannot be economically viable, to resolve the Horn's
problems and place its people's economic and political destinies in their o w n
hands.
Notes
1. The Horn is more a metaphor, based on the sharp eastward thrust of the African continent
near the equator, than a political entity. With no precise western or southern boundaries,
it is conveniently thought of as embracing Somalia, Ethiopia (including western Somalia
and Eritrea), Djibouti, the north-eastern part of Kenya and sometimes the Sudan.
2. See I. M . Lewis, 'Somaliland Before Partition', The Modern History of Somaliland
pp. 18-39, N e w York, Frederick A . Praeger, Inc., 1965,
3. A m o n g these, I recommend especially The Periplus of the Erythrean Sea, by a Greek
mariner ( A . D . 60); the writings of Arab medieval scholars, including Al-Yaqubi (ninth
century), Al-Masudi ( A . D . 933), Al-Istakhri (960), Ibn Hawgal (977), Al-Barruni (1030),
Al-i-drissi (1154), Yaqut (1229), lb-Said (1344), Ibna Battuta (1331), Al-Harrani (1344),
and The Book of the Zengi; Chinese contacts with Somalis recorded in Tuan Cheng-shih's
Yu-Yang-tsa-tsu (ninth century) and in the journals of C h e n g - H o , w h o m a d e three visits
to Somalia in the early 1400s; and some records of Portuguese visits from the late 1400s
onwards. S o m e of the more distant history of the Somalis has been reconstructed from
oral sources, genealogical accounts and linguistic analyses. Other Western publications
about early history m a y be found in I. M . Lewis's annotated bibliography in his Peoples
of the Horn of Africa, London, L o w e and Brydone, 1955.
4. Despite the Somalis' c o m m o n ancestry and cultural bonds they were divided intofivelarge
clan families, Hawiye, Darod, Isaaq, Dir, and the Digil-Rahanweyn (which were closely
akin). These bigger clans were subdivided into smaller clans and in turn into patriarchal
families. Although distinctions and allegiances based on clan-group affiliation are n o w
illegal in the Somali Republic, such distinctions in past history were occasionally sources
of internal friction and segmentation. In discussing Somali unity, the author does not
ignore or de-emphasize George Simmel's thesis that contradiction and conflict are
operative in unity at every m o m e n t of its existence. Internal quarrels among Somali
groups have always been present and could persist in the future. But dominating
everything else, Somalis are united in language, culture, egalitarian social, political and
economic institutions, c o m m o n ancestry, and millennial habitation of contiguous areas.
5. Key words from Haile Selassie's mobilization proclamation in 1935 were: 'Italy prepares a
second time to violate our territory . . . soldiers, gather around your chiefs and thrust
back the invader. Y o u shall have lands in Eritrea and your Somaliland.' (Emphasis
added.)
5. O f the many writings on Sayid M o h a m m e d , two Western references, which despite their
derogatory titles try to detail his campaigns, are Douglas Jardine, The Mad Mullah of
Somaliland, London, 1923, and Robert L . Hess, "The Poor M a n of G o d : M u h a m m a d
Abdulla Hassan', in N o r m a n R . Bennett (ed.), Leadership in Eastern Africa: Six
Biographies, Boston, Boston University Press, 1968. Again see "The Dervish Fight for
Freedom : 1900-20', in Lewis, op. cit.
7. For the western Somali struggle, see Hussein M . A d a m and Bobe, "The Western Somali
Liberation Front', Halgan, September 1977; ' A n Interview with W S L F ' , by an unnamed
American professor, in The Horn of Africa, Vol. I, N o . 2, April/June; and 'Voices of the
Ogaden', West Africa, 6 February 1978.
8. For early Somali dissatisfaction in the Northern Frontier District see E . R . Turton, "The
Isaq Somali Diaspora and Poll-Tax Agitation in Kenya, 1936-41', African Affairs,
Vol. 73, N o . 292, July 1974. A m p l e additional documentation exists in the East African,
Somali, Ethiopian and some Soviet and Western newspapers and periodicals of the time.
9. Said Yusuf Abdi, 'Independence for the Afars and Issas: Complex Background, Uncertain
Future', Africa Today, Vol. 24, N o . 1, January/March 1977; and 'Mini-Republic of
Djibouti: Problems and Prospects', The Horn of Africa, April/June 1978.
10. R a y m o n d L . Thurston 'The United States, Somalia and the Crisis in the Horn,' The Horn
of Africa, April/June 1978, p. 20.
11. 'All people have therightof self-determination. By virtue of thatrightthey freely determine
their political status and freely pursue their economic, social and cultural development.'
The survival of the national
culture in Somalia during and after
the colonial era
B . W . Andrzejewski
While various aspects of the history of Somalia have received attention in

scholarly literature,1 the process of the country's cultural decolonization has
not been discussed anywhere in detail. This process consisted in preserving
and strengthening the national culture against the inroads of colonial
influences, which Jaamac C u m a r Ciise, a Somali historian w h o until 1972
wrote in Arabic, has aptly described as al-istïmâr al-fikrî, 'the colonization
of thought'. In the following passage from a work published in 1965 he
elucidates the meaning of this phrase in his usual vivid style, portraying s o m e
u n n a m e d , sophisticated colonial leader as he addresses his colleagues and
recommends the most effective treatment of the subject population:
The Western people colonized the Eastern people by power, but power does not
endure: it moves from one nation to another. In m y opinion it is the colonization of
thought that endures. Publicize the good qualities which you have and the
shortcomings they have, and conceal your shortcomings and their good qualities.
After that they will look upon you with admiration and upon themselves they will
look with contempt.2
This overvaluation of what is foreign and undervaluation of what is Somali

has also been referred to m o r e recently as gumeysi maskaxeed, 'the
colonization of the brain', in the Somali mass media.
Let us examine n o w the main aspects of cultural colonization in
Somalia. Before 1940 very little modern education had been introduced
anywhere in the Somali-speaking territories, but the Second World W a r
brought substantial changes in this field. A modern type of education
gradually began to develop, which in the 1950s had reached a point where a
network of government schools up to secondary level had been built up, both
by the British and the Italian administrations, while in Mogadishu steps were
also taken to develop s o m e branches of higher education, such as law,
economics and public administration. T h e m e d i u m of instruction was English
or Italian, according to the language of the administration, and the curricula
were inspired almost entirely by the British and Italian education systems,
with only minor concessions to the culture of the students, such as the
The survival 109
of the national culture in Somalia
teaching of the Islamic religion and Arabic and the inclusion of some
elements of local history or folklore with a minimalistic bias. T h e highest goal
presented to the students was the passing of the foreign examinations that
would allow them to enter foreign universities, and as a result those young
people w h o went to school knew a great deal about the cultures their
expatriate teachers brought to them and very little about their o w n . In fact,
their constant preoccupation with the passing of examinations related to
these curricula m a d e it difficult for them to absorb even the rudiments of
their o w n national culture from their parents and kinsmen. Furthermore,
young Somalis learning such subjects as mathematics, science or technology
through the m e d i u m of foreign languages soon discovered that the concepts
used in these branches of knowledge had no words in Somali that could
express them, and they were thus left with the impression that their mother
tongue was inadequate and inherently inferior to the foreign languages they
learned. This was sometimes aggravated by the lack of linguistic sophistica-
tion of some expatriate teachers, w h o spoke of Somali as being merely a
'dialect' and not a language. Even worse was the situation with regard to the
teaching of literature, for very few expatriate teachers had a knowledge of
the Somali language and even fewer were acquainted with its poetry. Their
Somali students were often so alienated from their o w n cultural background
and so ignorant of their o w n poetic idiom that the more naïve a m o n g them
imagined that the poems of foreign writers, which they studied for advanced
examinations, were aesthetically superior to those of even the best poets of
Somalia.
Success within this educational system offered substantial rewards in
terms of opportunities for government and business employment and
scholarships for higher education abroad. These incentives increased with the
approaching date of independence and strengthened the motivation to obtain
good examination results and to become proficient in a foreign language. T h e
foreign type of education also favoured the imitation of foreign styles of life
a m o n g the alumni of the government schools, and such styles often led to a
desire for the elevated standard of living enjoyed by the expatriate
employees w h o m they were to replace.
It m a y seem paradoxical that the degree of cultural colonization
increased in Somalia after 1960, the year of independence, and continued to
do so until the revolutionary government took over in 1969 and began to take
steps designed to halt it. There can be little doubt that one of the main causes
of the continuation of the totally foreign system of education even in
independent Somalia was the lack of a national orthography for the Somali
language, and for this shortcoming the foreign administrations were not
directly responsible. Already in the early 1920s an excellent and highly
efficient system of writing Somali had been invented by Cismaan Yuusuf
110 B. W. Andrzejewski
Keenadiid, using completely n e w symbols, while in 1932/33 a system using

the Arabic alphabet was developed by M a x a m e d Cabdi Makaahiil. In 1951, a
two-year research project was completed on a R o m a n orthography for Somali
at the Department of Education in the British Protectorate, and this was later
developed further by two eminent Somali scholars, M u u s e Xaaji Ismaaciil
Galaal and Shire Jaamac A x m e d . Yet all these systems, and several others,
met with the fierce hostility of one or other sections of the Somali public, and
only the revolutionary government was able to resolve these conflicts and to
introduce a national orthography in R o m a n script.3
Nearly thirty years of a foreign type of education in this crucial period
in the development of the country would most probably have caused
irreversible damage to the Somali national culture had it not been for the zeal
and the dedicated labours of Somali poets, playwrights and collectors of oral
literature.
The role of poets
Since as far back in history as oral traditions can reach, the Somali people
have had a vigorous poetic art. Before the Second World W a r two types of
oral poetry were practised, the classical genres and the so-called 'miniature'
genres. T h e former, a m o n g which the gabay, the jiifto, the guurow, the
geeraar and the buraanbur are the best k n o w n , were in the main the poetry of
the public forum, which commented on current events and often influenced
them. T h e best practitioners of these genres had such prestige and popularity
that they could, through oral transmission, reach the large masses of the
public even over great distances. T h e miniature genres, though equally
cherished, were concerned with matters of lesser import, such as entertain-
ment at dances or providing relief for monotonous pursuits, for instance
watering camels, weaving mats, poundings cereals, rowing or long-distance
marching.
In the public recitation of the classical genres there is one feature that is
not always present in the oral poetry of other countries: the reciters regard
verbatim memorization of the poet's words as the ideal, and their reputations
depend on this, for a m o n g their audiences they are likely to find people w h o
have memorized the particular p o e m previously and will hotly challenge any
deviations from what they believe to be the original version. Memorization is
helped by the fact that classical poems are seldom longer than 500 lines, with
about 200 lines as the average, and that they have an alliteration that is the
same in all the lines; p o e m s with short lines must have at least one word
beginning with the chosen sound in each line, while poems with longer lines
divided by a caesura must have such a word in each half-line. In addition to
The survival 111
this constraint, classical poetry has strict quantitative patterns which, though
not easy to handle, act as a further mnemonic aid. All these features of the
classical genres have without doubt contributed to the richness of the poetic
language, which o n the one hand preserves m a n y lexical and grammatical
archaisms and on the other contains words newly coined by the poets to meet
the demands of alliteration and scansion.
T o practise therichand beautiful classical poetry or even to understand
and enjoy it, the listener has to develop a thorough familiarity with its special
vocabulary and idiom, m u c h of which is connected with pastoral life. Y o u n g
people in government schools, preoccupied with the passing of foreign
examinations, had no time, and young workers in the fast-growing townships
were too far removed from the traditional environment, to keep in touch with
the poetic heritage of their country, and a total cultural split might have
occurred had it not been for the modern poets w h o arose to meet the
challenge of the times. In the late 1940s and early 1950s, a n e w type of poetry
began to be practised, mainly in towns, and it acquired the n a m e of heello
from the meaningless words 'heellooy, heelleellooy' that always preceded its
recitation as a kind of signature tune. T h e heello soon attracted poets of
talent and reached great heights of aesthetic achievement, even though it
relaxed greatly the constraints of scansion characteristic of the classical
genres. It freed itself to a large extent from the burden of an archaic
vocabulary and idiom and thus became readily intelligible to people w h o no
longer had their roots in rural life. It is worthy of note that the heello poets,
far from being antagonistic to the poets using classical genres, admired them
greatly and often drew their inspiration from them, especially in the field of
poetic imagery. S o m e of the heello poets also composed occasionally in the
classical genres, thus becoming living bridges between the gradually
diverging cultures of rural and urban Somalia. 4
T h e success of the heello was also due to the fact that, although it
began as love poetry, it soon became the poetry of the public forum and its
overt love themes were put to use as convenient covers for disseminating
patriotic political propaganda so well disguised that it often deceived the
censors. It also provided excellent programme material for broadcasting, or
for entertainment in cafés, restaurants or even barbershops, as the p o e m s
were normally sung to the accompaniment of instrumental music. B y the late
1950s, one could find m o r e heello poets and performers at broadcasting
stations than news-readers or commentators, while from time to time,
especially on solemn occasions, practitioners of the classical genres were
invited to broadcast.
T h e association between poets and broadcasters had more than one
beneficial consequence. A s poets had always been regarded as the guardians
of the purity of the lanuage, they quite naturally took over the role of arbiters
of excellence at the broadcasting stations. Professional broadcasters not only

deferred to their judgement but asked for their advice in the exacting task of
translating world news bulletins for the general public, most of w h o m were
pastoralists and subsistence farmers. The Somali language had to expand its
vocabulary either by borrowing from foreign languages or by coining new
words from existing resources, and the daily contact with poets m a d e the
second of these two choices inevitable. During the period between 1940 and
1972, the broadcasters created a whole n e w vocabulary of modern terms,
mostly of pure Somali origin, by combining existing roots and affixes in new
ways, compounding words, reviving archaisms and shifting the semantic
ranges of ordinary words to n e w , specialized meanings. 5 They were so
efficient in their work of modernizing the language that w h e n written Somali
was introduced in 1972 the newly born press had at its disposal all the modern
terms necessary for writing about current affairs at h o m e and abroad with
ease and with the certainty of being understood by the general public, w h o
even in the remotest districts had always listened to the radio.
T h e broadcasters also set the pattern of lexical expansion, which was
followed by Somali educationalists, after the introduction of the national
orthography, in the creation of a n e w vocabulary for mathematics, science
and linguistics. T h e new terms again show their creators' reliance on the rich
resources of the Somali language, and include only a modicum of borrowed
international terms, such as the words for 'logarithm', 'atom' and the
elements.6 It is not surprising, given the Somali cultural scene, to find that a
professor of mathematics at the National University, M a x a m u u d Nuur
Caalim, is also a poet and composes poems in alliterative verse that comment
on or explain mathematical operations.
At times the influence of poets in the process of cultural decolonization
has been direct. In 1960 one of the leading poets, Cali Sugulle, openly
censured the preference given in government employment to people w h o
knew English or Italian well, and questioned the value of a foreign type of
education. T h e refrain of the p o e m appealed so m u c h to the Somali public
that it has acquired the currency of a proverb: 'Does knowledge m e a n
knowing a foreign language?' In other lines he uses such strongly emotive
statements as: ' W e are slaves to the language of foreigners/Demented by
thirst w e have lost our way.' 7
The role of playwrights
A relatively recent innovation, barely thirty-five years old, is the Somali

theatre, wich provides highly popular entertainment, especially in towns, and
The survival 113
successfully competes with feature films, as these are all foreign. T h e

important, serious parts of plays are in alliterative verse, but these are
interspersed with light, often humorous scenes in prose; the plots usually deal
with topical subjects or everyday situations, and contain didactic and
reformist messages, which m a n y playwrights like to put over through satire.8
A m o n g their favourite targets is the indiscriminate use of foreign words and
phrases by s o m e townspeople, w h o m they depict as pompous fools, as in a
scene from the popular play Shabeelnaagood (Leopard a m o n g the W o m e n )
by Xasan Sheekh M u u m i n . A Somali w o m a n doctor comes to visit a girl and
talks to her mother in a ridiculous mixture of Somali and English, finally even
admitting, during a discussion of the girl's diet, that he has forgotten the
Somali n a m e of one of the favourite local dishes, for which the mother
roundly scolds her. 9
Sometimes playwrights show the tragic effects of imported customs in a
direct way, and a play by Cali Sugulle, Kalahaab iyo kalahaad (Wide Apart
and Flown Asunder), centres on the evil effects on the hero of drinking
alcohol.10 Straightforward protest can also be found, and in Samawada,
which takes its title from the n a m e of the heroine, A x m e d Cartan Xaange
attacks the arrogance of foreign teachers. In one scene his heroine, w h o is a
schoolgirl engaged in a clandestine patriotic m o v e m e n t during the early
stages of the post-war Italian administration, walks out of the classroom
angered by these words of her teacher:
In matters of culture there is no country and no nation which excels Italy. W e brought
the light of knowledge to the whole of Europe. The light which we have raised high
has illumined every region, including Africa. Julius Caesar, Michelangelo, Dante,
Garibaldi—who has not heard about these immortal men! It has been the good
fortune of Somalia to have been linked with Italy!11
T h e role of collectors of oral literature
While the activities of poets and playwrights had an immediate influence on

the process of cultural decolonization, the work of the collectors of oral
literature had a delayed but no less beneficial effect. In the early 1950s a
number of Somalis had become increasingly aware that this great national
heritage was in danger, especially in its older layers, of being considerably
eroded. Working in their spare time and at their o w n expense, and using the
various scripts available to them at the time, they began to write d o w n
materials from poetry reciters and narrators; by the mid-1950s they were
greatly aided in their task by the advent of portable tape-recorders. W h e n
Somalia became independent several collectors were offered employment in
the newly formed Cultural Department of the Ministry of Education so that

they could continue this useful work; in 1973, responsibility for it was
transferred to the A c a d e m y of Culture, a research and publishing institute
set up by the Somali government after the Ministry of Education was
reorganized.
Although the work of collecting oral literature was thus aided and
subsidized by the state, there were also still some private collectors, w h o
were often no less efficient than their professional colleagues. Since 1950, a
very large body of works has been written d o w n , and after the introduction of
a national orthography some of it began to appear in books, journals and
newspapers. Even more importantly, these materials became available for
the education system w h e n the Somali language and literature became
subjects in schools, adult evening classes and at the National University.
At the very beginning of this campaign of preserving oral literature a
wholesome theoretical approach developed in Somalia, thanks to the labours
of such scholars as M u u s e Xaaji Ismaaciil Galaal, Shire Jaamac A x m e d , Xirsi
M a g a n , Jaamac C u m a r Ciise, C u m a r A w N u u x and others.12 They were
aware that collecting just the oral texts, especially in the case of poetry,
would not be enough, since though the words would be preserved their true
meaning might be lost. A s most oral poets of the past w h o used the classical
genres were deeply involved in the public affairs of their time, their works are
full of references to people, places and events that no longer form part of
general knowledge, while their language is often archaic and includes words
that are no longer understood or need elucidation. T o cope with all these
problems, the Somali collectors also gathered factual information about
history, obsolete customs, topography and the meaning of archaic words, and
thanks to their labours extensive commentaries are available in Somali
schoolbooks on the older works of oral literature.
T h e verbatim m o d e of memorizing oral poetry enables the names of
individual authors to be k n o w n and preserved, and in fact there has always
existed in Somali culture an unwritten copyright law that makes it obligatory
for poetry reciters to n a m e the poet at each performance of his work. T h e
collectors took cognizance of this valuable convention, and today works of
the Somali oral poets are presented in schools, colleges and by the mass
media not as nameless items of traditional folklore, butrightlyas individual,
historically attested pieces of art poetry. In classrooms, young Somalis n o w
have a basis of comparison with the foreign authors w h o , during the period of
cultural colonization, formed their exclusive reading matter. This is not only
intellectually beneficial but gives them a sense of cultural self-reliance and
strengthens the links between the n e w generation and the traditional culture,
which is still to a large extent preserved in the rural areas.
The survival 115
Notes
In the list of references that follows these notes Somali names are given in their customary order
and are not inverted, since surnames are not normally used in Somalia. Somalis writing in a
foreign language usually adapt the spelling of their names to the pronunciation conventions of
that language and this, combined with the lack of an official Somali orthography before 1972 and
the need of transliteration from n o n - R o m a n scripts, can lead to confusion. In this article, the
spelling of Somali names according to the Somali national orthography is regarded as standard.
Spellings that diverge from this are cross-referenced in the list of references. T h e orthographic
version is given first and the sign // is placed before the divergent version.
In the notes, bibliographical reference items are identified by the n a m e of the author and
the year of their appearance. In the case of non-Somali authors only the surname is cited, while
Somali names are given in full. Somali government publications in which authors are not named
are entered under the heading 'Somalia' in lieu of n a m e . Translations of titles given in brackets
are explanatory; they do not appear on the title-pages of the works concerned.
1. A m o n g the most significant works on Somali history are four by Jaamac C u m a r Ciise
(1965a, 19656, 1972,1976), thefirstthree of which are in Arabic and the last in Somali.
There are also two other historical works in Somali those by A x m e d Faarax Ibraahin
(1974) and Faarax M a x a m e d J. Cawl (1978); the latter is a popularizing book that makes
good use of oral poetry as source material. Foreign works concerned with Somali history
that are particularly noteworthy are those by Cerulli (1957,1959), Hess (1966), Kostecki
(1966), Lewis (1965) and Martin (1976); bibliographies given in them can be further
supplemented by consulting M a x a m e d Khaliif Salaad (1977) and Castagno (1975).
2. Jaamac C u m a r Ciise (1965a, p. 12). T h e original text runs as follows:
i ¿/¿!\ jU-i-Ml > ¿j j r"UJI j^Si\ U , ¿si J\ W j, Jfcj J, r y ; M iyX} syüb jjii\ ^>Jl jM^\
¿K** f i ' «;1 ^ ¿}j^i} j^^ 1 ¿^>. f^í" J^i ¿U* •**>! f+-*\***j t&J—" '>*A,J (•"•M1—*) p5ú-\»o ^¡_r¿^
3. Information concerning methods of writing Somali which preceded the national orthography
can be found in Andrzejewski (1954, 1974, 1978), Andrzejewski, Strelcyn and Tubiana
(1969), Cerulli (1959, 1964) and Moreno (1955). Accounts of the dispute about the
choice of script are provided in Andrzejewski (1964), and in greater detail in Xuseen
M . A a d a n (1968) and Laitin (1977). The introduction of the national orthography and its
positive results are described in Andrzejewski (1974, 1977a), C u m a r Cismaan M a x a m e d
(1975) and Somalia (1974a, 1974ft, 1974c). Note that Somali is n o w the official language
in Somalia and the m e d i u m of instruction in schools.
4. For general accounts of Somali poetry see Andrzejewski (1972), Andrzejewski and Lewis
(1964), A x m e d Cartan Xaange (1973), A x m e d Cartan Xaange, Muuse X . I. Galaal and
C u m a r A w N u u x (1970), Cerulli (1964), Cabdisalaan Yaasiin M a x a m e d (1977) and
Finnegan (1978). Special attention is given to classical genres in Andrzejewski and Lewis
(1964) and to miniature ones in Andrzejewski (1967), C u m a r A w N u u x (1970) and
Johnson (1972); modern poetry is described in detail in Johnson (1974) and Cabdisalaan
Yaasiin M a x a m e d (1973). A description of Somali scansion is found in Johnson (1978).
The verbatim m o d e of memorization and transmission of oral poems aimed at by Somali
reciters has recently attracted theoretical interest. It was previously assumed by some
scholars that in all oral poetry only the themes and some recurrent formulae were
transmitted from mouth to mouth and that every n e w performance was to a large extent
an improvisation. T h e universality of this assumption is challenged in Finnegan (1977),
where Somali poetry, together with that of other cultures, provides the basis for
discussion.
5. For details see Andrzejewski (1971).

6. These methods are described in Andrzejewski (1977a, 1978).
7. Johnson (1974, p. 110). In the original the refrain is Afqalaad aqoontu miyaa? The two lines
cited are: Af shisheeye addoon ayaynu addoon u nahee/V{aan asqaysannahee. Note that
the second line admits of more than one interpretation und this accounts for some
divergence in m y translation from that of Johnson
8. A n account of the Somali drama and its development is given in the introduction to Xasan
Sheekh M u u m i n (1974).
9. Xasan Sheekh M u u m i n (1974, Scene 5).
10. This play was performed in Mogadishu in 1966. A tape recording of its performance is
available in the Tape Library, School of Oriental and African Studies, University of
London.
11. Cumar Cartan Xaange (1968, p. 14). The original text is as follows: Xagga ilbaxnimada dal
iyo dad ka horreeya italiya ma jiro, reer Yurub oo idil annagaa ku shaacinnay iftiinka
aqoonta. llayskaannu saruu qaadnay ifkiisii geyi kastuu gaarey, Afrikana haku jirtee.
Julio Cesare, Michelangelo, Dante, Garibaldi—yaa nafloo aan ka sheekaqabin madhin-
teyaalkaas! Cawiyo ayaan bay lahayd Somaliya markay ku xiriirsantay italiya.
12. The work of Somali collectors is described in Andrzejewski (1975, 19776) and Johnson
(1973).
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[General History of Africa from the Beginning to the Nineteenth Century]. Mogadishu,
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Cambridge University Press.
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H A S S A N SHEIKH M U M I N . 1974. Leopard Among the Women: Shabeelnaagood—A Somali Play.
Trans, with an introduction by B . W . Andrezejewski. London, Oxford University Press.
H E S S , R . L . . 1966. Italian Colonialism in Somalia. Chicago and London, University of Chicago
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HUSSEIN M . A D A M . 1968. A Nation in Search of a Script: The Problem of Establishing a National
Orthography for Somali. Makerere, University of East Africa. ( M . A . Thesis.)
J A A M A C C U M A R CIISE//JÄMA' ' U M A R 'ISÄ.
J A A M A C C U M A R CIISE. 1976. Taariikhdii Daraawiishta iyo Sayid Maxame Cabdulle Xasan
(1895-1921) [The History of the Dervishes and Sayid Maxamed Cabdulle Xasan (1895-1921)].
Mogadishu, Akadeemiyaha Dhaqanka, Wasaaradda Hiddaha iyo Tacliinta Sare.
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Somalia in Medieval and Modern Times]. Cairo, Matbacat al-Imam.
. 1965¿>. 'Uuzamà' al-harakat al-siyasiyyafi'l-Sümäl [The Leaders of Political Action in
Somalia]. [Mogadishu.]
. 1972. Thawra 21 Uktûbir 1969: Asbàbuhâ, ahdafuhà, munjazätuhä [The Revolution of 21
October 1969: Its Causes, Aims and Achievements]. Mogadishu, Wazärat al-Tarbiyya wa
'1-Ta'lim.
J O H N S O N , J. W 1969. A Bibliography of the Somali Language and Literature. African Language
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. 1972. The Family of Miniature Genres in Somali Oral Poetry. Folklore Forum, Vol. 5,
N o . 3, pp. 79-99.
. 1973. Research in Somali Folklore. Research in African Literatures, Vol. 4, N o . 1,
pp. 51-61.
. 1974. Heellooy heelleellooy: The Development of the Genre Heello in Modern Somali
Poetry. Bloomington, Indiana University Publications. (Distribution: Humanities Press,
Atlantic Highlands, N.J.)
. 1978. Somali Prosodie Systems. Paper delivered at the Ninth Annual Conference of
African Linguistics, 7-9 April. East Lansing, Michigan State University.
KOSTECKI, A . M . 1966. Somalia: Zarys historyczno-polityczny [Somalia: A Historico-political
Outline]. Warsaw, Parlstwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe.
LAITIN, D . D . 1977. Politics, Language and Thought: the Somali Experience. Chicago and
London, University of Chicago Press.
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Weidenfeld Nicolson. (Republished in a revised and enlarged version in 1979 by Longmans,
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O M A R A U N U H . 1970. Some General Notes on Somali Folklore. Mogadishu.
O M A R O S M A N M O H A M E D . 1975. From Written Somali to Rural Development Campaign.
Mogadishu, Somali Institute of Development Administration and Management.
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National Guidance.
. 19746. Our Revolutionary Education: Its Strategy and Objectives. Mogadishu, Ministry of
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. 1974c. The Writing of the Somali Language: A Great Landmark in Our Revolutionary
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X A S A N S H E E K H M U U M I N / / H A S S A N SHEIKH MUMIN.
XUSEEN M . AADAN//HUSSEIN M . ADAM.
Decolonization of Ethiopia, 1940-55
Richard Pankhurst
Introduction
Ethiopia, though among the oldest states on the African continent, and one
of the few African members of the pre-war League of Nations, faced major
but still often little appreciated problems of decolonization in the decade and
a half covered by this paper. The struggle for decolonization or, as it was
then regarded, the resumption of national sovereignty, as well as the
restoration of what it considered lost territory, was in fact a major feature of
Ethiopian Government policy after the Second World W a r , and one to which
most other considerations were subordinated.
The paper seeks to show that decolonization in Ethiopia was by no
means the swift and automatic process often assumed, but a protracted one,
carried out in several stages and only in the face of considerable external
opposition.
The Second World War

The Second World W a r , as far as Ethiopia was concerned, began on 3
October 1935, when the army of Mussolini's Italy invaded the country from
the north (Eritrea) and south (Italian Somaliland). Though confronted with
the most powerful army up to that time deployed on the continent, the
Ethiopians offered stiff resistance to the invaders, w h o , enjoying vast
superiority of fire-power and making extensive use of aircraft, high
explosives and poison gas, nevertheless advanced. The forces of Emperor
H a u e Selassie were defeated in April 1936, after which the Ethiopian ruler
fled into exile (where he was to address the League of Nations in Geneva).
The Italians entered Addis A b a d a on 5 M a y , and four days later Mussolini
proclaimed the creation of a fascist empire in East Africa.
Though the Italians had captured the Ethiopian capital in little more
than half a year of operations, they encountered vigorous resistance in the
interior, particularly in Shoa, Gojam and Begemder, where patriot leaders
where quick to emerge. A n attempt on the life of the Italian viceroy,
120 Richard Pankhurst
Rodolfo Graziani, by two Eritreans in Addis A b a b a in February 1937 was

followed by ferocious retaliation in which several thousand Ethiopians were
massacred. This and other acts of fascist terrorism increased popular
resistance. Graziani found it impossible to crush the Ethiopian patriots. H e
was accordingly replaced by the D u k e of Aosta, w h o attempted a somewhat
more liberal policy in the hope of placating opposition. But the patriots
continued their struggle.
The world had meanwhile recognized the Italian 'conquest' of
Ethiopia, the United Kingdom, for example, doing so in November 1938.
T h e patriots were, however, still in the field. Their presence prevented the
realization of all but a few of Mussolini's dreams of empire, and placed the
fascist regime in East Africa in an unenviable position should the D u c e ever
decide to embroil himself in a major European conflict.
After the outbreak of the European war, in September 1939, the
Emperor, then in exile in the United Kingdom, offered his services to the
British Government, but the latter, anxious to avoid offending Mussolini,
vouchsafed no reply.
A major change in the situation was, however, brought about by
Mussolini's decision, on 10 June 1940, to declare war on the United Kingdom
and France. This action gave immediate comfort to the Ethiopian patriots.
After four years of lonely struggle they saw that they at last had allies, or,
more exactly, that their enemies, the Italians, had n e w enemies. Letters from
the British in the Sudan soon reached the Patriots promising them help 'to
destroy the c o m m o n enemy'. 1 Similar messages were received from the
French at Djibouti. T h e massive Italian armies in East Africa found
themselves, on the other hand, isolated from their h o m e country and faced
with mounting insurrection, fanned by the British and French, which was
soon to spread to Italy's 'native' forces.
Despite promises of Allied support, it was not long before the
Ethiopians discovered that the restoration of pre-war sovereignty—
decolonization, as it would n o w be called—was far from easy, for the British
Government, though anxious to embarrass the enemy by what they regarded
as insurgency, showed no willingness to withdraw their recognition of the
Italian 'conquest'. M a n y British colonial officers in the Sudan, Kenya and
elsewhere had, moreover, as Alan Moorhead, a contemporary writer, noted,
'a great deal of sympathy for the Italian settlers and administrators . . . w h o
in the few years they had been in Abyssinia were making a titanic effort to
produce another model colony.'3
The British, it soon became clear, were most reluctant to accord the
Emperor or his government any recognition. Pressure of military events, and
in particular fear that the Italians would advance into the Sudan and Kenya,
where scarcely any defences were in readiness, nevertheless necessitated
Decolonization of Ethiopia, 1940-55 121
some accommodation with the Ethiopian monarch. After several weeks of

delay the British Government somewhat reluctantly allowed him tofly,on 25
June, to the Sudan, where he received a m i n i m u m of official attention,
though numerous Ethiopian refugees flocked to welcome him.
Support for the idea of Ethiopian independence, and memories of what
was widely considered as the 'betrayal' of Ethiopia by the League in 1935-36,
was, however, a major influence a m o n g m a n y people in the United
Kingdom. O n 11 July, a month after Mussolini's declaration of war, Colonel
W e d g w o o d , long one of the staunchest friends of Ethiopia in the H o u s e of
C o m m o n s , asked what was for the British Government an embarrassing
question, namely:
whether contact has been made between the British Government and Ethiopia;
whether the Emperor's Government of Ethiopia is admitted to the full status of an
ally in the present war, with assurances that Ethiopian independence will be assured
when the war is won, and whether in consequence contact will be made with General
Abeba Aragai, who is commanding the Ethiopian Forces in thefield,and with Ras
Birru, formerly War Minister in Abyssinia, who recentlyflewfrom Jerusalem to the
Sudan to join the Ethiopian Forces on the Emperor's behalf, in order that the British
and Ethiopian Forces may co-ordinate their activities against the Italians in Ethiopia.
T h e British Government, unable to ignore the question but unwilling to

commit itself to W e d g w o o d ' s views, arranged for it to be answered by the
Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs, R . A . Butler, w h o replied, with as little
precision as possible:
Yes, sir. While the Right H o n . and gallant Gentleman will readily understand that it
will not be possible to go into detail in answering his question, I can assure him that
His Majesty's Government realize the importance of co-ordinating all activities likely
to damage the enemy's military effort in North and East Africa and Abyssinia.
Military necessity w a s , moreover, contributing towards increased co-

operation between the British and Ethiopians. O n 21 August, a small
Anglo-Ethiopian mission, Mission 101, led by a British officer, Brigadier
Sandford, entered Ethiopia. T w o months later, in October, a British
ministerial conference held in Khartoum decided, after m u c h 'stormy' 3
discussion, that the Emperor would be allowed a consignment of arms, albeit
a small one, and that Ethiopians fighting against the Italians should be
termed 'patriots', and no longer rebels against Italian rule. A request by the
Emperor for a formal alliance between the United K i n g d o m and Ethiopia
was, however, rejected. Several weeks later, another British officer, Colonel
Orde Wingate, w a s flown into G o jam with promises of speedy, though
limited, aid.
Despite such promises—and Butler's parliamentary answer to W e d g -

wood—the British Foreign Office scarcely envisaged any real restoration of
Ethiopian independence. A Foreign Office m e m o r a n d u m of as late as 9
December, which examined the history of the country in essentially
colonialist terms, went so far as to observe:
It is difficult to believe that the restoration of the former Ethiopian Empire as an

independent state is a practicable aim. The Empire survived as long as it did only
because the three Great Powers bordering on it—Great Britain, France and
Italy—were unable to agree on its contol.
Turning to British policy for the future the m e m o r a n d u m continued: ' A

solution might be to aim at the restoration of the ex-Emperor as the ruler of a
native African state under European protection.' Conscious that this was a
matter to be decided at a later date, the m e m o r a n d u m sagely added: 'It is not
necessary to decide n o w what European power would exercise the
protectorate.'4
British opposition to the idea of a return to pre-war Ethiopian
sovereignty also found expression in the dispatch to Cairo of Colonel
Brocklehurst, a British officer favouring the establishment of a separate
Galla state s o m e h o w affiliated to the United Kingdom. This mission was, as
noted by a historian of this period, Leonard Mosley, backed by 'certain
elements in Kenya and Rhodesia w h o were already dreaming of a post-war
East African Federation—under British colonial control—and were not
averse to including in it a large slice of land from southern Ethiopia, where
the earth was fertile and hospitable.'5 T h e project was, however, abandoned
on the personal intervention of Winston Churchill, to w h o m the Emperor
telegraphed to complain that it would have divided the country in the face of
the Italians.
A n interesting sidelight to the British Government's reluctance to
concur in the immediate decolonization of Ethiopia is provided by the B B C ' s
refusal throughout the year, and indeed the first four months of 1941, to
broadcast the Ethiopian national anthem in its programme on the national
anthems of the Allies, which included those of France, Poland, Luxembourg
and other countries in alliance with the United Kingdom. T h e official
thinking behind this refusal was revealed in a Foreign Office m e m o r a n d u m of
4 December 1940, which significantly observed:
T h e effect of the outbreak of war was not to terminate Italian sovereingty over
Abyssinia, which still exists in law, nor to turn the country automatically into an
independent sovereign State; what has happened is that w e are free from any
obligation not to disturb the existing legal position and have our hands free to m a k e
such settlement of the future of Abyssinia as w e m a y think fit and m a y be in a position
to effect.
I should personally have doubted whether anything which has so far happened
entitles the Negus (and still less Abyssinia as a State), to be regarded as an 'Ally'.6
In Africa, meanwhile, preparations for an Allied offensive were in progress.
W h a t was soon to be k n o w n as the Liberation Campaign opened on 19
January 1941, w h e n the northern Allied army crossed the frontier from the
Sudan. O n the following day, the Emperor, with Wingate as his principal
adviser, entered Ethiopia, also from the Sudan. H e had but a small army,
referred to by Wingate as 'Gideon Force', but was soon to be joined by
numerous Patriots. Four days later the southern Allied army struck from
Kenya. T h e stage was thus set for an Allied offensive that was to sweep the
Italians out of East Africa within a matter of months.
T h e strategy and tactics of the campaign were determined almost
entirely by the British, w h o from the outset planned to assume the dominant
role for themselves and to assign the Emperor and the Ethiopians only a
minor and ancillary one, largely relegated in fact to operations in the
geographically most difficult terrain. A r m s were allocated, and aviation
deployed, on the same basis.
T h e Allied attack proved so successful that the British Government
found itself obliged to commit itself to a definite policy for Ethiopia m u c h
sooner than was originally expected, for it became clear that the Italians
would soon be expelled. O n 4 February the Foreign Secretary, Anthony
E d e n , for the first time gave public recognition to the principle of Ethiopian
independence w h e n he declared: 'His Majesty's Government would welcome
the reappearance of an independent Ethiopian State and recognize the claim
of the E m p e r o r Haile Selassie to the throne.' T h e statement went on to
affirm:
The Emperor has intimated to His Majesty's Government that he will need outside
assistance and guidance. His Majesty's Government agree with this view and consider
that any such assistance and guidance in economic and political matters should be the
subject of international arrangement at the conclusion of the peace. They reaffirm
that they have themselves no territorial ambitions in Abyssinia. In the meantime, the
conduct of military operations by Imperial forces in parts of Abyssinia will require
temporary measures of military control. These will be carried out in consultation with
the Emperor, and will be brought to an end as soon as the situation permits.7
T h e infringements of Ethiopian sovereignty so delicately hinted at were, it

should be noted, soon to be imposed by the British military authorities
unilaterally, and were deeply resented by the Ethiopians, w h o were later to
note that n o comparable policy w a s adopted in the case of European
countries freed from Axis domination.
In East Africa, meanwhile, the Allied offensive was gaining m o m e n -
tum. Patriot successes, and the resultant disintegration of Italian morale,
soon enabled the Ethiopians to advance at a m u c h m o r e rapid rate than the

British had anticipated—or indeed thought desirable. T h e result was that
w h e n the Emperor's army seized the central G o j a m town of Burye at the
beginning of March the British withdrew the support of the Royal Air Force.
H a d continued air cover been available the Ethiopians would almost
certainly have crushed the Italian army in G o j a m , but Wingate radioed to
Khartoum in vain. 'It is no exaggeration to say', he afterwards observed,
'that the capture of this force would have m a d e possible an immediate and
successfull advance to Addis A b a b a . But the appeals were ignored.'8
There would seem to be no gainsaying the opinion of Leonard Mosley
that the reason for the refusal to supply further aerial support was essentially
political. T h e question, he says, w a s
who was to capture, Addis Ababa. . . . The Kaid, Khartoum, and his forces at Keren
could never get there in time. But what about Wingate and Gideon Force—the patriot
Army with the Emperor himself as its titular commander? ' M y dear fellow,' said the
officials in the Sudan, 'can you imagine what such a thing might mean? If the habashis
are allowed to take over their capital for themselves, they will not only rape and riot,
but they will never be the same again. . . . Keep them back, for heaven's sake, keep
them back.'
So the aid to Gideon Force, at the moment when it might have exploited its
success and surged through to Addis Ababa did not come. The capture of a black
man's kingdom was to be a white man's job, and it was handed to the South African
Army. Wingate's repeated messages, asking for a few more supplies, were ignored.9
T h e South Africans duly entered Addis Ababa—where they continued

the colour bar earlier established by the fascists—on 6 April, and on the same
day the Emperor's army, only a day's drive to the north, occupied Debra
Markos, the principal town in G o j a m . Despite the latter achievement, no
m e a n feat in the absence of air support, the Ethiopians had been
outdistanced in the race for the capital. T h e British rather than the Ethiopian
conception of decolonization had triumphed.
After the South African occupation of Addis A b a b a , the British
authorities determined to delay the Emperor's advance from Debra Markos.
A s Mosley records, 'on 6 April, a radio message reached Gideon Force from
Wingate's superiors in Khartoum. It informed him that the South African
troops were entering Addis A b a b a . It ordered him to halt all further
advances.' 10
Discussing the subsequent course of events, Mosley, w h o drew on the
reminiscences of Wingate's Palestinian aide Akavia, continues:
Hisfirstreaction was one of chagrin and anger. 'He knew we could have done it
ourselves, and that it would have been morally right,' said Akavia. But almost
immediately afterwards he recovered enough to send a message of congratulations,
plus a request. H e asked for a plane to be sent at once, so that Haile Selassie could be
flown to his capital and so receive the homage and welcome of his people.
T h e request was refused. H e was peremptorily ordered to keep the Emperor
where he was. W h e n he protested he was told: 'There are 5,000 Italians in Addis
Ababa. White people. If the Emperor arrives, the natives will panic. They will go wild
and start looting and raping, and the Italians will all be killed. So keep the little m a n
out.'11
Wingate then received orders 'to halt any impulse of the Emperor to
approach Addis A b a b a ' , and, as General Cunningham put it, to use
'everything short of force'.12
T h e Emperor was in fact kept from entering the capital for a full
month, but at the end of April he impatiently decided to march on Addis
A b a b a in the face of British disapproval, though, as Mosley says, 'with the
active though strictly unofficial approval of Wingate'. 13 General Cunningham
had no choice but to acquiesce in the m o v e , for as Lord Rennell of R o d d in
an official account of the period was later to admit, 'for the Emperor to be in
the country . . . and not in his capital, could only create an embarrassing
situation for all concerned'.14
T h e Emperor duly re-entered Addis A b a b a on 5 M a y , but scarcely as
an independent sovereign, for the capital and indeed all 'liberated' territories
were n o w under British occupation.
British military administration, 1 9 4 1 - 4 2
The British military presence, though euphemistically foreshadowed by Eden

as one of 'temporary . . . guidance and control', meant in fact a virtually total
curtailment of national sovereignty, and was accepted by the Ethiopian
Government only because it had effectively no way to object. T h e country,
far from being restored to its former rulers, was placed unilaterally under an
Occupied E n e m y Territory Administration ( O E T A ) . This administration
was run from Nairobi, then a centre of colonial and white-settler rule, and
was headed by Sir Philip Mitchell, a South-African-born colonial official,
formerly British governor of Uganda, and no friend of African indepen-
dence.
T h e extent to which Ethiopian freedom of action was impaired by this
British occupation became apparent as early as 11 M a y 1941, when the
Emperor appointed his first post-war Cabinet of seven Ministers, which
prompted a visit by Sir Philip's representative, Brigadier Lush, w h o bluntly
declared: 'His Majesty cannot fully resume his status and powers as Emperor
until a peace treaty has been signed with Italy. Until that happens the King of
Italy remains the legal ruler of Ethiopia.'15 Though the Emperor refused to
annul his appointments he w a s later prevailed upon to re-name them

Minister Designates.
Ethiopia, though liberated from the Italians, was thus under continued
foreign domination, so m u c h so indeed that a United States m e m o r a n d u m of
18 June described the British occupation as being 'tantamount to a
protectorate over Abyssinia'.16 In British colonial and military circles it was
moreover widely assumed, and hoped, that this situation could be rendered
permanent. Gordon Waterfield, an Englishman then resident in Addis
A b a b a , recalled:
British officers in charge of the political administration, a rapidly growing

organization, were talking openly of establishing control over Ethiopia on the Sudan
model with political officers throughout the country. . . . All the old arguments were
brought up about the benefits of British control. They did not like to see the Italian
improvements, which had cost millions of pounds, go d o w n the drain under an
Ethiopian administration; besides that, Ethiopia was regarded as a rich pendant to the
Sudan, including as it did Lake Tsana and the Source of the Blue Nile.17
Sir Philip Mitchell himself broadly shared such sentiments. H e pressed the
Emperor to agree to abide by British advice 'in all matters touching the
Government of Ethiopia', to levy taxes and allocate expenditure only with
'prior approval of His Majesty's Government', to grant British courts
jurisdiction over foreigners, to 'raise no objection' if the British commander-
in-chief 'found it necessary to resume military control of any part of
Ethiopia', and not to raise armed forces or undertake military operations
'except as agreed by His Majesty's Government representative'.18
T h e Emperor, not surprisingly, found these proposals intolerable, and
telegraphed to Churchill to ask w h y a treaty between the two countries was
so long delayed. T h e Prime Minister, reluctant to be seen attempting to
coerce thefirst,and at that time the only, country freed from Axis rule, chose
to gloss over the matter by replying that the delay was due to the British
Government's desire to ensure that nothing remained in the draft 'which
could be interpreted as interfering with your sovereign rights over the
independence of Ethiopia'.19
The Anglo-Ethiopian Agreement of 1942
After protracted negotiations a two-year agreement recognizing Ethiopian

independence and providing for a subsidy of £1.5 million for the first year
and £1 million for the second year (extendable to £500,000 for a third year
and £250,000 for a fourth) to re-establish an administration in the war-torn
land, was signed on 31 January 1942. T h e Emperor was, however, obliged to
m a k e numerous concessions that preserved and legitimized a very sub-

stantial degree of British control. They were of a character which no truly
sovereign state would ever accept.
T h e agreement declared, in its preamble, that 'the Government of the
United Kingdom recognize that Ethiopia is n o w a free and independent State
and His Majesty the Emperor, Haile Selassie I, is its lawful Ruler'. T h e
remaining articles drastically curtailed the practical application of this
statement.
Article I provided that diplomatic relations should be established
between the two countries, but went on to state that 'the Diplomatic
Representative of His Majesty the King shall take precedence over any other
foreign Representative'.
Article II laid d o w n that the United Kingdom should provide Ethiopia
with advisers, but added that the Emperor 'agrees not to appoint advisers
additional to those referred to . . . except after consultation with the
Government of the United Kingdom'.
Article IV specified that Ethiopia should receive a two-year financial
grant, extendable for two more years, but stated that the Emperor 'agrees
that in all matters relating to currency in Ethiopia the Government of the
United Kingdom shall be consulted and that arrangements concerning it shall
be m a d e only with the concurrence of that Government'.
Article V , which was to be m u c h resented by the Ethiopian public,
gave foreigners the right of trial by a High Court with at least one British
judge.
Article V I observed that in relation to private e n e m y property, a
source of considerable wealth, the Emperor 'agrees to consult with the
British Diplomatic Representative'.
Article VII, which dealt with Italian prisoners, then virtually the sole
skilled m a n p o w e r in the country, stated that 'all prisoners of war shall be
handed over to the custody of the British Military Authorities'.
Article X I gave the British freedom to fly over Ethiopia, but laid d o w n
that 'the Emperor will not permit foreign aircraft other than British to fly to,
in, or over Ethiopia without the concurrence of the Government of the
United Kingdom'. 2 0
Besides this unequal treaty the Emperor was obliged to sign a military
convention with the United Kingdom, the provisions of which, in the view of
one recent commentator, 'read more like the terms of an armistice than those
of an alliance'.21 T h e convention laid d o w n , in Articles 1 and 2, that the
United Kingdom would provide a military mission to train the Ethiopian
army, but went on to grant the British extensive territorial and other
concessions. T h e Convention declared in Article 3:
The areas specified in the Schedule attached hereto, and such other areas and places
as may be agreed upon between the Parties either in addition to or in substitution for
the said areas and places, shall remain under British military administration to the
extent which, and as long as, the General officer Commanding-in-Chief, the British
Forces in East Africa, in consultation with His Majesty the Emperor, considers
necessary.
T h e extent of the Ethiopian sacrifice embodied in the article is apparent from
the published schedule, which stated that the areas to remain under British
military administration were to comprise: (a) a large stretch of south-eastern
Ethiopia adjacent to French, British and Italian Somaliland; (b) all land
occupied by the Franco-Ethiopian railway and its appurtenances—a strip of
territory, that is to say, running all the way from Addis A b a b a through Dire
D a w a to the frontier of French Somaliland; and (c) virtually all the principal
Ethiopian towns, namely Addis A b a b a , A d a m a , G i m m a , A w a s h , Gondar,
Dire D a w a , Debat, Harrar, A d i Arcai, A d o w a , Dalle, Adigrat, Neghelli,
Quiha, Yavello, Combolcia, M e g a , Sardo and Moggio.
Article 5 of the Military Convention further laid d o w n that 'the
territory of the Ogaden', which had been included in the Italian colony of
Somalia in 1936, should 'remain under the British Administration of
Somalia'.
There were, in addition, numerous other points in the convention on
which the Emperor was obliged to yield sovereignty. H e thus agreed, in
Article 6, that 'the Government of the United Kingdom shall have the right
to keep such military forces in Ethiopia as they think necessary'; in Article 7
that 'without prejudice to the fact that British cantonments are upon
Ethiopian territory, the said cantonments shall be inviolable and shall be
subject to the exclusive control and authority of the appropriate British
Authority'; and, in Article 8, that the British forces should enjoy 'complete
freedom of m o v e m e n t of personnel, vehicles, animals and materials between
British cantonments, and generally such freedom of m o v e m e n t elsewhere as
such forces enjoy in the United Kingdom'. T h e British were likewise allowed
'entry into and departure from Ethiopia of m e m b e r s of the British Forces at
all times without let or hindrance, subject only to the production of a
certificate showing membership of the British Forces'. Other articles giving
the dominant ally vast extraterritorial rights included Article 12, which
stated that 'the Emperor will provide for the continued operation of so m u c h
of the legislation enacted by the British Military Authorities as is considered
by the Government of the United Kingdom to be necessary for the security of
the British Forces in Ethiopia', and Article 19, which held that 'the British
Forces shall be entitled to send an armed escort to any part of Ethiopia for
the purpose of taking over and escorting to British cantonments or reserved
areas any m e m b e r of the British forces arrested'.22
Ethiopia, so far from liberated, w a s thus tied hand and foot to its
'liberator', to such an extent that John H . Spencer, an American professor of
international relations and sometime adviser to the E m p e r o r , w a s later to
write, with an eye perhaps to the American reader:
Ethiopia remained essentially under British control. British military units of the
B M M E (British Military Mission to Ethiopia) were present everywhere, as were
British advisers. All communications, including the Emperor's personal correspon-
dence, and air and surface transport, were controlled by them. Foreign airlines other
than British were excluded. The East African shilling replaced the Italian lire and the
traditional Ethiopian currency. Ethiopia was part of the sterling area. Goodyear,
Goodrich or Firestone tires could be purchased only if they had been manufactured
by their branches in England. All dollar exchange earned by exports had to be
converted into pounds sterling.23
Despite the manifold infringements of Ethiopian sovereignty the agreement

of 1942 m a r k e d an important stage in the country's decolonization in that it
embodied the first diplomatic recognition of the restoration of Ethiopian
independence. There could n o longer be any talk of this having to await the
conclusion of a peace treaty with Italy.

Having obtained recognition of their country's 'independence' by the 1942
agreement, the Ethiopian G o v e r n m e n t sought to wrest effective freedom of
action from the British by turning to the United States. T h e Americans,
anxious to assume the responsibilities of a world p o w e r , were inclined to be
favourable to such an approach, though, as Spencer recalls, it presented
difficulties in that
the only channel of communication with Ethiopian officials lay through the British
Legation in the capital. Because the British preferred that U . S . representation in
Ethiopia be limited to a consulate-general, negotiations for the re-establishment of a
U . S . legation had to be carried on elsewhere. Once the Department of State
approved the final arrangements for opening a legation, the problem remained of
forwarding notification to the Ethiopian officials in Addis Ababa. This meant passing
through the British Legation there. The British Minister held the note until the
United States, alerted by the prolonged absence of a reply,finallyforced the Minister
to release it to the Ethiopians.24
T h e opening of relations with the United States brought about a radical

change in the situation in that it enabled the Ethiopian G o v e r n m e n t
gradually but nonetheless effectively to free itself from its dependence o n the
British. The Ethiopian attitude was bluntly explained by the Vice-Minister of

Finance, Yilma Deressa, in a m e m o r a n d u m to President Roosevelt which
complained that thefirstdraft of the 1942 agreement as submitted by the
British had 'amounted to the imposition of a protectorate', and that even 'the
actual a g r e e m e n t . . . is regarded in Ethiopia as an agreement which imposes
upon her government conditions which are incompatible with either liberty
or the exercise of her sovereign rights as a free nation'.25
After the opening of diplomatic relations with the United States the
Ethiopian Government obtained moral support from the Americans, as well
as a limited amount of technical assistance and promises of subsequent more
substantial aid. Strengthened by such help, the Ethiopian Government soon
found itself in a position to demand the termination of the 1942 agreement.
The vice-minister of foreign affairs, Aklilu Habta Wald, accordingly wrote to
the British Government, on 12 January 1944, requesting a n e w agreement on
the grounds that 'several clauses' of the old 'have no longer any utility'.26
The British, because of increasing American involvement in Ethiopia,
were scarcely able to refuse. T h e British minister in Addis A b a b a , Robert
H o w e , w h o was well aware of this, telegraphed the Foreign Office that it was
'essential to k n o w whether Americans would be willing to pursue a c o m m o n
policy with us' for, he warned, 'at present it is possible for the Ethiopian
Government to arrange the matters that affect His Majesty's Government
with the United States and present His Majesty's Government with a fait
accompli'.27 T h e United States, the minister learnt to his chagrin, was not
willing to underwrite the British position of paramountcy in Ethiopia.
Notwithstanding the resultant weakening of the British bargaining
position, negotiations, which were conducted in Addis A b a b a by a special
British envoy, Lord D e L a Warr, were long and protracted, and seemed at
times liable indeed to fail. T h e Ethiopians succeeded in having most of the
limitations on their sovereignty embodied in the 1942 agreement removed
from the 1944 draft. T h e unequal character of the earlier treaty was thus
largely abandoned. In order to escape from the ties imposed by the 1942
agreement, the Ethiopians were, however, obliged on their side also to m a k e
concessions. T h e principal one was that embodied in Article VII, which
stated that the Ethiopian Government agreed to the continued British
occupation of the Ogaden and Reserved Area. This was nevertheless
qualified by the statement that the government did so 'in order as an Ally to
contribute to the effective prosecution of the war, and without prejudice to
their underlying sovereignty'. T h e article also explicitly stated that the
occupation was 'for the duration of this Agreement'. 2 8
The n e w treaty, which was signed on 19 December 1944, thus resulted
in the decolonization of the greater part of Ethiopia, except for the Ogaden
and Reserved Area, which remained under British military administration.
The Anglo-Ethiopian Protocol of 1948

T h e next, and penultimate, step in the decolonization of Ethiopia w a s
taken in 1948. T h e British Government, which had accepted Ethiopia's claim
to 'underlying sovereignty' over the O g a d e n and Reserved Area in the 1944
agreement, realized that it could not prolong its occupation in the face of the
by then strongly voiced opposition of the Ethiopian Government, the m o r e
so as the agreement specified, in Article XIII, that the treaty could be
terminated by either party after two years. T h e continued British military
presence had already been denounced in the Soviet press as a manifestation
of imperialism, and seemed moreover n o longer of m u c h value to the United
K i n g d o m , as it had b e c o m e evident that the former Italian colony of Somalia,
which lay adjacent to it, could not be retained by the United K i n g d o m , as it
was in all probability to be returned to Italy. T h e British Government
accordingly agreed, by a protocol signed with the Ethiopian Government o n
July 24, 1948, to withdraw from the greater part of the O g a d e n , which was
thus restored to Ethiopian jurisdiction.
Ethiopian foreign policy in the late 1940s w a s mainly concerned with the
question of the future of the former Italian colony of Eritrea, the integration
of which w a s considered a matter of major economic as well as strategic
importance. T h e disposal of the territory, which had been the subject of
m u c h bargaining a m o n g the great, and m a n y of the lesser, powers, w a s
finally decided by a United Nations resolution of 2 D e c e m b e r 1950, which
federated it with Ethiopia under the Ethiopian crown.
After the achievement of the federation in the following year, the
Ethiopian Government turned to the question of the O g a d e n and Reserved
A r e a , Ethiopia's 'underlying sovereignty' of which had been explicitly
specified in the 1944 agreement. T h e war, which had been invoked in that
treaty as the reason for Ethiopia's allowing the British to administer them,
had long since ended. T h e British Government had therefore n o option but
to return them to Ethiopian rule. This was confirmed in the Anglo-Ethiopian
agreement of 29 N o v e m b e r 1954, which stated in Article I:
The full and exclusive sovereignty of Ethiopia over the territories which are set forth
in the attached Schedule (hereinafter referred to as 'the territories') recognized by the
Anglo-Ethiopian Treaty of 1897, is hereby reaffirmed. As from 28 February 1955,
British Military Administration for which temporary provision was made under the
Anglo-Ethiopian Treaty of 19 December 1944, shall be withdrawn from the Reserved
Area as defined in the Schedule to that Agreement and from that part of the Ogaden
which is at present under British Military Administration. The Imperial Ethiopian

Government shall, from that date, reassume jurisdiction and administration of, in and
over the territories.
T h e process of decolonizing Ethiopia, which the Ethiopians considered

complete only with the restoration of their internationally recognized
pre-1935 frontiers, had thus taken o n e and a half decades.
Notes
1. C . Sandford, The Lion of Judah hath Prevailed, p. 87, London, 1955.

2. A . Moorhead, Mediterranean Front, p. 37, N e w York, 1942.
3. C . Sykes, Orde Wingate, p. 244, London, 1959.
4. Public Record Office, Foreign Office, 371/24645/306.
5. L . Mosley, Haile Selassie, p. 260, London, 1964.
6. Foreign Office, 371/24639/434. See also R . Pankhurst, "The Ethiopian National Anthem
in 1940', Ethiopia Observer, Vol. X T V , N o . 3, 1971, pp. 219-25; and "The Ethiopian
National A n t h e m in 1941', Ethiopia Observer, Vol. X V , N o . 1, 1972, pp. 63-6
7. M . Perham, The Government of Ethiopia, p. 463, London, 1969.
8. L . Mosley, Gideon Goes to War, p. 104, London, 1957.
9. Ibid., p. 105.
10. Ibid.
11. Ibid., pp. 105-6.
12. Mosley, Haile Selassie, op. cit., p. 268.
13. Mosley, Gideon Goes to War, op. cit., p. 106. See also O . C . Wingate, 'Appreciation of the
Ethiopian Campaign, 1941', Ethiopian Observer, Vol. X V , N o . 4, 1973, pp. 204-26.
14. Rennell of R o d d , British Military Administration of Occupied Territories, p. 67, London,
1948.
16. J. H . Spencer, Ethiopia, the Horn of Africa, and U.S. Policy, p. 9, Cambridge, Mass.
18. Foreign Office, 371/27514/4091.
20. Rennel of R o d d , op. cit., pp. 539-43.
21. C . P . Protholm, Liberation and Exploitation: The Struggle for Ethiopia, p. 101, N e w York,
1976.
22. Rennell of R o d d , op. cit., pp. 199, 547-51.
23. Spencer, op. cit., p. 9.
24. Ibid., p. 10.
25. United States, Foreign Relations of the United States, Diplomatic Papers, III, p. 104,
Washington, D . C . , 1943.
26. Foreign Office, 371/41448/403.
27. Ibid., 371/41449/874.
28. Perham, op. cit., p. 477.
Neo-colonialism or decolonization?
Hagos Gebre Yesus
Protesting vehemently about the continued use of the highly dubious term
'race' by those w h o are fond of categorizing the h u m a n species into their o w n
ethnocentric conceptions, D r Ashley Montagu, a distinguished anthropolo-
gist, was m o v e d to observe:
The principle of 'squatter's'rightsapparently applies to words as well as to property.

W h e n m e n m a k e a heavy investment in words they are inclined to treat them as
property, and even to become enslaved by them, the slaves of their own vocabularies.
High walls m a y not a prison m a k e , but technical terms sometimes do. . . . This is
another reason for self-examination with regard to the use of the term 'race'.
In this brief presentation, I want to argue that a similar exercise of

self-examination is long overdue on the part of those w h o are stuck, for
largely the same reasons, with the word 'decolonization'.
A s I see it, the crucial question that has to be posed and answered is
this: has colonialism given way to decolonization—as the word itself already
presupposes and as is also supposed by those partial to that view—or has it
given rise to neo-colonialism in Africa or elsewhere in the so-called Third
World? If the answer to the first is affirmative and to the second negative, I
will no doubt be reprimanded for barking up the wrong tree, in which case I
will take m y reprimands as gracefully as I can and will undertake to take
another hard look at the world around m e . If, on the other hand, the answers
are reversed, those w h o have been singing the happy tidings of decoloniza-
tion will k n o w w h e n and h o w to change their tune.
First, about the terms themselves. Because the terms in use in any
particular discourse, especially those that have s o m e h o w gained popular
acceptance, have a w a y of conditioning the manner in which those w h o
habitually use them perceive things, terms are extremely important. A n d
w h e n the terms w e use do condition our perceptions, that is to say, w h e n they
do not accurately mirror the actual conditions they refer to, it is obvious that
they help falsify and obfuscate certain realities that exist in the world. Each
time the term 'decolonization' is used with reference to what is called, with
little or no discrimination, the backward, the underdeveloped or, more
134 Hagos Gebre Yesus
charitably, the developing world, this is what actually happens. T h e terms

just mentioned, for example, are supposed to refer to or to describe the same
thing as if the three words were exactly synonymous. The first word, simply
meaning a state of backwardness, suggests a static state; the second denotes
the meaning of thefirstin s o m e general sense but also implies that there m a y
be some developed spheres or spheres of some development; the meaning of
the third is quite different from and in m a n y significant ways also opposed to
the first two, suggesting as it does a state or a process of development. All
these terms, including the most recent one, which goes by a trinitarian
appellation (one which of late is being invested with some Marxian—I do not
say Marxist—scaffolding by those w h o appear to be more interested in
inventing fanciful worlds than in dealing with the real one here below), have
a long and tortured history. But w h e n the term 'decolonization' is added to
the list of misapplied words, the bubble bursts. In the same w a y , the
misapplication of the idea of decolonization is matched only by the
misperception of conditions obtaining in the neo-colonized world.
M y chief objection to the term 'decolonization' here is that it takes for
granted as solved certain endemic problems which are far from being so, and
tends to lend credibility to the self-serving propaganda of imperialists of all
sorts, w h o also claim that things are getting better everywhere. W h e n , with
ritual fidelity, one goes on repeating the notion that the underdeveloped
countries are developing, that the backward peoples are advancing, or that,
in a word, decolonization is taking place all over, one echoes this same litany
of imperialism. In other words, to continue to use the word 'decolonization'
under the prevailing regime of neo-colonialism is to persist in pushing the
ambiguity of language in order to promote confusion of thought as well as to
prolong the pillage and plunder of the neo-colonized world. A n d this for the
simple reason that the passage from the old colonial order to a simulacrum of
independence does not spell decolonization but the continuation of
colonialism in a n e w form: hence, only the term 'neo-colonialism' accurately
captures the ensemble of relationships between the developed and
underdeveloped worlds. A n d if one looks at the world, one sees not receding
colonialism or ascending decolonization, but the suffocating reality of
neo-colonial domination and exploitation, which is externally imposed by
imperialism and internally sustained by the neo-colonial regimes in power,
since the former cannot operate effectively without the latter, and the latter
cannot continue to exist without the former.
This means that those w h o talk of the alleged decolonization of the
'developing countries' must also recognize one other corollary to this
neo-colonial set-up, namely, that the so-called national bourgeoisie in the
neo-colonized countries is not at all like the bourgeois« classes of other times
and places.
Neo-colonialism or decolonization? 135
Despite its rhetoric to the contrary, this bourgeoisie is not an

anti-feudal and anti-imperialist force. Except perhaps for its skin pigmenta-
tion and a few other external stigmata, it is not, in truth, even national in
character. Far from being an anti-imperialist national force, it is itself, on its
o w n showing, an integrated appendage of the imperialist apparatus. T h e
historically progressive role played out by other bourgeois classes cannot be
ascribed to it, which is w h y one cannot speak of any meaningful
decolonization without falsifying the record. B y virtue of its integration into
the neo-colonial order of things, this class has forfeited that role and has
become instead both the agent and the beneficiary of the nexus of
imperialism to which it is tied in a hundred and one ways.
Under these conditions, therefore, it is a serious misrepresentation to
argue that any real decolonization is s o m e h o w being attained either through
the exertions of such a crypto-bourgeoisie or the good conscience of the
colluding and contending imperialisms of the day, whose spokesmen
otherwise never tire of shedding their crocodile tears in order to assuage the
nagging appeals of kept politicians. Despite all the pathetic appeals and the
soothing promises traded, the facts of capitalist exploitation and class
collaboration are m u c h harder nuts to crack than are the high principles that
are so often professed and proclaimed by both. After all, w h e n one desires to
cut d o w n a tree, one does not usually request the tree to supply the axe. T h e
lumberjacks w h o are capable of felling the neo-colonial tree are the people
w h o are underneath it, not the hangers-on w h o have built their nests in it.
That is w h y one can say without m u c h exaggeration that the so-called
national bourgeoisie is a dependent class that lives, like certain parasitic
organisms in the biological world, by consuming so m a n y times more than its
weight. It should surprise no one therefore that such grand schemes as the
'new economic order' on which so m u c h ink is spilt and tons of paperwork
compiled have not and cannot alter anything in the continuing scandal of
'unequal exchange' between the haves and the have-nots. T h e haves still
have more than they want, and the have-nots still have little of what they
need and nothing of what they want.
T h e fact that the ruling regimes, which do not so m u c h rule as reign,
periodically j u m p from the frying pan into thefireand trade their allegiances
to one or the other imperialist c a m p ; the fact that they remain ever ready to
sell themselves and their countries to the highest bidder, must not be
mistaken for the assertion of national will and sovereignty on their part. Like
the imperialist overlords themselves, these vassals of imperialism do not have
enduring friends, only permanent interests.
A s already implied in this grim presentation, the emergence and
perpetuation of so m a n y inept neo-colonial regimes, which have m a d e their
peace with neo-colonialism, is m a d e possible by the character of con tempo-
136 Hagos Gebre Yesus
rary imperialism. Unlike the imperialists of the past, present-day imperialists

do not carry o n their business, vis-à-vis the peoples of the neo-colonized
lands, with deadly competition to the finish. T h e once warring imperialisms
have today evolved into a single predatory system of complementing
imperialism; that is to say, contemporary imperialists no longer operate at
cross purposes with respect to the Third World, but rather with a studied
unity of purpose and direction. All levels of their operations—economic and
political, cultural and ideological, military and technological—are marked by
a high degree of cohesion conducted in a complementary and parallel
fashion. Whatever the contradictions that still plague them from within, and
despite the bellicose postures that sometimes appear to upset their détentes
and 'peaceful competitions', what the imperialist camps fear most is not the
possibility of a war of extinction between them but the ever-present danger of
wars of national liberation that would put an end to the entire system of
imperialism and capitalist exploitation.
In view of these brutal facts, in view of the stark reality that the gap
between the imperialist and imperialized countries is widening and not
narrowing, in view of the fact that famine and hunger, disease and death,
stalk the immense majority of the peoples of the Third World, in what sense
and by what criteria can one talk of decolonization?
Plainly, one cannot, without altogether succumbing to that sort of
Orwellian travesty, even before 1984 is upon us, in which falsehood becomes
truth and m e n are turned into pigs. But if all these unpalatable truths about
the contemporary world appear too bitter to swallow to anyone w h o has
m o r e delicate taste than I, I would advise them to ask the victims of
neo-colonialism whether the picture drawn here about their lives is
overstated or understated. Then, the victims themselves might respond by
citing the French proverb, plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose.
A s for the events unfolding in southern Africa and the Horn of Africa
in recent years, it would be superfluous, after what has been said in the
preceding pages, to recount here the cynical calculations and sordid
manoeuvres the superpowers have been engaged in which in those two
regions of the continent. These latest manifestations of neo-colonialism are
sufficiently well k n o w n . So are all the major and minor actors involved in the
drama. Moreover, the nature of the contests and the aims of the contestants
are not really new—perhaps only more notorious in the totality of their
cynicism. Likewise, the stakes at issue remain high and the same.
It is sufficient to recall the series of alliances consummated and broken
in rapid succession, the crass opportunism of shifting alignments and
realignments, the instant metamorphosis of yesterday's 'friends' into today's
'enemies' the overnight transformation of so-called revolutionaries into
reactionaries and so-called reactionaries into revolutionaries, accompanied
Neo-colonialism or decolonization? 137
by instantaneous acts of baptism or excommunication by self-appointed

priests parachuted from afar in the manner of B a t m a n . All these things,
and m o r e , read like a familiar text-book of neo-colonial vintage. It is by
means such as these that a triangular power-play is being conducted in the
two vital regions of Africa at the present time.
O n e of the troika, which designates itself as the global champion of
' h u m a n rights', feigns neutrality and moderation in the face of the most
inhuman acts daily perpetrated by the inveterate reactionary regimes in its
keep, which are passed off as so m a n y 'moderates' or as moderating
influences for 'stability'. T h e other proclaims itself to be the purveyor of
socialism and the defender of the territorial integrity of countries in these
parts of Africa, apparently forgetting its dismembering, in the n a m e of the
'principle' of self-determination, of another country on another continent not
so very long ago. Still the third, while pretending that it is against the two,
effectively sides with the first against the second and, in the process, supports
and abates, all in the n a m e of anti-revisionism, which is itself every bit as
revisionist as any seen or heard to date, open aggression by maddened
chauvinists and unrepentant white suprematists in search of chunks of real
estate. T h e spectacle of this second edition of the scramble for Africa is there
to see for all w h o have eyes. But then there is also the spectre of resistance
and revolution, which haunts them all.
Part III
Report of the meeting
of experts
Inaugural session
The inaugural session was held under the chairmanship of His Excellency
Ambassador T . Ocheduszko, President of the Polish National Commission
for Unesco. Several speeches of welcome were given on behalf of the Polish
university authorities.
D r Z . Pioro spoke of the meaning of Unesco's efforts in connection
with the General History of Africa. Ambassador Ocheduszko stressed the
fact that the African continent was entangled in a difficult and dramatic
present, as indicated by the topics proposed for discussion at the seminar,
and said that the vision of past events would throw light on present problems.
Professor B . Winid, speaking on behalf of the Chancellor of Warsaw
University, drew the participants' attention to the importance, the diversity
and the value of the work done in Poland on the history of the African
continent. H e also drew the attention of participants to the Polish review
Africana Bulletin.
M r Glélé, speaking in the n a m e of the Director-General of Unesco,
took the opportunity of recalling the terms of two resolutions adopted by the
United Nations General Assembly which were most relevant to the items on
the agenda of the meeting. T h e first was Resolution 1514 ( X V ) of 14
December 1960, on the granting of independence to colonial countries and
peoples. T h e second was Resolution 1803 (XVII) of 14 December 1962,
establishing the permanent sovereignty of peoples over their countries'
natural resources, the exportation of which must be in the interest of
'national development and of the well-being of the people of the state
concerned'.
M r Glélé also m a d e a number of announcements concerning the
publication of V o l u m e VIII of the General History of Africa and said that its
table of contents was still being discussed by the Volume Editor and the
Committee. H e pointed out the complexity of the concepts of decoloniza-
tion, liberation and independence (Appendix I).
At the end of the opening meeting, the following officers were elected:
D r Z . Pioro (Poland), president; Professor J. F . A . Ajayi (Nigeria) and
Professor E . K . Mashingaidze (Zimbabwe) vice-presidents; Professor
142
A . Mazrui (Kenya), discussion leader and Professor J. Dévisse (France)

rapporteur.
The experts then adopted the agenda proposed by Professor Mazrui,
the editor of Volume VIII of the General History of Africa: 'Africa since the
Ethiopian war, 1935-80'.
General discussion
During discussions general points concerning the drafting of V o l u m e VIII of

the General History of Africa as a whole and specific points previously
submitted to the experts were clarified.
A point frequently reiterated throughout the discussions was that this
volume should neither disrupt the continuity nor depart from the historical
tone of the previous volumes. A t the same time, of course, it should not
overlook the contributions to be m a d e by different disciplines, which could
all converge in the composition of a general history of Africa in the twentieth
century. T h e historical perspective presupposes an effort to bring out the
underlying structure as a whole of the lengthy period of time covered, and it
was important not to view past developments through the distorting lenses of
purely contemporary events. This volume should be structurally sound, so
that it can be read for m a n y years without becoming out of date.
M a n y experts believed that in studying African history it was
impossible to use a method that fragmented reality into 'isolated categories'.
They considered that Marxist analysis should be fully applied here to achieve
a genuinely comprehensive and explanatory study.
For s o m e experts, the method of Marxist analysis was most
appropriate, and by applying it one could foresee the definitive and logical
progress of events in the African regions concernedjand perhaps throughout
the world. This was a m o r e philosophical and more political view of things.
For others, more aware of the balance of power, Marxist analysis was of
political importance and fostered political commitments but did not bring out
the sequence of events as obviously and necessarily as for the first group.
Other experts suggested that attention should be given to the
differences in the economic and social transformations of African societies
under colonial rule. These differences could be analysed in terms of social
structures, economic structures, and the role played by various social groups
in the process of decolonization. Therefore it was suggested that the
historical process of decolonization should be studied in the light of an exact
knowledge of the social and economic structures of the countries concerned,
as has been suggested by s o m e specialists.1 N o analysis of political strategies
144 Report of the meeting of experts
was attempted; nor w a s there any attempt to define the conditions of

transition from a pre-capitalist to a socialist society. T h e emphasis was on the
differences that exist in this regard between southern Africa and Ethiopia.
For several experts, all the socialist experiments realized throughout
the world should be m a d e k n o w n . T h e importance of Lin Piao's book Long
Live the Victorious War of the People was emphasized. 2 There were long
discussions about the definition of some of the more important terms. T h e
V o l u m e Editor and the m e m b e r s of the International Scientific Committee
were asked to be very careful about the way in which such terms were used.
T h e Leninist definition of imperialism seemed generally to have been
accepted, though not studied in depth. Most experts definitely were inclined in
this direction and believed that 'imperialism' should be used only to describe the
capitalist expansion of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.
Several participants repeatedly raised the point that a country that
continues to call itself socialist but is no longer m a y have and can be shown to
have certain imperialist interests, which are against decolonization and the
liberation process of the peoples and nations under discussion.
In reply, it w a s emphasized that a socialist country that became
imperialist would instantly lose all right to call itself socialist. H o w e v e r , the
term 'imperialist' could not be applied to the expansion of Ethiopia in the
nineteenth century, or to the modification by Haile Selassie of the
internationally recognized legal status of Eritrea. A t that time, it was pointed
out, Ethiopia had itself been under the imperialist yoke, and had also been at
a very backward stage of socio-economic development.
T h e V o l u m e Editor suggested that modern imperialism was perhaps a
child of the modern nation-state system rather than a child of capitalism as
such. A nation-state could be socialist domestically and still be imperialist in
its external conduct. This view was strongly disputed. A genuinely socialist
country could not also be imperialist. O n the other hand, it was pointed out
that a country can very well be imperialist while falsely calling itself socialist.
Finally, imperialism appeared to b e essentially a dangerous threat
coming from capitalist countries and multinational enterprises against all the
clearly African states.
Emphasis w a s also placed o n the need to define colonialism and
neo-colonialism, in all their different forms, which would m a k e the problems
of transition towards decolonization clear to the readers.
This was specially important in the cases of the H o r n of Africa and
southern Africa, where colonialism has had quite a different character from
that in the rest of the continent. Certain decolonized countries have formally
acquired independence but are more or less openly in a state of neo-colonial
economic, social and cultural dependence. Others have to contend with the
internal colonialism that characterizes, for example, the southern Africa.
General discussion 145
In the experts' opinion the term 'decolonization' was unsatisfactory as

employed in the working paper prepared by the V o l u m e Editor. Most of
them emphasized that decolonization involving merely a transfer of
sovereignty and administration was at best only a first step. This step
coincided with a national uprising by various classes of the population. It
would perhaps be preferable to employ here the term 'independence
struggle' rather than 'decolonization'.
Beyond this lay the liberation of people by revolution. Such liberation
involved the coming to power of those w h o were formerly oppressed, and the
complete transformation of their economic, social and cultural status.
Workers and peasants liberate themselves—with the help, if necessary, of
other classes or segments of classes—from external imperialist oppression
and from the internal alliances they encounter in post-colonial society.
N o overall theoretical analysis of liberation was put forward.
Liberation was conceived in general as being essentially social and cultural.
But there was no discussion of the tools for its political implementation: the
methods offered to the people for choosing their future, or the ways of
defending what had been w o n against a return offensive of imperialism. O n e
expert laid great emphasis on the idea that a liberation policy should also aim
at producing a 'new m a n ' , adapted to the conditions of the world emerging at
the end of the twentieth century.
Differences also emerged in the matter of the interpretation of the
concept of liberation itself. S o m e experts believed that the process of
liberation should be viewed in the context of a bipolar confrontation between
superpowers, which by increasing risks sometimes masks its advantages. For
the majority of the experts, the ultimate victory over imperialism would be
the imperialists' loss of the 'South African bastion'. After that, imperialism
would no longer threaten Africa. Speaking of models: M o z a m b i q u e and
Angola appeared unquestionably to be the models for southern Africa. T h e
discussion was more lively and the conclusions less definite in the case of
Somalia and Ethiopia. T h e idea of an anti-state 'liberation of the peoples'
was broached, but not developed. Cited was Charles Chaumont's article 'Le
droit des peuples à témoigner d'eux-mêmes'. 3 T h e idea was put forward that
it might be interesting from the legal viewpoint to study a people's right to
oppose the omnipotence of the state since this has officially been recognized
by the United Nations in the case of southern Africa.
Beyond these generally agreed definitions, there was a certain amount
of disagreement regarding the results so far obtained in certain African
countries. T h e idea was put forward that it was difficult to reconcile the
objectives defined above with the existence of firmly established military
regimes. But the discussion remained inconclusive.
S o m e degree of caution regarding the applicability of the adjective
'socialist' to some African governments was suggested. It was even suggested

that the critical classification proposed in this field by a Swedish author,
S. Rudebeck, should be used.
These somewhat radical definitions were probably justified by the
situation in the regions the experts were considering. Several, however,
thought that this analysis was valid for the African continent as a whole.
It would have been worth while to study systematically the idea of
'rupture' or breaking point. It was put forward in connection with the
liberation struggles of Z i m b a b w e : that change is not negotiated but
conquered through armed struggle. M o r e than one expert found it seductive
in theory, but the opinions expressed were generally less dogmatic w h e n
actual situations were being analysed.
T h e experts in general accepted the proposals of the Volume Editor
and of the Committee on the period to be covered by the volume: 1935-80.
The attention of the Volume Editor wasrigorouslydrawn to the subject
of the structure of the table of contents and to the chapter and paragraph
headings. Various recommendations were m a d e , which he promised to
follow in the n e w table of contents.
Notes
1. O n this question, see, for example: Thomas Sentes, Political Economy of Developing
Countries; L . Tjaquwienko, Developing Countries: Regularities, Problems, Perspectives,
M o s c o w , 1974; Colin Leys, African Capitalism in Kenya.
2. In this connection, certain participants cited the following works of reference: A . Cassese
and E . Jouve (eds.), Pour un droit des peuples, Paris, Éditions Berger-Levrault, 1978;
C . Chaumont, 'Le droit des peuples à témoigner d'eux-mêmes', Annuaire du Tiers
Monde, 1976, Paris, Éditions Berger-Levrault, 1977; K . Marx, The Poverty of
Philosophy; F. Fanon, Les damnés de la terre, Paris, François Maspero; V . I. Lenin,
Collected Works, M o s c o w , Progress Publishers, 1964 (see particularly: ' O n National and
Colonial questions', "The Discussion on Self-determination S u m m e d U p ' , 'Socialism and
W a r ' , 'Imperialism, the Highest Stage of Capitalism', ' A Popular Outline', Vol. 22;
Second Congress of the Communist International, 19 July-7 August 1920, Report of the
Commission on the National and Colonial Questions, 26 July (Vol. 31); Lin Piao, Long
Live the Victorious War of the People, Peking; Rosa Luxembourg, Complete Works (I, II,
III and I V ) , Paris, F . Maspero; M a o Tse-tung, Selected Works, Peking, Vol. I, 1966,
Vol. II, 1967, Vol. Ill, 1968, Vol. IV, 1969; K . Marx, Capital, a Critique of Political
Economy, Book I, "The Process of Capitalist Production', Vol. 1. Die Künftigen
Ergebnisse der britischen Herrschaft in Indien; K . Marx and F. Engels, Werke, Vol. 9,
Berlin, Dietz, 1960; K . Marx and F. Engels, The Communist Party Manifesto; J. Stalin,
Principles of Leninism; L . Trotsky, Where is Britain Going? Marxism and our Era, The
Agony of Capitalism and the Tasks of the Fourth International, 'Imperialist W a r and
Revolution' (speech on the Third Anniversary of the University of the East).
3. Chaumont, op. cit.
Southern Africa
The situation in southern Africa is of paramount importance for this volume.

In the twentieth century imperialism has weighed more heavily there than in
any other part of the continent. Social tensions are m u c h more marked than
elsewhere, and are m a d e worse by the superimposed problem of apartheid.
A r m e d struggle has been, and still is, very fierce in this area of Africa.
T h e forms assumed by the liberation of Mozambique and Angola
explain the intense efforts m a d e by Western countries to arrange the
independence of Namibia and Z i m b a b w e to their advantage. The importance
of what was at stake was strongly emphasized by the experts. The liberation
movements are waging a 'decisive' struggle against imperialism and its allies
within the countries. This struggle can have only one outcome: liberation,
comparable to that of Angola or Mozambique, achieved by African forces
alone without any outside intervention. A n d it can have only one result: the
unseating of imperialism, which will be deprived of one of its most important
economic and strategic base.
The length of this struggle, which began in 1930, was noted. 1 The role
of the South African Communist Party is extremely important; and should be
studied in this volume. The present liberation movements are continuing the
decades-long struggle. This is probably one of the most striking phenomena
in the recent history of Africa.
In this perspective, the study of the movements or armed struggle did
not yield any major n e w findings.
The objectives of the most radical leaders are well k n o w n . Their total
opposition to the 'Rhodesian compromise' is not surprising. The preliminary
reports for the present meeting clearly indicate the divergence of views
between those w h o favour total doctrinal and militant intransigence, and
those w h o want to space out the successive stages because they believe it
would be difficult to achieve everything in one single struggle. T h e positions
of both sides on this question have changed very little since the Gaborone
symposium.
It was emphatically stated that the goal of the struggle is the liberation
of the whole of southern Africa, including the present Republic of South
Africa (Azania). T h e aim is to liberate all the peoples of this region without
distinction as to colour or origin, from the alienation of their rights that
imperialism imposes o n them. It is not a question, it was stated, of fighting
apartheid but of building a socialist society.
Discussion became very theoretical on this question between those w h o
advocated total intransigence and those w h o believed that such intransigence
has scarcely any chance of winning through violence. Again, the analysis
remained somewhat superficial. H o w is the idea that it is important for the
whites to stay in Z i m b a b w e and that their interests are to be safeguardedTo
be reconciled with the revolutionary socialist plan for the whole of South
Africa? These two ideas were juxtaposed but were not studied on any
theoretical basis.
Very little information of any significance emerged on the role of
independent African states in the decolonization of southern Africa. It was
noted that the front-line countries had little margin for manoeuvre. T h e
example of Zambia was cited, and the debate concerning the reopening of
Zambia's frontier with Rhodesia was recalled.
A somewhat fuller discussion took place, on the proposal of the Volume
Editor, on the apparently limited support given by the French-speaking
states to the liberation of southern Africa. It was recommended that a study
be m a d e , by contacting the office of the Organization of African Unity in Dar
es Salaam, which was responsible for the liberation movements, of the exact
state offinancial,military and humanitarian aid given by the states, and that
a distinction be m a d e between real aid and verbal support.
T h e role of the O A U in the decolonization of southern Africa was
examined with different degrees of criticism. T h e policy of the O A U seemed
to depend on the personality of its secretary-general and on the attitude of
the 'Club of the Heads of State'. It was suggested that the O A U had perhaps
tended too m u c h to consider the United Kingdom, and not the Africans
involved, as the chief negotiating party in southern Africa and particularly in
the case of Z i m b a b w e . It is likely that it will have to take a stand on South
Africa (Azania) very soon.
T h e initial comments on the role of the United Nations were rather
disparaging. T h e United Nations is a useful forum, and some progress has
been m a d e thanks to its good offices. But the structure of the organization
and the influence wielded in it by the developed countries were considered a
limiting factor.
However, two very positive aspects were noted: the first is the
recognition by the United Nations of the liberation movements approved by
the O A U . This has enabled representatives of the liberation movements to
attend the present meeting.
Secondly, the United Nations gives direct aid to these movements, for
Southern Africa 149
exampleTthrough Unesco. It also keeps a close watch on the activities of

multinational companies in southern Africa.
The role played by the U S S R , before the Second World W a r , in the
decolonization of Africa was emphasized. In the League of Nations, the
U S S R had constantly proposed that the racist parties in southern Africa
should be condemned and a boycott imposed. Its example was followed by
other socialist countries after the Second World W a r .
There was general agreement that no colonialist pressure had been
exerted by the U S S R or by the other socialist countries and on the positive
character of their help to the forces and movements struggling for
independence and liberation in southern Africa. Aid offered to the liberation
movements in the form of arms and military training was acknowledged with
appreciation.
A n idea important from the strategic point of view was put forward by
one expert of the U S S R . T h e aid to the most radical segments of the
liberation movements would have, according to this expert, divided these
movements and weakened them. Another expert replied that this division
was created by imperialist manoeuvres. However, the idea was and is worth
considering at the level of global strategy will not open aid to an active
minority lessen its chances of forming an alliance with other classes in order
to strengthen the armed struggle? But perhaps such aid would, by its very
openness, increase the chances of a radical socialist revolution? This is an old
debating position in the political, military and revolutionary strategy of the
communist parties which appears again. It was not fully discussed.
The title proposed by the Volume Editor, 'the dilemma of Western
countries in southern Africa, 1948-77', was criticized. W h o was in a dilemma
in the Western countries? Should one speak of 'Western countries' or
'capitalist countries'?
The analysis was in general comprehensive, with few nuances. T h e
West is afraid of losing the enormous capital it has invested in its South
African 'bastion'. S o m e experts believe its means of pressure and of 'survival'
are still considerable, despite the weakening of Western Europe brought
about by two world wars and the transfer of a great number of its functions to
the United States. O n e expert announced a very dangerous hardening of
South African policy.
According to some there are forces in the West that favour the
liberation of southern Africa; but these forces—for example, the World
Council of Churches—are viewed with some suspicion because they support
the policy of compromise in Z i m b a b w e .
The question of the Third World's solidarity with Southern Africa was
hardly discussed. It was simply remarked in general terms that most countries
of the Third World, crushed by international economic competition, were
quite unable to take part actively in the liberation of southern Africa.

Several lines of inquiry were proposed to the V o l u m e Editor and the
International Scientific Committee:
There should be close scrutiny of the extent of Western investment in
southern Africa. A working meeting was proposed on this theme. O n e
expert outlined the chronological sequence of the expansion of these
investments.
In southern Africa the gold mines are of decisive economic importance. It
was recalled that a representative of a country in southern Africa had
recently proposed in the United Nations that these mines should be put
at the disposal of the whole of mankind. Gold mines are also places
where the work is very hard. T h e investigations already undertaken o n
this question should be further pursued.
There should also be a study on the lands taken away from Africans since the
seventeenth century.
The analysis of the socio-cultural structure of southern Africa should be
further refined. T h e situation is probably more complex in this region
than in any other part of the continent.
O n the whole, the discussion on the decolonization of southern Africa left
the impression of having been inconclusive and incomplete.
T h e subject being currently in the news, and the presence at the
seminar of scholars w h o are also militants, committed to the struggle that was
under discussion, certainly explains that the discussions sometimes took on
an ideological and political turn rather than remaing purely historical. T h e
historians present had all, at one time or another, remarked that this could be
dangerous and that one must beware of distorting the history of several
decades on account of the passions and preoccupations of the m o m e n t . These
ideas would be further developed with the whole of the volume in view and
should be the subject of another meeting. T o venture on recent and
contemporary history and on questions of world-wide implications is not an
easy task.
T h e Scientific Committee and the V o l u m e Editor must bear these facts
in mind w h e n they finalize the table of contents. They must also bear in mind
the repeated request of several experts that this volume must have an
evolutionary historical dimension and a carefully structured study to give it
consistency, seriousness and durability.
Southern Africa 151
Note
1. O n this subject mention should be made of an important book, written in Russian by

I. Pothekin, A . Zusmanovich and A . Nzula on forced labour and the trade-union
movement in Africa (Moscow, 1933). Albert Nzula was one of the leaders of the
revolutionary movement in southern Africa from 1928 to 1934.
The Horn of Africa
This debate was inevitably dominated, to a large extent, by the difficult

relations between Ethiopia and Somalia. The main arguments of both sides are
stated in the preparatory documents. They are well k n o w n in broad terms.
There seemed to be no easy w a y out of the conflict, which still
continues. T h e idea of seeking a solution through a federation of the peoples
of the Horn of Africa was put forward several times.
N o expert proposed any solution that would satisfy the claims of
Somalia. O n the contrary, s o m e speakers emphasized that being threatened
with dismemberment, Ethiopia was right to appeal for outside help to solve
this crucial problem. T h e Somali military attack seemed to have taken a
heavy toll in both countries.
During the initial stages of the debate, a broad discussion on the nature
and forms of foreign aid in Africa took place.
T h e view was expressed that Cuba's role in southern Africa was a
contribution to liberation, but Cuba's role in the Horn of Africa was
qualitatively different. It was a case of foreign troops helping to decide the
outcome of a conflict between Africans. It was also argued that in the context
of decolonization Africa should cease to depend on external powers to
resolve its conflicts.
This view was strongly contested by several participants, w h o said that
any sovereign country had the right to seek the help of others when its
territory was endangered. In any case the presence of foreign troops was a
consequence of Africa's other problems. Attention was also drawn to the use
of Western troops in conflicts such as those in Shaba and Chad.
With regard to the role of the Soviet Union, it was pointed out that the
U S S R had a long record of supporting the territorial integrity of African
states. It had opposed Katanga's secession from the Congo, Biafra's
secession from Nigeria and separatism in southern Sudan. T h e U S S R ' s role
in Ethiopia was in line with this tradition.
T h e search for a solution to the Somali-Ethiopian conflict was not the
task of the meeting, and the experts desirous of not making matters worse
preferred to explore other more promising avenues of peace.
A rather striking example of the gravity of certain problems, but also of

the possibility of solving them, was provided by the question of the Somali
language. T h e Somali Republic adopted a script using R o m a n characters
several years ago. This written language constitutes the basis of speedy
acquisition of literacy and of science teaching—including Marxism—in the
national language. After the Ethiopian revolution, it was decided to give
equal status to the eight languages spoken in Ethiopia. T h e Amharic script
was used to write these languages, a fact that inevitably aroused great
resentment in Somalia.
A n example such as this probably indicates h o w easily hostility can be
exacerbated by aggressive attitudes, but also h o w it can be pacified in a
different atmosphere.
T h e state of relations between Somalia and Kenya was not analysed.
Concerning Eritrea, one expert expressed the view that the problem
would be solved w h e n linguistic, cultural and religious oppression inherited
from the colonial and post-colonial past had disappeared. If the Government
of Ethiopia kept its promises, the idea of secession should be dropped in
Eritrea.
Apart from this analysis of the present situation, the majority of
experts agreed that the O A U decision concerning the inviolability of African
frontiers pending the complete liberation of the continent was the wisest
solution. There was s o m e discussion of the term 'ethnic nationalism'
proposed by the V o l u m e Editor, but the tendency a m o n g the experts was to
advocate a situation in which frontiers were rendered 'inoperative' by efforts
towards association and unification, so they would no longer confine the
peoples.
T h e discussion turned towards an attempt to clarify the positions of the
relevant governments on socialism and progressivism.
It was said that the Government of Somalia had done m u c h to promote
literacy, education, national unification, emancipation of w o m e n and reform
of inheritance laws.
T h e Revolutionary Government of Ethiopia was given credit for
comparable achievements in thefieldof linguistic equality, development of
education for children from the poorer classes, separation of church and
state, equality for Muslims, and agrarian reform. O n the questions of
agrarian reform and education, the V o l u m e Editor was given precise
information; this was noted with great interest by all the experts present.
Reservations were expressed on the relations of the Ethiopian
Government with trade unions and with students. Questions were asked
about the place of the intelligentsia in Ethiopian political life.
F r o m this quite varied picture, the fact emerges that major problems
exist at present in Ethiopia, which has progressed swiftly from the archaic
economic and social structures of the Empire to a society riddled with

contradictions but where radical reforms have taken place. T h e analysis of
the present-day Ethiopian social structure and of relations between the social
classes and state power was not pursued very far. This fact was again
regretted by several experts, w h o considered it impossible to attempt a
serious examination of the Ethiopian situation in the absence of basic studies
of this society, which has undergone m a n y changes in a very short space of
time.
A s in the case of southern Africa, differing views were expressed about
the attitude of the O A U . Sometimes considered to be an organization that
represents the African petty bourgeoisie, the O A U is also seen as a key
factor in the solution of the Somali-Ethiopian conflict. This conflict is an
internal African one and it was hoped that it would be settled a m o n g
Africans.
A positive contribution of the O A U in settling conflicts in Africa is its
proposal at Khartoum, a few weeks before the present meeting, for the
setting up of a unified African military c o m m a n d .
Another interesting question was raised concerning the influence
exerted by Haile Selassie on the constitution and the working of the O A U .
W h a t legacy has the fallen Emperor left and what influence does Ethiopia
have on the O A U ?
There was discussion of the policy concerning closer relations between
the Middle East and the H o r n of Africa. Although the Horn is not as well
endowed economically as southern Africa, it affects the vital supply routes of
the Western world which link it to the Middle East. T h e Horn's strategic
importance has progressively increased in the period covered by V o l u m e
VIII. Major stages in this development included the consequences of the
Suez war of 1956, Israel's occupation of Arab lands after the 1967 war, the
consequences of the Arab oil embargo of 1973 and the rising power of
O P E C . These events revealed more clearly, to the West especially, the
importance of the Horn in the world economy.
T h e expert's statements on the situation in the Indian Ocean merely
revealed what French, British and American bases existed in this ocean,
without throwing light on the general relationship between the Horn of
Africa and the Indian Ocean.
A proposal was put forward for an investigation of the naval situation
of the great powers in the Indian Ocean.
O n e expert stressed the importance for the coastal states in the Horn of
Africa, as for those in southern Africa, of actively sharing in the
'decolonization of the law of the sea' and also of studying the exploitation of
their maritime resources.
A more fruitful discussion could probably have resulted from the view
that changes in the internal and international situation of Ethiopia had led to
increased foreign interference in Africa. Emphasis was laid on the economic,
social and political consequences of the huge purchases of armaments,
sometimes at the expense of development projects, by certain African states.
Similarly, it was stressed that difficulties could result by arming the people
without a sufficient framework of leadership and disarming them by a
government worried about stability.
S o m e experts thought that too m u c h importance had been attached to
the arrival in Africa of Cuban soldiers, and that equal weight ought to be
given to Cuban help in non-military tasks, such as education in Equatorial
Guinea or in Angola, and to the extensive activities of Brazilians in several
regions of the continent.
Speaking of ideological problems and going beyond the subject of the
Horn of Africa, some experts raised the question of h o w 'external models'
and particularly Western models should be regarded by African states. T h e
general opinion seemed to favour making use of all outside contributions
while at the same time being wary of any exclusive or total dependence.
T o sum u p , what emerges from this part of the discussion is that the
African experts are anxious, above all, to achieve genuine liberation, and to
safeguard the long-term interests of the peoples.
O n e expert raised a last question which could not leave a historian
unmoved. H e noted with apprehension that the historic leaders of Africa
were disappearing one after another, apparently without leaving any
successors of the same stature. O n e can raise this question in another way, by
asking whether the gradual emergence of the African peoples is not making
these people the 'new heroes' of the present period of African history, guided
as they are by leaders w h o are closer to them and are thus seeming at first less
prestigious than their predecessors.
Concluding the discussion with a few general remarks, the experts
expressed the hope that V o l u m e VIII would examine the possibility of
Africans freeing themselves from the 'alienated' space which they inhabit in
urban and rural areas.
Appendices
1. Speech by the representative
of the Director-General of Unesco
Your Excellency the President of the Polish National Commission for Unesco, The
Representative of the Vice-Chancellor,
Ladies and Gentlemen,
O n e of the most important realities of our contemporary world is the
decolonization of Africa.
The League of Nations and then the United Nations gradually formulated,
developed and established as a general rule of law the principle of the right of peoples
to decide their fate through political but also economic and cultural self-
determination. United Nations practice has produced a decolonization law by
clarifying the general provisions of the Charter by the adoption, on 14 December
1960, of Resolution 1514 ( X V ) , entitled Declaration on the Granting of independence
to Colonial Countries and Peoples, which states: 'The subjection of peoples to alien
subjugation, domination and exploitation constitutes a denial of fundamental h u m a n
rights, is contrary to the Charter of the United Nations and is an impediment to the
promotion of world peace and co-operation. . . . All peoples have the right to
self-determination; by virtue of that right they freely determine their political status
and freely pursue their economic, social and cultural development.' This resolution
became the mandate of the Committee of Twenty-four, known as the 'Decolonization
Committee'. Other international declarations and covenants have contributed to the
recognition and consolidation of this principle, which has become an actual rule of
law.
Invoking this rule of international applicable law, the peoples of Zambia,
Malawi, Botswana, Lesotho, Swaziland, Somalia and more recently Djibouti, Angola
and Mozambique have regained their international sovereignty. It is by virtue of this
rule that the liberation movements are waging their armed struggle, and the United
Nations and the O A U are conducting their diplomatic activities in Zimbabwe and
Namibia and in the direction of Azania.
Ladies and gentlemen, the General History of Africa which is being compiled
under the auspices of Unesco is a major enterprise which covers the whole of Africa
both in space, as a continent, and in time, since it covers the period from the origins of
m a n to our o w n day, and perhaps to 1980. So the work is concerned with the question
of the decolonization of Africa, and in particular with the Horn of Africa and
southern Africa; this reflects power relationships in international life, since Africa is
proving to be the focal point of present international tensions. This dramatic
history—a challenge to the h u m a n conscience, to the international community and to
international law—will be analysed and discussed in Volume VIII. Africa since the
Ethiopian War, 1935-1980 is the title of this volume of the General History of Africa,
160 Appendices
and its editor, Professor Ali Mazrui, will be one of the main speakers at the present
seminar.
The study of the decolonization of southern Africa and of the Horn of Africa
will give us a profound understanding of contemporary history both in its internal
aspects and in its regional and international dimensions—that is to say, the
repercussions of decolonization on the economic and political development of
neighbouring countries. Such a project implies a multidisciplinary approach involving
historians, sociologists, political scientists, economists and experts in international
relations. W e are happy to welcome and to thank all the experts for so kindly
accepting the invitation from Poland and Unesco. Y o u w h o are specialists in different
disciplines will, all together, define a complete and living history. Y o u will no doubt
examine all aspects of decolonization: the process itself, the way it takes place, for
example within the countries, the logic and the dynamics underlying the Bantustans,
the national liberation movements, their social make-up and their impact on the
countries concerned, and in Africa their evolution, their internal changes, the reasons
for instance w h y they have become radical, the socio-economic basis of their struggle,
the reasons for their success or for any failures, the help given by blacks abroad and
by political exiles. In addition, as Professor Mazrui suggests in the agenda he is
proposing, you will also study the role of the United Nations in the decolonization of
southern Africa. Apart from diplomatic action, it will be necesary also to study the
struggle against apartheid, economic sanctions and their effectiveness, and the other
forms of assistance that the United Nations and its Specialized Agencies such as
Unesco give to liberation movements in the training of young leaders w h o will take
charge of decolonization. This is because, for the United Nations, decolonization goes
far beyond the proclamation of political independence. It also implies for each people
self-determination, the free definition, and conscious choice of its form of society,
with the aim, of course, of political development but also of economic, social and
cultural advancement.
Thus, while undertaking the most rigorous scientific analysis possible of the
phenomenon of decolonization and particularly of the activities of the liberation
movements, it is important not to neglect the political and ideological dimensions of
their struggle. A n analysis of political speeches and of the organizational system
reveals the ideology that motivates the liberation struggles as well as the liberation
movements' project for society and the problems involved in national construction. It
also gives a better understanding of the subtle tactics of the great powers, dictated by
their strategic, economic or ideological interests, and of the insidious action of the
multinationals, w h o are well aware of United Nations General Assembly Resolution
1803 (XVII) of 14 December 1962, entitled Permanent Sovereignty over Natural
Resources. This resolution proclaims that 'the right of peoples and nations to
permanent sovereignty over their natural wealth and their resources must be
exercised in the interest of their national development and of the well-being of the
people of the state concerned'.
Ladies and gentlemen, w e have seen that the analysis of the phenomenon of
decolonization should go beyond mere accession to international sovereignty. T h e
painful events still afflicting the Horn of Africa remind the historian and the
internationalist of the difficult question of the right of peoples to self-determination,
Appendices 161
and of the thorny problem of nationalities and frontiers, even though the United
Nations and the O AU—agreeing to apply the rule uti possidetis juris, i.e. the principle
of the inviolability of frontiers inherited from colonial days—believe there is nothing
more to add. Undoubtedly V o l u m e VIII will have to consider other similar cases of
irredentism and of frontier disputes.
Ladies and gentlemen, this seminar is thefirstof a series which, in conformity
with the decisions of the International Scientific Committee for the Drafting of a
General History of Africa, will precede the drafting of V o l u m e VIII; the volume's
table of contents will be finalized at one of the forthcoming sessions of the
Committee.
Apart from questions of methodology—how should one write the contempo-
rary history of Africa?—there will be research and scientific consultation on certain
themes, for instance:
1. Africa and the Second World W a r .
2. T h e role played today by the survival or the resurgence of traditional Africa's
precolonial part on the socio-political and cultural level as well as in the framework
of socialist experiments.
3. The building of the nation, national problems and problems of nationality and the
role of the African languages in this connection.
4. Continuity or discontinuity in the forms of African political life.
5. Does a 'public opinion' exist in Africa? W h a t is the role of the mass media, etc.?
These various seminars or conferences should allow original and promising
material to be m a d e available to the authors w h o will write V o l u m e VIII; this material
will give a comprehensive and enriching view of the history of Africa. This is the type
of information which w e hope will emerge from your present meeting.
A w a r e of the competence and of the work of all those meetings here at the
crossroads of the h u m a n sciences—historians, political scientists, sociologists,
internationalists and leaders of decolonization (here I a m referring to representatives
of the Z i m b a b w e African National Union ( Z A N U ) and of the Pan-African Congress
(PAC)—I a m convinced that you will forward a living and instructive perspective of
history before the young people of Africa for w h o m all this General History of Africa
is being written. Thank you in advance for your contribution.
I cannot conclude without expressing, on behalf of the Director-General of
Unesco, M r A m a d o u - M a h t a r M ' B o w , and on m y o w n behalf, our deep gratitude to
the Polish authorities, to the Polish National Commission for Unesco and to the
University of W a r s a w for organizing, in co-operation with Unesco, this seminar.
This proves that m e n from different continents and different cultural areas but
inspired by the same ideal, M a n , and by the same goodwill, can meet within the
United Nations and its Specialized Agencies (in this case, Unesco) to search
objectively and honestly for historical truth, with a view to achieving a better
understanding between peoples and nations by shedding n e w light on the past and the
present of Africa and on its relations with other peoples and continents. I should like
in particular to express m y thanks to Professor Pioro, w h o has played a key role in
organizing this meeting.
Ladies and gentlemen, I wish you every success in your work.
Maurice Glélé
2. List of participants
Said Yusuf Abdi, 1580 Logan N o . 37, Denver, C O 80203, United States.
J. F. Ade Ajayi, International African Institute, 210 High Holborn, London, W . C . I .
B . W . Andrzejewski, 15 Shelley Court, Milton Road, Harpenden, Herts. A L 5 5LL,
United Kingdom.
T . Buttner, Karl Marx University, African and Near East Studies Centre, 701
Leipzig, Karl-Marx Platz 9, German Democratic Republic.
David Chanaiwa, History Department, California State University, Northridge,
91364, United States.
Apollon Davidson, Institute of General History, U S S R Academy of Sciences, 19
Dmiti Ulianoff Street, Moscow.
Jean Dévisse, 14 avenue de la Porte de Vincennes, 75012 Paris.
Edmond Jouve, Chargé de conférence au Département de Science politique de
Paris-I, 3, rue Marié-Davy, 75014 Paris.
Artem Letnev, Africa Institute, U S S R Academy of Sciences, 16 Starokonucheny,
Moscow.
M . Malinowski, University of Warsaw, Warsaw.
Joanna Mantel-Niecko, Al. Wojsha, 01-554 Warsaw.
Christian Meahrdel, Karl Marx University, African and Near East Studies Centre,
701 Leipzig, Karl Marx Platz 9, German Democratic Republic.
E . K . Mashingaidze, National University of Lesotho, P . O . R o m a , Lesotho.
Ali A . Mazrui, Centre for Afro-American and African Studies, University of
Michigan, A n n Arbor, M I 48109, United States.
Jan Milewski, Ul. Czesnika 12/18 m . 2 , 02929 Warsaw.
E . L . Ntoedibe, P A C , Box 2412, Dar es Salaam, United Republic of Tanzania.
Richard Pankhurst, 22 Lawn Road, London N W 3 2 X R .
Zygmunt Pioro, Chocimska 33-15, 00-791 Warsaw.
Jerzy Prokopczuk, Polish Institute of International Affairs, Warecka la, P . O . Box
1000, Warsaw.
Nathan Shamuyarira, Patriotic Front ( Z A N U ) , Caixa Postal, 743, Maputo,
Mozambique.
M . T . Tymowski, University of Warsaw.
B . Winid, Geography Department, University of Warsaw, Kvakowskie-Pnedmiescie
26, Warsaw.
Hagos Gebre Yesus, 6254 Cedar Street, Halifax, Nova Scotia B 3 H 2K2, Canada.
Appendices 163
Unesco representatives
Maurice Glélé, Chief of the Section of African Cultures, Division of Cultural Studies,
Section of Culture and Communication.
Monique Melcer, Division of Cultural Studies.
3. Agenda
I. Decolonization in southern Africa
(a) The general process of decolonization: from the Federation of Rhodesia and
Nyasaland to the aftermath of Angola's independence.
(b) The role of liberation movements in the struggle for southern Africa, 1955-77.
(c) T h e role of independent African states in the decolonization of southern
Africa, 1957-77.
(d) The role of the Organization of African Unity in the decolonization of southern
Africa, 1963-77.
(e) T h e role of the United Nations in the decolonization of southern Africa,
1945-77.
(f) T h e role of socialist countries in the decolonization of southern Africa,
1957-77.
(g) Western dilemmas in southern Africa, 1948-77.
(h) Southern Africa and Third World solidarity, 1960-77.
II. Decolonization in the H o r n of Africa
(a) T h e general process of decolonization: from the Italian occupation of Ethiopia

to the struggle for the O g a d e n .
(b) T h e problem of boundaries in the process of decolonization.
(c) T h e problem of ethnic nationalism in the process of decolonization.
(d) T h e problem of civil-military relations in the process of decolonization.
(e) T h e H o r n of Africa and the Organization of African Unity.
(f) T h e H o r n of Africa a n d the politics of the M i d d l e East.
(g) T h e H o r n of Africa and the big powers:
(i) T h e politics of the Indian Ocean,
(ii) T h e politics of the R e d Sea.
(iii) T h e politics of military bases,
(iv) T h e politics of access to Africa's resources,
(h) Ideology and revolution in the H o r n of Africa: implications for the process of
decolonization.
[11.28] C C . 80/XXX. 5/A

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What topics are discussed in relation to southern Africa?

The general history of Africa: studies and documents 5

In 1964 the General Conference of Unesco, as part of the Organization's

Part I: Decolonization in southern Africa

Part HI: Report of the meeting of experts

Inaugural session 141

The International Scientific Committee for the Drafting of a General History

without broad African international pressure, France would have continued

Racial sovereignty and continental jurisdiction

realize two forms of pan-Africanism, especially in the second half of the

tion. It compromises the freedom of the homeland territories and of their

Distance, values and personality

Guinea, though francophone, scores higher than such anglophone countries

Southern Africa and derivative relations

Dialectical relations: regional and global

the United Nations embargo on sale of arms to South Africa, ambivalent as it

Related to this development is the high consensus the international

1. Vincent B . Khapoya, 'Determinants of African Support for African Liberation Movements:

Perhaps a universally acceptable definition of southern Africa is not possible.

African nationalism a n d decolonization

governments became even most racist. For example, in a desperate bid to

misleading to refer to the dramatic political changes taking place in such

establish peoples' democracies in the place of these outdated political

The political concept w e today k n o w as South Africa came into existence on

the n e w 'constitutional change'. T h e position of whites in general did not

people cannot abandon the national destiny and capitulate to national

There are several interpretations of South Africa's political international

Eric Walker adds to the argument in his History of Southern Africa

H u m a n Rights states categorically: 'All peoples have the right to self-

The national liberation m o v e m e n t of the people of Azania considers that the

before them, at their instigation. A n d this is because South Africa is their

and customs'. This position remained until 1961, w h e n the republican

described in the United Kingdom as 'more sentiment than substance'. T h e

Evolution of status by convention

between the various m e m b e r s of the C o m m o n w e a l t h ' . In 1947, India was

context as struggles 'for the implementation of their right to self-

In recent years southern Africa has become an area of strategic importance

the government to propaganda. T h e information budget went up from

The policy of 'separate development'

become 'independent'. A s they are at present, their shortcomings are that

advocated an intensification of segregation. J. B . Vorster, for his part,

The increase in violence

African Students' Organization ( S A S O ) , the Black People's Convention

The intensification of repression

October 1976 near Cape T o w n , on 19 October at Soweto, and from 1 to 3

The economic challenge

The economic growth of the country, however, requires abundant

constitutes an absolute economic empire; but nowadays this empire is in

Cracks in the structure

The diplomatic challenge

The reaction of the organizations

fighters' victory in Mozambique, Angola, Guinea-Bissau, Cape Verde, Sao

20 March 1978. In an effort to m a k e its actions square with its positions of

O A U . A s will be seen, organizations have often reacted sharply. For a long

Pretoria in August 1977 between. O w e n and Young and several South

8 November France even announced that in accordance with the 4 November

In November 1974 the Prime Minister of South Africa remarked to members