African Politics and Problems in Development 9781685852597

Table of contents :
Map of Africa
Contents
Acknowledgments
INTRODUCTION
1 A Perspective on Scholarship in African Studies
I CLASS FORMATION AND CULTURAL CONTINUITY IN NIGERIA
Map of Federal Republic of Nigeria, 1966
Map of Main Ethnic Groups
2 The Contribution of Tribalism to Nationalism in Western Nigeria
3 Political Parties and National Integration in Nigeria
4 Contradictions in the Nigerian Political System
5 Three Perspectives on Hierarchy: Political Thought and Leadership in Northern Nigeria
6 Nigerian Politics: The Ordeal of Chief Awolowo
7 Nigerian Politics in Perspective
II CLASS AND CULTURE
8 A Dysrhythmic Process of Political Change
9 Political Science and National Integration: A Radical Approach
10 The Nature of Class Domination in Africa
III DEMOCRACY AND DEVELOPMENT
11 Second Beginnings: The New Political Framework in Nigeria
12 Democracy in Africa
13 The Unfinished State of Nigeria
14 Reds and Rights: Zimbabwe's Experiment
15 Developmental Democracy
16 Beyond Capitalism and Socialism in Africa
17 Doctrines of Development and Precepts of the State: The World Bank and the Fifth Iteration of the African Case
CONCLUSION
18 A Coda on Afrocentricity
Index
About the Book and the Authors

Citation preview

AFRICAN POLITICS AND PROBLEMS IN DEVELOPMENT

Africa

AFRICAN POLITICS AND PROBLEMS IN DEVELOPMENT Richard L. Sklar C. S. Whitaker

Lynne Rienner Publishers

•

Boulder & London

Published in the United States of America in 1991 by Lynne Rienner Publishers, Inc. 1800 30th Street, Boulder, Colorado 80301 and in the United Kingdom by Lynne Rienner Publishers, Inc. 3 Henrietta Street, Covent Garden, London WC2E 8LU © 1991 by Lynne Rienner Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Sklar, Richard L. African politics and problems in developement / Richard L. Sklar and C. S. Whitaker. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 1-55587-244-1 1. Nigeria—Politics and government—1980- 2. Nigeria—Economic policy. 3. Zimbabwe—Politics and government—1980- 4. Zimbabwe— Economic policy. I. Whitaker, C. S. (C. Sylvester), 1935II. Title. JQ3082.S57 90-49540 320.9669—dc20 CIP British Cataloguing in Publication Data A Cataloguing in Publication record for this book is available from the British library.

Printed and bound in the United States of America The paper used in this publication meets the requirements of the American National Standard for Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials Z39.48-1984.

To our children Judy and Kathy Sklar Mark and Paul Whitaker

Contents Maps Africa Federal Republic of Nigeria, 1966 Main Ethnic Groups in Nigeria

Frontispiece 12 12

Acknowledgments

ix

INTRODUCTION 1 A Perspective on Scholarship in African Studies

3

PART I CLASS FORMATION AND CULTURAL CONTINUITY IN NIGERIA 2 T h e Contribution of Tribalism to Nationalism in Western Nigeria

13

3 Political Parties and National Integration in Nigeria

23

4 Contradictions in the Nigerian Political System

77

5 Three Perspectives on Hierarchy: Political Thought and Leadership in Northern Nigeria

89

6 Nigerian Politics: T h e Ordeal of Chief Awolowo

109

7 Nigerian Politics in Perspective

153

PART II

CLASS AND CULTURE

8 A Dysrhythmic Process of Political Change

169

9 Political Science and National Integration: A Radical Approach

195

10 T h e Nature of Class Domination in Africa

vii

205

viii

CONTENTS PART III

DEMOCRACY AND DEVELOPMENT

11 Second Beginnings: T h e N e w Political Framework in Nigeria

227

12 Democracy in A f r i c a

249

13 The Unfinished State of Nigeria

265

14 Reds and Rights: Z i m b a b w e ' s Experiment

275

15 Developmental Democracy

285

16 Beyond Capitalism and Socialism in Africa

313

17 Doctrines of Development and Precepts of the State: The World Bank and the Fifth Iteration of the African Case

333

CONCLUSION 18 A Coda on Afrocentricity

357

Index About the Book and the Authors

363 371

Acknowledgments

Persons other than the authors have variously contributed to the body of work represented by this volume; some provided inspiration, encouragement, or example that influenced our development as scholars; others helped to prepare these pages for publication in this f o r m . A l s o , over the years our research has been supported by a number of funding agencies. We welcome this opportunity to thank all concerned. Scholarly legacies for each of us were formed in different ways by the late James Smoot Coleman, H. H. Wilson, Francis D. Wormuth, Thomas Hodgkin, and Hugh H. Smythe. Persons who have benefitted us individually have been acknowledged in our respective books and essays. Those scholars who have encouraged or stimulated both of us along the way include Gerald J. Bender, Barbara J. Callaway, M. G. Smith, A. H. M. Kirk-Greene, Kenneth Robinson, Martin L. Kilson, William 0 . Brown, Paul J. Bohannan, Ruth S. Morgenthau, Mabel M. Smythe, Martin Dent, Harvey Glickman, Jean Herskovitz, David Abernethy, Robert Melson, Howard Wolpe, Michael F. Lofchie, Sayre P. Schatz, Eme O. Awa, Gwendolen M. Carter, Aristede Zolberg, Charles R. Nixon, Pauline H. Baker, Joel D. Barkan, Leslie Rubin, Tidiane Sy, Crawford Young, Peter P. Ekeh, Willard R. Johnson, Ralph A. Young, Oyeleye Oyediran, Gérard Chaliand, Robert H. Bates, Dunstan Wai, Victor A. Olorunsola, Larry Diamond, Richard Joseph, Naomi Chazan, Ernest J. Wilson III, and C. R. D. Halisi. In the preparation of this book for publication we are grateful for the dedicated and painstaking labor, attention, and care of Anne Moran, Nicole Moore, Geoff Bergen (who is also coauthor of one of the essays), our editor, Gia Hamilton, and our publisher, Lynne Rienner. In each case, an engaging personal style helped make our job a pleasure. The support of Eve Sklar has been absolutely vital. Funding agencies that have supported our research during a period of thirty-plus years include the Ford Foundation, the Rockefeller Foundation, the Social Science Research Council, the American Council of Learned Societies, and the Fulbright Scholars Program. Our work has also been supported by these institutions: Princeton University, the Institutes of C o m m o n w e a l t h S t u d i e s ( L o n d o n and O x f o r d ) , B r a n d e i s U n i v e r s i t y , the U n i v e r s i t y of California (Los Angeles), the University of Ibadan, the University of Zambia,

ix

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

the University of Manchester, the Harry S. Truman Research Institute (Hebrew University of Jerusalem), Rutgers University, the University of Lagos, Bayero University (Kano), and the University of Southern California. In general, the experience of presenting this volume has been a satisfying reminder that in the lonely pursuit of scholarship, scholars are never alone: in that sense we are indebted to a roster of folk too numerous to tabulate, but we appreciate them. R. L. S. C.S. W.

INTRODUCTION

A Perspective on Scholarship in African Studies R i c h a r d L. Sklar

•

C. S. W h i t a k e r

This collection o f essays represents a series of attempts by t w o scholars o v e r a period o f three d e c a d e s to do j u s t i c e to the integrity and c o m p l e x i t y of A f r i c a n politics. For us, this task has frequently meant breaking out of influential f r a m e w o r k s o f analysis to o f f e r relatively unorthodox ideas. O v e r the years, these efforts have not infrequently occasioned controversy and discussion among other students of A f r i c a n societies and specialists w o r k i n g in the field o f development policy. The w o r k contained in these essays includes such concepts and themes as: the political class; dysrhythmic change; the managerial bourgeoisie; confrontation s o c i e t y ; p o s t i m p e r i a l i s m ; the u n f i n i s h e d state; d e v e l o p m e n t a l d e m o c r a c y ; contradictions b e t w e e n constitutional and technological power, political competition, and enmity; Afrocentricity; and democracy in A f r i c a . Until now, these materials, scattered among a number of essays written in a variety of contexts and at different times, have remained dispersed and therefore relatively inaccessible as a b o d y of w o r k ; unfortunately, too, their relevance has often been obscured in the w a k e of various quests for grand theory applicable to A f r i c a and to A f r i c a n politics. This b o o k brings together this w o r k . M o r e significantly, w e hope that it will help to reinforce the practice o f maintaining critical perspective on perv a s i v e scholarly traditions. W e also w e l c o m e the occasion to place in proper historical and scholarly context the approaches to the subject of A f r i c a n politics exhibited in these essays.

HISTORICAL AND CRITICAL PERSPECTIVES In the aftermath of World War II, the eyes of social scientists in Europe and the United States shifted f r o m the familiar and s e e m i n g l y settled w o r l d o f the major industrial-military powers to the emergent and suddenly assertive polities of A f r i c a , A s i a , and Latin A m e r i c a . T h e attractions of research beyond Europe and North A m e r i c a were twofold. First, social scientists were motivated by a w i d e l y shared commitment to the advancement of freedom, in whose name the A l l i e s had fought World War II. Progressive-minded people everywhere believed that the "empire of freedom" should be extended rapidly to the subject peoples of colonial and semicolonial countries. However, in the early

4

INTRODUCTION

1950s, a wave of political reaction swept across the United States and arrested the careers of prominent scholars considered to be "left-leaning," especially in the field of Asian—and particularly Chinese—studies. Several academics in this group were vindictively singled out and blamed for having "lost" China to communism by failing to support the government of Chiang Kai-shek in mortal struggle against Mao Tse-tung and the Chinese Communists. That political hurricane largely spent its force in Asian studies and essentially missed the innocent shores of professional African studies, which flourished during the 1950s and 1960s with its idealism substantially intact. Thus, the African field was mostly developed by scholars who were inclined to view their research as a contribution to colonial and racial freedom. Virtually every one of the pioneering works in Africana scholarship published during the 1950s had that explicit value orientation. T h e s e c o n d g r e a t a t t r a c t i o n of " n e w w o r l d " — a n d e s p e c i a l l y A f r i c a n — s t u d i e s during the 1950s was scientific in inspiration. Leading scholars in several social science disciplines concluded that the time had come to create truly universal human, social, or behavioral sciences. They perceived that new frontiers of research existed in the problems of "nonWestern" societies, and they were captivated by the accompanying methodological and scientific challenges. They were particularly enamored of interdisciplinary studies, and they proceeded to construct comprehensive frameworks of inquiry into societal development on a world scale. Their renowned achievement was the paradigm of "modernization." Succinctly, the paradigm of modernization connotes the various social, institutional, and behavioral transformations associated with the rise of industrial civilizations, including altered economic, familial, legal, and political relationships, and concomitant w a y s of thinking. The so-called theory of modernization is an exploration of the apparently pervasive ramifications of these upheavals. In many respects, this venture has constituted the core of modern social science from the era of Comte, Marx, and Spencer down to the later Parsonian synthesis of their work and reflections, and beyond. Modernization theory was also buttressed by two other analytical constructs: pluralism and functionalism. Pluralism, as an analytical construct, is not the same thing as the condition of social or political pluralism, meaning that social and political groups in a particular society are diverse and relatively autonomous. Analytically, pluralism means that social phenomena are to be conceived as a process of group interaction, as in a game with no permanent winners or losers but only continuous activity. Variations on this notion are that government is all about this process; or, alternatively, that government and the state are actually neutral entities, whose disposition merely reflects such a process: outcomes are determined by the relative "access" or degree of control that these groups may succeed in attaining. In the nature of the case, access and control may never be permanent or total. Accordingly, and virtually by definition, the

PERSPECTIVE O N SCHOLARSHIP

5

concept of pluralism precludes the possibility of political domination by a social class and perforce overlooks or underestimates the power of contemporary "premodern" cultures and social conditions whose continuities reflect the legacy of such a state of affairs. As an analytical tool, functionalism is even more remote from presumptive ideas of dominant social position. In functionalist thought, partial or particular interests are subordinated to systemic dynamics: the whole is always more important than the sum of its parts. What pluralism and functionalism share with the paradigm of modernization is that, unrealistically, they do not come to grips with the great problems of imperial social and political forms or with radically asymmetrical relationships of political and social power. Not surprisingly, disillusionment with these schools of thought eventually developed. Soon, modernization scholarship was overshadowed by the massive influence of theories of induced underdevelopment, alleging that capitalism intrinsically entails the underdevelopment of those relatively poor societies that it penetrates. In due course, revolutionary radicalism as an attribute of scholarship was overtaken by the nearuniversal emergence of a preference for market as opposed to command economies. Thus, by the late 1970s, it had become accepted by many scholars that economic statism was the principal underlying cause of Africa's poor economic performance compared with all other regions of the world. These developments left students of Africa with the challenge of fresh political analysis. Theoretical rigidity and ideological lag may have kept many scholars from exploring new avenues of analysis, especially insofar as the feasibility of democratic governance in African states might be implied. Maintaining a certain distance from global models of development might again be relevant. These are fundamentally important matters, to which we return at the end of this introductory essay and in a coda to this volume. ORGANIZATION OF THE ESSAYS The essays assembled here represent an intellectual partnership that was spontaneously formed in the mid-1950s by two graduate students who were uncomfortable with treatments of Africa that were uncritically based on standard interpretations of world politics derived from Western ideological and analytical tenets. Later, in complementary books, one of us (Sklar) explored the political implications of social class formation in Nigeria, 1 while the other (Whitaker) demonstrated the reality of cultural continuity in Nigerian political behavior and organization. 2 These themes are echoed in our essays on the independence movement and postcolonial crisis in Nigeria. All six essays in Part I belong to that group, as do two of the three essays on class and culture in Part II. Published between 1960 and 1967, these essays were quickly perceived to diverge from the mainstream of modernization scholarship in African studies. Each of

6

INTRODUCTION

them introduced a distinctive analytical idea about contemporary African politics. Factual data contained in the essays was accurate at the time of original publication. Chapter 2, based on politics in southwestern Nigeria, revealed the latent potential for explosive political conflict between traditional communities and emergent classes. It turns out that purely class conflicts are far less difficult to resolve peacefully by political means than class versus communal conflicts, which involve fundamental challenges to sacred values. Chapter 3, a coauthored essay, is a comprehensive overview of the emergence of political parties in the period before, during, and immediately after Nigeria's transition to national independence. This chapter is an attempt to demonstrate the primacy in Nigeria of social class formation vis-à-vis ethnic, linguistic, and sectional forces—historically, culturally, and in contemporary contexts. It indicates that conclusions derived from theories of social class formation in Europe may be misleading with respect to Africa. Indeed, the Northern Nigerian experience is a classic example of institutional change and structural continuity on a grand scale. Chapter 4 explores the nature of "contradictions" in the postcolonial Nigerian state. Contradictions here refer to incompatible political relationships that produce conflict. In Nigeria, frequently they were generated through exercises of political power. There is no mistaking the political basis of class formation in this context. Chapters 5 and 6 are concerned with the ideas and experiences of individual Nigerian leaders against the background of social and political exigencies. The political thought of the three most prominent Northern Nigerian nationalist leaders displays the wide spectrum of viable ideological perspectives—from conservatism to moderate progressivism and radical egalitarianism—that may be derived from an Islamic social order. The African society in question possesses its own sense of integrity, which does not depend upon ideals external to Africa. "The Ordeal of Chief Awolowo" portrays this major party leader's own personal and political crisis as a decisive drama also of class struggle within a political party. In Chapter 7, Nigeria's First Republic succumbs to the cumulative effects of unresolved contradictions, particularly stemming from a chronic imbalance between constitutional and technological (including educational) power in society. In this case, tragic consequences ensued, in the form of civil war. Chapters 8 and 9 represent attempts by each author, respectively, to draw conclusions from a decade of empirical research in Nigeria. In Chapter 8, Whitaker contends that unilinear models of modernization constitute a misconception that, by failing to account for cultural continuities in the processes of change, distort historical and political experience. Chapter 9 offers a rationale for class analysis as an alternative to functional-elite theories of national integration. This essay also warns against the prevailing tendency of Marxist thought in development studies to justify dictatorships in the name of progress.

PERSPECTIVE O N SCHOLARSHIP

7

Chapter 10 proposes a view of class domination based on power relations as opposed to relations of production. This departure from standard Marxist propositions about class structure implies that political organization, including the system of public administration, is the principal determinant of social stratification in Africa. From this perspective, the dominant classes of African societies are seen to be autonomous and, contrary to so-called dependency theories, morally responsible for their conduct of public affairs. This essay also introduces the idea of a managerial bourgeoisie, derived from Sklar's analysis of transnational corporate enterprise in Africa. 3 It identifies the dominant class in a country that has attained early or intermediate stages of industrialization while private enterprise developed in conjunction with a supportive public sector, one that is still preponderant in the national economy. 4 The essays in Part III of this book indicate that democracy in Africa is pursued widely in various forms at both national and subnational levels of government. Chapter 11 considers the restoration of constitutional democracy in Nigeria following some fourteen years of military rule. During this era, Nigerians sought remedies for an agonizing set of social tensions and political conflicts through reform of national political institutions. This essay points both to the limits and relevance of that effort, especially in light of the intimate connection between the origins of those institutions and the sources of Nigerian political instability. It introduces a critical distinction between dynamics of competition and forces of enmity, which that instability has involved. Chapter 12 finds that democracy in Africa is a self-directed response to problems of development, which have not been addressed effectively by dictatorial means. It suggests, furthermore, that Africa's quest for a developmental democracy represents a contribution to knowledge about the meaning and significance of democracy itself as a form of political organization. In Chapter 13, the fall of Nigeria's Second Republic is attributed to a weak moral relationship between the culturally diverse and legitimated communities of Nigeria and the country's anomic central political organization. It indicates that until the national political machinery becomes normatively congruent with social standards of legitimacy, no form of government can expect to be stable. 5 Chapter 14 examines the deliberate promotion of constitutionalism by an avowedly Marxist-Leninist regime in Zimbabwe. The innovations involved included judicial independence and review. The essay foreshadows the rise of similar democratic mutations within European communist regimes. In Chapter 15, the idea that democratic practices ("fragments of democracy") aggregate to produce developmental outcomes is proposed as an alternative to the standard theory of democracy as a dependent variable. Democratic experimentation is a mainspring of development, rather than a consequence, primarily, of behavioral, cultural, economic, or social preconditions.

8

INTRODUCTION

Chapter 16 presents an assessment of capitalism and socialism, respectively, that is made on the basis of the potential of each to cope with the challenges of economic development in Africa. This treatment reveals that each is flawed: socialism lacks an adequate theory of incentives, while capitalism tends to minimize concern for basic human needs. It indicates that if African countries are to progress economically and socially, African political thought must transcend the long-standing antipathy between capitalism and socialism. Chapter 17 looks at the African state through the lens of World Bank thinking on problems of African development. Comprehension of the incongruity between assumptions underlying pervasive developmental precepts and the historical character of the African state is seen to be crucial to the formation of sound policy, including further democratization. The conclusion, Chapter 18, draws attention to the unifying connection in all these essays between the validity of analysis and the basic perspective taken by scholars on the subject of African politics. T h e viewpoint that African realities are the thing to be explained, as opposed to a preoccupation with externally derived categories of analysis, is identified as the essential cogency of the term "Afrocentricity." The discussion suggests that the alternative is an unfortunate tendency, remarked in these essays, to expound western doctrinal positions rather than to interpret African events. O N DEMOCRACY AND AFROCENTRICITY We differ from many commentators on the progress of democracy in Africa primarily by virtue of declining to classify whole political systems into simple categories of democratic, partially democratic, and nondemocratic. Often, the dividing line between political systems that are classified as partially democratic and those alleged to be nondemocratic is subjective—that is, determined by the perceptions of the commentators themselves. An alternative perspective is that all political systems are mixtures of democratic and oligarchic elements. Today, as in the 1950s, social, including political, research is needed to clarify certain relationships among freedom, democracy, and development—in Africa and everywhere. The qualitative assessment of a political system in terms of democracy is partly a matter of the relative salience of oligarchic and democratic elements. This distinction, in turn, depends in significant part on how widely cast is the domain of political life, i.e., which institutions are included in, and which are excluded from the definition of what is political. For example, in Western social science it has been conventional to define a society's political system in a manner that excludes various oligarchic institutions, notably corporate economic enterprises. 6 To the extent, however, that the political system is conceived as encompassing all public relationships of power in society, African and other non-Western political systems are often construed as less democratic than others merely on the grounds of an unduly constricted view of what is political.

PERSPECTIVE O N SCHOLARSHIP

9

Statist mismanagement of the economy in Africa, whether in the form of bureaucratic inefficiency, rent-seeking elites, incentive-destroying economic policies, or the systematic abuse of public office for private gain, has produced economic stagnation on a continental scale, irrespective of the ideological orientations of particular African governments. 7 But if statism does entail economic stagnation—and the evidence to that effect seems overwhelming—then predicting the indefinite persistence of dictatorships in Africa must be viewed as condemning the vast majority of African people to both poverty and repression indefinitely. T h e i m p l i c a t i o n s of this assessment are as appalling scientifically as they are morally. The crucial question is whether African statism is to be understood as endemic, or as a reality in flux. In A f r i c a , as elsewhere, the basic alternative to statism is a society anchored in the conception of the public interest. From that standpoint, citizens in all walks of life continuously contribute to the ensemble of ideas and actions, which are converted into public policies by state officials in the name of service to society. Antistatists seek to maximize the power of public organizations controlled by citizens. Their goal is democracy: literally, "power of the people." Our essays contain abundant evidence of social action and judgment in Africa that is unmistakably rooted in conceptions of democratic accountability, the rule of law, rights of popular participation, basic freedoms, and democratic practices familiar to Western societies. Our writings indicate that in this perspective democracy is practiced widely in Africa in various forms at both national and subnational levels of government. Disbelief in the viability of democracy in the African context, we find, may well reflect a lingering stereotypical bias, rather than a properly scientific judgment. The authors' encounters with ethnocentric theories of modernization some thirty years ago serve to sensitize us today to the stigmata of ethnocentric theories of democracy and democratic capacity. Just as the unilinear precept of modernization could not make room for cultural flexibility and self-determination, and was therefore eventually challenged, so overly narrow theories of democracy that underestimate the variety and vigor of democratic precepts and practices in Africa should not be uncritically accepted today. Particularly now that democracy looms as the master conception of politics for people everywhere, social scientists should be alert to the efficacy of formulations of political behavior that avoid one-dimensional, narrowly political versions of democracy that coincide with the course of development in the West. Similarly, in view of the recent recession of antiliberal theorizing in development studies, it is now all the more important to resist ethnocentric tendencies in Western liberal thought, including those that in recent years produced justifications for use abroad of illiberal doctrines that were rejected at home. A multidimensional conception of democracy, one that is broadly social

10

INTRODUCTION

as w e l l as political, w i l l help to reveal the existence of democratic forces, norms, and practices in A f r i c a n societies that have been persistently overl o o k e d or underrated and that presently provide the currents o f political interactions, even in A f r i c a n states that might f o r the moment appear to be beyond the pale o f f r e e d o m . O n l y an A f r o c e n t r i c — w h i c h is to say, ultimately, an adeq u a t e l y u n i v e r s a l — p e r s p e c t i v e o n d e m o c r a c y o f f e r s any real chance o f achieving a sufficiently cogent and comprehensive understanding of A f r i c a n politics (to say nothing o f politics elsewhere). Even now, A f r i c a ' s quest f o r g o o d g o v e r n m e n t enriches the theory o f democracy and helps to refine its practice f o r application in other parts o f the world.

NOTES 1. Richard L. Sklar, Nigerian Political Parties: Power in an Emergent African Nation (Princeton 1963). 2. C. S. Whitaker, The Politics of Tradition: Continuity and Change in Northern Nigeria, 1946-1966 (Princeton 1970). 3. See Richard L. Sklar, Corporate Power in an African State: The Political Impact of Multinational Mining in Companies in Zambia (Berkeley and Los Angeles 1975); Sklar, "Postimperialism: A Class Analysis of Multinational Corporate Expansion," Comparative Politics, 9, 1 (October 1976), 75-92. For further developments of postimperialist thought in world perspective, see David G. Becker, Jeff Frieden, Sayre P. Schatz, and Richard L. Sklar, Postimperialism: International Capitalism and Development in the Late Twentieth Century (Boulder 1987). 4. In this essay and related works, the term "managerial bourgeoisie" refers (with explicit elaboration) to a broadly conceived social class and not (as a few commentators have incorrectly suggested) to an occupational elite or "class" of managers. 5. For a parallel discussion in the context of European politics, see Harry Eckstein, Division and Cohesion in Democracy: A Study of Norway (Princeton 1966), Appendix B. 6. An important exception to this rule is Charles E. Lindblom, Politics and Markets: The World's Political-Economic Systems (New York 1977). 7. The early warnings of astute scholarly observers include the following notable studies: Elliot J. Berg, "Socialism and Economic Development in Tropical Africa," Quarterly Journal of Economics, 78, 4 (November 1964), 549-573; Michael F. Lofchie, "Political and Economic Origins of African Hunger," The Journal of Modern African Studies, 13, 4 (December 1975), 551-567; Lofchie, "Agrarian Crisis and Economic Liberalization in Tanzania," The Journal of Modern African Studies, 16, 2 (June 1978), 221-239; Robert H. Bates, Markets and States in Tropical Africa (Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London 1981). While the subsequent literature on statism and its relationship to stagnation is voluminous, two essays are fundamental for Africanists: Sayre P. Schatz, "Pirate Capitalism and the Inert Economy of Nigeria," The Journal of Modern African Studies, 22, 1 (March 1984), 45-57; Larry Diamond, "Class Formation in the Swollen African State," The Journal of Modern African Studies, 25, 4 (December 1987), 567-596.

I CLASS FORMATION AND CULTURAL CONTINUITY IN NIGERIA

SoKoto*

Katsina* Gusau«

Kano* NORTHERN Zaria*

Kaduna*

REGION Bauchi.

,Buea Victoria F e d e r a l R e p u b l i c of N i g e r i a , 1 9 6 6

Main Ethnic Groups

Maidugun*

The Contribution of Tribalism to Nationalism in Western Nigeria Richard L. Sklar

T r i b a l i s m is t h e red d e v i l of c o n t e m p o r a r y A f r i c a . It w a s c o n d e m n e d by nationalists at the first A l l - A f r i c a n Peoples C o n f e r e n c e as "an evil practice" and "a serious o b s t a c l e " to "the unity. . . the political evolution. . . [and] the rapid liberation of A f r i c a . " 1 T h e case against tribalism rests mainly on the premise that tribal m o v e m e n t s thrive on ethnic g r o u p loyalties w h i c h undermine wider loyalties to e m e r g i n g national states. M o r e o v e r , tribal loyalties are supposed to entail implicit attachments to traditional values and institutions which are thought to be incompatible with the requirements of social reconstruction. T h e s e a s s u m p t i o n s are questioned in this article which is limited to the discussion of t w o m a n i f e s t a t i o n s of tribalism in southwestern Nigeria. T h e first, pantribalism, is a v i g o r o u s o f f s p r i n g of m o d e r n urbanization and the distinctive expression of ethnic g r o u p activity f o r the most politically conscious m e m b e r s of a n e w and rising class. T h e second, c o m m u n a l partisanship, is endemic to rural areas and old t o w n s w h e r e traditional values are p a r a m o u n t and the socially c o h e s i v e ties of traditional authority are b i n d i n g u p o n the people. Both m a n i f e s t a t i o n s of tribalism have given impetus to the g r o w t h of mass political parties and the m o v e m e n t f o r national independence. It will s u f f i c e as b a c k g r o u n d to outline briefly the political setting of Nigeria, a nation of s o m e 3 5 million people (according to a dated census), and to identify the m a i n tribal g r o u p s and the m a j o r political parties. Nigeria is a Federation of three political Regions, each of w h i c h has a Legislature and an Executive Council headed by a Premier. In every Region a single "nationality" g r o u p of c u l t u r a l l y related t r i b e s 2 is n u m e r i c a l l y p r e p o n d e r a n t : t h e Yoruba in the Western R e g i o n , the Ibo in the Eastern Region and the H a u s a in the N o r t h e r n R e g i o n . T h e r e are t h r e e m a j o r p o l i t i c a l p a r t i e s : the A c t i o n group, the National C o u n c i l of Nigeria and the C a m e r o o n s ( N C N C ) , and the N o r t h e r n P e o p l e ' s C o n g r e s s ( N P C ) ; they c o n t r o l the G o v e r n m e n t s of the Western, Eastern, and N o r t h e r n R e g i o n s respectively. T h e A c t i o n G r o u p is the official O p p o s i t i o n in the East and in the North; the N C N C is the official O p p o s i t i o n in t h e W e s t a n d o p e r a t e s t h r o u g h an ally in t h e N o r t h ; t h e Originally published in the Journal of Human Relations, 8 (1960), 407-418. Reprinted by permission of the author and the Journal of Human Relations.

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14

CLASS & C U L T U R E IN

NIGERIA

Northern People's Congress is restricted to persons of Northern origin. The Northern Region, however, contains about 54 per cent of the population of Nigeria, and the Northern People's Congress emerged from the federal election of December, 1959 with 142 of the 312 seats in the Federal House of Representatives, followed by the NCNC with 9, the Action Group with 73, and 8 members who are independent of the major parties. Presently the Federal Government consists of an NPC-NCNC coalition with an NPC Prime Minister, while the Action Group forms the Federal Opposition. Nigeria is destined to achieve independence within the British Commonwealth on October 1,1960. PANTRIBALISM

The Yoruba people, or "nationality," of Western Nigeria comprise a number of tribal sections that have a long history of conflict with one another attributable largely to precolonial effects of the slave trade. Pan-Yoruba unity was an ideal fostered by a twentieth century elite of educated men and women who followed entrepreneurial, professional, managerial, and clerical vocations in new urban areas, principally in the commercial centers of Lagos and Ibadan. In 1944 a group of Yoruba students and professional men in London organized a pan-Yoruba cultural society called Egbe Omo Oduduwa (Society of the Descendants of Oduduwa). 3 Four years later the society was inaugurated in Western Nigeria at a conference attended by illustrious Yoruba personalities who claimed to follow the example of pantribal organization set by other tribes and nationalities, in particular the Ibo people of Eastern Nigeria. It is not improbable that the founders of the Egbe Omo Oduduwa were motivated by interests that were political as well as cultural. Most of them were politically oriented men of the new and rising class—lawyers, doctors, businessmen, civil servants, and certain far-sighted chiefs—who perceived that the locus of economic and political power was not local but regional and national. In 1950, leaders of the Egbe Omo Oduduwa were among the principal organizers of a new political party called the Action Group, which came to power in the Western Region as a result of a general election held the following year. It was the chief aim of the founders of the Action Group to overcome the ingrained particularism of the Yoruba tribes and weld them together behind a political party that would serve their common interests. In the rural areas and in traditional towns of Western Nigeria, chiefs are among the most influential leaders of opinion, and the fate of a political party may hinge on the extension of their support. The Action Group applied that principle and reared its mass organization largely upon the foundation of support by traditional authorities. Two powerful inducements attracted various chiefs into the fold of the Action Group: some of the chiefs were nonparochial in outlook and responded to the cultural appeal of panYoruba unity; others were impressed by the political and economic power of

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the pantribal elite and embraced the new party with enthusiasm or with resignation to the new facts of political life. The rise of the Action Group in the city of Lagos attested to the efficacy of collaboration between a traditional authority and the pantribal elite. Lagos, the capital of the Federation, is a Yoruba town that burgeoned into the principal port and main commercial center of Nigeria. Prior to 1954 it was administered under the Western Regional Government. The population of Lagos may be said to comprise three main ethnic categories: the indigenous Yorubas, the n o n i n d i g e n o u s Yoruba settlers, and other settlers w h o are non-Yoruba. Traditional values weigh heavily upon the indigenous community while the values and social perspectives of the settler groups are primarily nontraditional. For about 25 years prior to 1950, Lagos local politics pivoted on the rivalry between a majority of the Yoruba indigenous community and the main body of Yoruba settlers. When the Action Group was organized in 1950, it derived its following in Lagos mainly from the Yoruba elite, most of whom were settlers. The vast majority of indigenous Yorubas and most of the nonYoruba settlers favored an older party, the National Council of Nigeria and the Cameroons (NCNC). Within a few years of the inauguration of its Lagos branch, the Action Group managed to obtain the support of a majority of the Yoruba indigenes, an achievement that was due largely to the efforts of the Oba (Paramount Chief) of Lagos. The latter was an enthusiastic proponent of pan-Yoruba unity and he applied his influence among the indigenes effectively on behalf of the Action Group. Everywhere in the Western Region, leaders of the Action Group solicited the active co-operation of traditional chiefs. Those few chiefs who were hostile to the party or obstructed the implementation of its policies courted jeopardy. A celebrated case of opposition by one paramount chief, the ex-Alafin (king) of Oyo, created a general impression throughout the Western Region that no chief could stand against the Government Party and survive. Oyo was once the capital of an extensive Yoruba empire, and the Alafin is one of the most exalted of the Yoruba chiefs. However, the ex-Alafin was a conservative chief of the old order whose relationship with the Action Group deteriorated rapidly soon after that party came to power. Supporters of the Alafin, including nontraditionalists who opposed the Action Group for political reasons, formed an Oyo People's Party and decided to affiliate with the NCNC. In September, 1954, there was an outbreak of partisan violence at Oyo in the course of which several people were killed. The Regional Government held the Alafin to b l a m e and s u s p e n d e d him f r o m office; eventually he w a s deposed. In this context the substance of the issue at Oyo is irrelevant. What m a t t e r s to us is the f a c t that a p o w e r f u l c h i e f w a s s u s p e n d e d by the Government and banished from his domain upon the recommendation of a committee of Obas (Paramount Chiefs) at a joint meeting with the leaders of the Egbe Omo Oduduwa. The Action Group may have resolved to banish the Alafin in any case, but the Egbe, technically a pantribal cultural organization,

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supplied a moral sanction from the most respectable elements in Yoruba-land, including t h t A l a f i n ' s traditional peers. It must be emphasized that the Action Group as a political party, and the Egbe Omo Oduduwa, as a cultural organization, are technically distinct organizations. In theory the Egbe is nonpartisan and its relationship to the Action Group is wholly unofficial; in practice its service to the Action Group is beyond compare. The two associations are virtually inseparable in certain rural areas where the traditional chiefs bless them both in the name of the cultural and political interests of the people. Frequently, the pantribal organization is employed to settle disputes between Yoruba personalities, in particular among chiefs, that might otherwise embarrass the Action Group. Occasionally, it has been utilized by the pantribal elite, as in the extreme case of the zx-Alafin of Oyo, to coerce a recalcitrant chief. In general, the Egbe Omo Oduduwa functions as a crucial link between the Action Group, the chiefs, and other men of influence to facilitate the implementation of party policies (including policies affecting the position of chiefs), with a minimum of difficulty or resistance. COMMUNAL PARTISANSHIP Communal partisanship, unlike pantribalism, implies the affirmation of traditional value. Yet the nationalistic parties have relied upon it for mass support in areas of traditional habitation. The Government Party of the Western Region has enlisted communal partisanship by means of a systematic program involving the co-operation of chiefs. However, there are examples of communal partisanship emerging in opposition to the Government Party and persisting in defiance of the communal chief. Two such cases, at Benin and Ibadan, are examined here. Benin, the capital city of the Edo people, provides an example of conflict between a traditional community and a rising class. The Edo are a minority group in the predominantly Yoruba Western Region. Some years ago, Edo men of wealth and high social status formed a Benin branch of the Reformed Ogboni Fraternity, 4 an exclusive society founded at Lagos by rising class Yorubas who were inspired by the example of European freemasonry. At first, membership in the Lodge was restricted to the town elite, i.e., professionals, businessmen, employees of firms, and leading chiefs. Subsequently, the Lodge was transformed by its leadership into a political machine and opened to all administrative and business officials, both high and petty. From 1948 to 1951 the Ogbonis, under a dynamic leader, dominated the administration of the Benin Division to the chagrin of its traditional ruler, the Oba of Benin, and the distress of the people. Ogbonis are reported to have controlled the tax system, the markets, the police, the courts, access to the firms, etc. It is said that the members of the Lodge could violate the law with impunity, and that they enjoyed special privileges in most spheres of political and economic activity. By 1950 Ogbonism had become synonymous with oppression. Moreover, the

TRIBALISM IN THE WEST

17

people of Benin identified it with the bugbear of Yoruba domination, and their anxieties mounted in 1951 when the principal Ogboni leaders affiliated with the Action Group, a new political party under Yoruba control. Meanwhile, n o n - O g b o n i s f o r m e d a popular party, known as the Otu Edo (Benin Community), dedicated to defend tradition and the sacred institution of Obaship against the alleged encroachments of usurpers. In 1951 the popular party swept the Ogbonis from office in local government elections and defeated them soundly in contests for the regional Legislature. However, the vindication of traditional value by the electorate did not restore the political supremacy of the Oba. His attempts to control the Otu Edo were frustrated by progressive leaders of that party for whom the cause of tradition had been an expedient means to further nationalistic and other political ends. Since the Ogbonis were partisan to the Action Group, the leaders of the Otu Edo resolved to affiliate with the NCNC. The Oba spurned the thought of affiliation with either national party. His primary interest was the creation of a new state in the non-Yoruba provinces of the Western Region where Edo influence would be dominant, and he organized an independent party to attain that objective. But it is perilous for any chief to stand against the party in power. In the words of an official report, commenting on the case of the ex-Alafin of Oyo, to which we have referred: "The shadow of one great Chief, now deposed and in exile, lies across the foreground of every Chief's outlook today." 5 In 1955 the Oba made his peace with the Western Regional Government; the Government endorsed the idea of a non-Yoruba state in principle, and the Oba, in turn, agreed to join the Government as a Minister without portfolio. A small minority of the Benin people who supported him against the Ogboni menace to his authority now followed him into the Action Group; but the vast majority remained loyal to their communal party, the Otu Edo. Their reverence for Benin tradition and the institution of Oba-ship (Chieftaincy) persisted, but they condemned the incumbent Oba (Paramount Chief) for his switch to the party that was associated in Benin with Ogbonism and class interest. Our second case of communal partisanship, at Ibadan, capital of the Western Region, reflects an underlying conflict between urban settlers and sons of the soil. Ibadan, with a population of nearly 500,000, is the largest African city on the African continent. Urbanization at Ibadan exemplifies the two sector pattern of development that is typical of traditional towns. A vast majority of the people dwell in the teeming indigenous sector; they live in family "compounds" of more than one hundred people in most cases, subject to the traditional authority of a family head. An average Ibadan man divides his time between the town and the rural districts, where he cultivates cocoa on family land. Men of initiative from other towns and villages have settled in the new sectors of Ibadan for commercial and occupational reasons. Among them, the Ijebu people are the most numerous. The Ibadan and the Ijebu are neighboring Yoruba tribes; traditionally they were rivals and in

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recent years the historic antipathy between them has been revived by economic competition. In 1950 the indigene-settler conflict reached a climax over issues involving land ownership and local representation. T h e nonIbadan group formed a Native Settlers Union to press for the rights of settlers both to acquire landed property in Ibadan on a freehold basis and to stand for election to the Ibadan local government. These demands were supported by the pan-Yoruba tribal association. We have observed that in 1951 the Action Group triumphed in the Western election and became the Regional Government Party. It is pertinent to this discussion of Ibadan politics that the Action Group leader, an Ijebu Yoruba, was the General Secretary of the pan-Yoruba tribal union and a highly successful barrister, resident at Ibadan, where he was a legal adviser to the Native Settlers Union. Six Ibadan indigenes were elected to the Western House of Assembly on the platform of an Ibadan Peoples Party. Following the election, five of them declared for the Action Group and one was appointed as a Minister in the new Western Regional Government. The Ibadan chiefs and people reacted sharply. For several years the trend of events had run against their perceived interests; Ibadan chiefs had been shorn of their traditional prerogatives by a number of administrative reforms; acres of cocoa plants belonging to Ibadan farmers had been destroyed by the Government in a well-intentioned but costly and unpopular attempt to check the spread of a contagious blight; Ibadan lands were acquired by settlers who supported various objectionable reforms; and a settler personality had suddenly become the leader of the Government. In 1954 the single elected member who did not join the Action Group organized an Ibadan tribal party with the support of the chiefs and the leaders of an Ibadan farmers' movement. The new party, called the Mabolaje, w h i c h means in Yoruba, "[Do] not reduce the dignity of Chiefs," affiliated with the National Council of Nigeria and the Cameroons. Swiftly the Mabolaje established its supremacy in Ibadan; eventually its leader b e c a m e t h e F i r s t V i c e P r e s i d e n t of t h e N C N C and L e a d e r of the Opposition in the Western House of Assembly. Only a small minority of the indigenous rising class embraced the populist Mabolaje. The great majority of entrepreneurial, professional, and educated men of Ibadan gravitated to the Government Party. Furthermore, in 1955, an Action Group supporter was elevated to the head chiefship of Ibadan, whereupon most of the chiefs and aspirants to chieftaincy, who require the endorsement of the Head Chief for promotion or recognition by the Government, transferred their support from the party named in their honor to the party in power. As at Benin, the loss of the citadel of chieftaincy did not weaken the party of traditional value, and the dominance of the Mabolaje at Ibadan has been evinced at every election of recent years. At Benin and Ibadan, communal partisanship emerged as a reaction to the political drives of a rising class. In Benin the new class was wholly indigenous; in Ibadan it was mainly a settler class with an indigenous component. In

TRIBALISM IN THE WEST

19

both cases the outlook of the indigenous rising class was supratribal, which led it to embrace a political party that the people at large identified with interests which they regarded as being inimical to the values of their communal traditions. The tribal parties affiliated with a rival national party, in both cases the National Council of Nigeria and the Cameroons. They are properly termed tribal party affiliates because their respective memberships are confined to the indigenous communal groups of Benin and Ibadan. Nonindigenous supporters are considered to be partisans of the NCNC at Benin or the NCNC-Mabolaje Grand Alliance at Ibadan, but not of the Otu Edo or the Mabolaje per se. The ordinary follower or member of a tribal party in an area of traditional habitation is likely to regard it as an extension of the social order to which he is spiritually, sentimentally, and spontaneously attached. In his mind, and in the minds of others with whom he habitually associates, the party is endowed with the values of the traditional order. Partisanship of this nature is communal in the classical sense. 6 It implies the ideal of an integrated system of values involving the combination or synthesis of political, spiritual, and cultural values into a unified moral universe similar to the symbolic universe of traditional society. 7 Consequently, supporters of a communal membership party are apt to view opposition to that party by a member of the community with moral indignation and to punish it as antisocial conduct. Of course, the concept of communal partisanship does not correspond exactly to the psychology of any particular individual. It does not apply at all to the leadership of the tribal parties of Benin or Ibadan which was drawn primarily from the rising class, mainly from those populist and radically disposed individuals who rallied to the popular cause in principle or in consequence of a perceived advantage. The nature of their partisanship is properly termed associational rather than communal; it implies rational, deliberate affiliation without ritual significance in affirmation of a political belief or in pursuit of a personal goal. 8 Owing to the influence of radical leaders, communal participation parties have assimilated nationalistic principles within their codes of traditional values. A prime example is the Mabolaje of Ibadan, which was conservative with respect to administrative reform but radical with respect to political nationalism, i.e., the movement for independence. CONCLUSION In Western Nigeria most rising class elements in every tribal and nationality group are drawn by their interests into the fold of the party in power. By and large, ethnic affinities are outweighed by class interests, as at Ibadan where most of the indigenous rising class joined their social peers among the settlers within the Government Party. Prudent chiefs normally go along, since the Government Party controls the system of appointment and deposition. In 1958 only one member in 51 of the Western House Chiefs (a co-ordinate chamber of the Regional Legislature) was identified as a supporter of the

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O p p o s i t i o n Party, w h i l e 3 1 e l e c t e d m e m b e r s out of 80 in the H o u s e of Assembly belonged to the Opposition. 9 Furthermore, Nigerian chiefs in general are associated with the economic as well as the political interests of the rising class, and the number of chiefs in business is legion. Progressive chiefs and other culturally conscious members of the enlightened minority required an ideological nexus of their ethnic and class values that would supply a rationale for their nontraditional and supratribal interests. That need w a s admirably satisfied by the theory of pantribalism. Within its defined cultural sphere, pantribalism is cosmopolitan and consistent with the affirmation of nontraditional interests or the negation of traditional interests that obstruct the policies of the pantribal elite. Pantribalism, like Jewish Zionism, is innately secular, and produces a sense of "national" identity among peoples who are ethnically or tribally diverse but culturally related. The pantribal spirit w a s ardent in the breast of those who felt the most urgent need for unity beyond the parochial confines of their tribes. These were typically men of the rising class to whom the conditions of colonial rule were least tolerable. When their perspectives rise above the stage of ethnic "nationality," pantribalism may be expected to lose its class distinction and the magic of its political appeal. Communal partisanship is a social and psychological form of party-type tribal movement in areas of traditional habitation where the integral values of traditional society have not been transformed by the process of social change. In many c a s e s l o c a l parties b a s e d on c o m m u n a l partisanship have b e e n brought into existence deliberately by nationalists and rising class elements with the co-operation of chiefs. Occasionally, as at Benin and Ibadan, the emergence of communal partisanship has reflected the repudiation of a rising class by the people of a traditional community in transition where class structure is incipient and a lower class psychology has not evolved. Most chiefs have a leading foot in the rising class, especially if it supports a governing party, and they are likely to d i s a v o w communal parties that are associated with the Opposition. At Benin and Ibadan, the nature of conflict was class versus community, rather than modern elements versus traditional elements or higher c l a s s a g a i n s t lower c l a s s . 1 0 H o w e v e r , rising c l a s s e s herald the decline of old orders, and the transformation of classless communities into class societies is perceptible in the tendency of communal partisans to shed their traditional values and to adopt lower class perspectives. 1 1 T h r o u g h o u t N i g e r i a , millions of tradition-bound p e o p l e were d r a w n through the medium of communal partisanship into the mainstream of political activity where they accepted the leadership of progressive nationalists. Therein lies its historic significance. N o nationalist movement or political party could have achieved independence for Nigeria without the massive support of the people, especially the rural m a s s e s and those millions who live in traditional urban communities. The British Government would not, in principle, have agreed to transfer power to a leadership group that w a s not broadly

TRIBALISM IN THE WEST

21

b a s e d . O n the o t h e r h a n d , Britain c o u l d not, in p r i n c i p l e o r in fact, d e n y i n d e p e n d e n c e to p o p u l a r l y e l e c t e d l e a d e r s w h o e n j o y the c o n f i d e n c e o f a d e c i s i v e m a j o r i t y o f the p e o p l e a n d i n s i s t e d u p o n the t e r m i n a t i o n o f c o l o n i a l r u l e . C o m m u n a l p a r t i s a n s h i p , b a s e d o n p s y c h o l o g i c a l c o m m i t m e n t s t o the traditional v a l u e s o f tribal g r o u p s , w a s u t i l i z e d b y n a t i o n a l i s t l e a d e r s to m o b i l i z e m a s s s u p p o r t in rural areas a n d o l d t o w n s . T h e s e o b s e r v a t i o n s w i l l not restore t r i b a l i s m to g r a c e in A f r i c a . B u t the d e v i l d e s e r v e s h i s d u e ; and in N i g e r i a , at least, the c o n t r i b u t i o n o f tribalism to nationalism has b e e n crucial.

NOTES 1. T h e s e strictures w e r e applied to religious separatism as well as to tribalism. See the Resolution on Tribalism, Religious Separatism, and Traditional Institutions, adopted b y the A l l - A f r i c a n P e o p l e s C o n f e r e n c e held at A c c r a , G h a n a , D e c e m b e r 5 - 1 3 , 1958. 2. J a m e s S. C o l e m a n has defined the c o n c e p t s of " t r i b e " and "nationality" as follows: A tribe is "a relatively small g r o u p of people w h o share a c o m m o n culture and w h o are descended f r o m a c o m m o n ancestor. T h e tribe is the largest social g r o u p defined primarily in t e r m s of kinship, and is normally an aggregation of clans." " A nationality is the largest traditional A f r i c a n g r o u p a b o v e a tribe w h i c h can be distinguished f r o m other g r o u p s by one or m o r e objective criteria (normally l a n g u a g e ) . " Nigeria: Background to Nationalism (Berkeley and Los A n g e l e s 1958), 4 2 3 - 4 2 4 . 3. Oduduwa is a culture hero and mythical progenitor of the Yoruba people. T h e principal f o u n d e r of the Society, w h o later b e c a m e P r e m i e r of the Western R e g i o n and is now L e a d e r of the Opposition in the Federal G o v e r n m e n t , e x p o u n d e d a theory of nationalism based on pantribal integration u n d e r the auspices of educated elites. See O b a f e m i A w o l o w o , Path to Nigerian Freedom ( L o n d o n 1947). 4. T h e traditional Ogboni w a s a politico-religious institution in certain historic Yoruba states. See W. R. B a s c o m , " T h e Sociological Role of the Yoruba Cult G r o u p , " American Anthropologist, 56, 1, 2, 63 (January 1944), 6 4 - 7 3 ; and Saburi 0. Biobaku, The Egba and Their Neighbors, 1 8 4 2 - 1 8 7 2 ( O x f o r d 1957), 6. 5. Colonial O f f i c e , Report of the Commission appointed to enquire into the fears of Minorities and the means of allaying them ( L o n d o n 1958), 11. 6. Ferdinand Tonnies, Fundamental Concepts of Sociology (Gemeinschaft and Gesellschaft), translated and supplemented by Charles P. L o o m i s ( N e w York 1940), 37-39; 67-70. 7. Cf. M. Fortes and E. E. Evans-Pritchard, African Political Systems ( L o n d o n 1940), 1 6 - 1 8 . S. F. N a d e l d r e w attention to the cohesive value s y s t e m s of subtribal g r o u p s that w e find operative in the case of tribal parties. A Black Byzantium (London 1942), 2 2 - 2 6 . 8. M a u r i c e D u v e r g e r utilized the c o n c e p t s of C o m m u n i t y and A s s o c i a t i o n to distinguish b e t w e e n ideal types of participation. H e observed "... the nature of participation can b e very different according to the categories of m e m b e r s : especially does it s e e m probable that electors and m e m b e r s are not j o i n e d to the party b y links of the s a m e nature and that it is the C o m m u n i t y t y p e party that is predominant a m o n g electors, even in parties w h e r e m e m b e r s and militants b e l o n g rather to the A s s o c i a t i o n type." Political Parties ( L o n d o n 1954), 1 2 8 - 1 2 9 . D u v e r g e r ' s analysis of participation g o e s b e y o n d the p u r p o s e of this p a p e r to general theory of party classification. 9. M o s t chiefs are supporters and patrons of the G o v e r n m e n t Party rather than

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members in the technical sense. The fiction of their non-partisanship in theory is still respected on occasion by party leaders and chiefs alike. 10. Needless to say, party division never corresponds exactly to sociological differentiation, but it is significant if most of the rising class and most chiefs affiliate with a particular party in areas w h e r e popular sentiment is to the contrary. In this paper competition b e t w e e n rising class and c o m m u n a l m e m b e r s h i p parties is not regarded as a manifestation of class conflict inasmuch as the tribal societies involved are not s t r u c t u r e d in t e r m s of class. A n t h r o p o l o g i c a l studies of t h e m generally describe communal societies of a corporate nature, segmented vertically by lineages and stratified by age grades and title associations. Chieftaincies may be vested in particular families; but the families of kings, chiefs, elders, and titled men have not been differentiated in terms of social class. 11. This kind of change in perspective is evident at Ibadan and elsewhere, as at Enugu in the Eastern Region, where many of the communal partisans are employed as industrial laborers. In the Emirate states of Northern Nigeria, class structures are traditional and the class factor is fundamental to the analysis of competition between parties in that section. Rising classes in Northern Nigeria emerge within an existing class structure which they alter; rising classes in the part of Nigeria with which this paper is concerned e m e r g e f r o m classless communities which they transform into class societies. Since the new classes do not rise relative to other classes it might be preferable to term them emerging or emergent classes.

Political Parties and National Integration in Nigeria Richard L. Sklar

•

C. S. Whitaker

INTRODUCTION T h e Federal Republic of Nigeria comprises some 35 million people in three p r i n c i p a l p o l i t i c a l u n i t s , the N o r t h e r n , E a s t e r n , a n d W e s t e r n r e g i o n s . Government in each region is patterned after the Westminster parliamentary model, including a bicameral legislature and an executive council (cabinet) headed by a premier. There are three m a j o r political parties, each in control of a regional government. The Northern Region alone contains 54 per cent of the Nigerian population, and the Northern Peoples' Congress (NPC), which controls the regional government, held a plurality of 45.5 per cent of the seats in the federal House of Representatives w h e n Nigeria attained independence on October 1, 1960. T h e government of the federation is formed by a coalition of the N P C and the second-largest party in the House of Representatives, the National Convention of Nigerian Citizens ( N C N C ; formerly the National Council of Nigeria and the C a m e r o o n s ) , under the leadership of an N P C p r i m e minister. T h e N C N C also c o n t r o l s the g o v e r n m e n t of the Eastern Region, and shares p o w e r in the Western Region; it operates in the north through an ally, the Northern E l e m e n t s ' Progressive Union (NEPU). The federal opposition is provided by the Action Group of Nigeria (AG), which controls the government of the Western Region and f o r m s the official opposition in both the Northern and Eastern regions. (For recent changes in Nigeria's political configuration, see postscript.) It has been observed that each of the three regions has a dual cultural make-up: a preponderant majority of culturally related tribes speaking the same language, and a heterogeneous group of cultural-linguistic minorities. 1 T h e three major cultural groups—the Hausa-Fulani in the north, the Ibo people in the east, and the Yoruba people in the w e s t — h a v e divergent histories and t r a d i t i o n s , i n c l u d i n g d i s s i m i l a r t r a d i t i o n s of p o l i t i c a l o r g a n i z a t i o n . Diversity among and within the regions is reinforced by religious heterogeneity and variations in levels of Western education, standards of living, and Reprinted from James S. Coleman and Carl G. Rösberg, Jr. (eds.), Political Parties and National Integration in Tropical Africa (Berkeley and Los Angeles 1964), 597-654. Reprinted by permission of the authors and the University of California Press.

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degrees of modernization. This pattern of social and cultural pluralism has helped shape the character of the major political parties and has stimulated intense party competition. It is important to observe further that the underlying conditions of political development in the two southern regions have differed substantially from those obtaining in the north. Succinctly, political parties in the Eastern and Western regions of southern Nigeria were introduced into an atmosphere of pervasive social and economic change. By contrast, political parties in the Northern Region have emerged in an environment characterized by a relatively high degree of social, economic, and political continuity. Traditional norms of behavior and institutions affect politics to some degree in all the regions, as will be seen. But the decisive contrast between basic structural change in the south and basic structural continuity in the north governs the analysis of political parties presented in this paper. Origins of the NCNC and the Action

Group

In 1923 a restricted number of taxpayers in the seacoast colony of Lagos were given the right to elect three representatives to the Nigerian Legislative Council. This innovation induced the "father of Nigerian nationalism," Herbert Macaulay, civil engineer, surveyor, and journalist, to organize the Nigerian National Democratic Party. Under his guidance the party espoused the cause of African freedom; indeed, its president, barrister Joseph EgertonShyngle, was a founder of the interterritorial National Congress of British West Africa at Accra in 1920. In practice, however, the energies of the Democratic Party were expended on parochial issues of local politics in Lagos, and the party came to be regarded by the nationalistic youth of prewar Nigeria as a mere electoral machine lacking serious ideological direction. In 1938 the elective seats of Lagos in the Legislative Council were captured by a new party, the Nigerian Youth Movement, led by a self-conscious ethnosocial elite of Yoruba-speaking heritage, prominently represented in the professional and entrepreneurial spheres of Lagos society. Most members of this elite were Western-educated, Christian, and first- or second-generation settlers in the town. In contrast, the indigenous Yoruba-speaking masses of Lagos were overwhelmingly Muslim and strongly committed to traditional values. Traditional leaders won the loyalty of the vast majority of Lagos indigenes for the Democratic Party. In Lagos, the Nigerian Youth Movement derived its popular support f r o m a nonindigenous working class of both Yoruba and non-Yoruba descent. Ibo-speaking people f r o m the Eastern Region formed the largest single non-Yoruba cultural group. Their allegiance to the Youth Movement was inspired by their most prominent compatriot, Nnamdi Azikiwe, editor and publisher of a nationalistic daily newspaper, the West African Pilot. In 1941 Azikiwe broke with the Youth Movement, 2 carrying with him the support of many nonindigenous Yorubas in addition to the Ibo settlers of

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Lagos. In 1944 the Nigerian Union of Students, whose members were nationalistic youths of diverse ethnic origins, persuaded Azikiwe to join with Herbert Macaulay in the formation of a national front, which became the National Council of Nigeria and the Cameroons. Although all existing nationalistic associations, including tribal unions, trade unions, professional groups, and political parties, were invited to join, the Nigerian Youth Movement resolved to remain aloof. Soon the nationalist initiative passed from the Youth Movement to the more aggressive and more broadly representative NCNC. Within a year of its inauguration, the NCNC embarked upon a campaign to compel the revision of a postwar constitution which was repudiated by nationalists for its failure to provide democratic representation and responsible government. Leaders of the NCNC toured Nigeria, enlisting support for a delegation of protest to the Colonial Office in London. Early in the tour Herbert Macaulay died; subsequently Azikiwe succeeded to the presidency of the NCNC, and led the delegation to London. Thereafter the militancy of the NCNC was overtaken by an official colonial policy of constitutional reform. As frustrations over constitutional advance were temporarily assuaged, debilitating tribal antagonisms were injected into the political conflict between Azikiwe and his opponents in Lagos. A desire to revive the nationalistic vigor of the NCNC led youthful militants to launch a new organization devoted to "positive action," which they called the Zikist Movement. 3 The strategies of civil disobedience advocated by the Zikists, however, were incompatible with the political tactics favored by Azikiwe, after whom the movement was named. With irony Zikists reflected, some of them in prison, that Azikiwe, whose teaching on the redemption of Africa had inspired Zikism, refused to abet their revolutionary exploits. Azikiwe, like other mass party leaders in Nigeria, seized the opportunity to win political power through a system of party competition engendered by the introduction of electoral reforms. The Constitution of 1951 provided for indirect elections to three regional houses of assembly, each of which was empowered to choose from among its membership a stipulated number to the central House of Representatives. Lagos was placed under the jurisdiction of the Western Region, enabling Azikiwe's opponents to offset his strength in Lagos by mobilizing support among the Yoruba peasantry in rural areas of that region. To organize the peasantry, it was necessary for the educated elite to enlist the cooperation of the Yoruba chiefs. The key instrument of collaboration was a cultural organization, inaugurated in 1948, called the Egbe Omo Oduduwa ("Society of the Descendants of Oduduwa," the mythical progenitor and culture hero of the Yoruba people). The principal political objectives of the Egbe were to bring together the new elites of Yoruba nationality and to educate the Yoruba chiefs in the ways of democracy. But the Egbe's membership was sufficiently conservative to be

26

CLASS & CULTURE IN NIGERIA

thought incapable of formulating the kind of political program desired by its more energetic and radical wing. 4 Under the leadership of a young barrister, Obafemi Awolowo, the vanguard of the Egbe organized a new political party, the Action Group. Encouraged by the Action Group, prominent settlers in Lagos and Ibadan returned to their home villages and towns, presented themselves to the chiefs, and entered the electoral contest for the Western House of Assembly. All five seats in Lagos were won by NCNC candidates, including one by Azikiwe, but the Action Group won an overall majority in the Western Region, entitling Awolowo to head the regional government. Meanwhile, in the Eastern Region, an NCNC government was formed by political lieutenants of Azikiwe, who was himself included in the Western House of Assembly as an unofficial leader of the opposition. The Action Group and the NCNC since 1951 Few developments have been so conducive to the rise of a national party system in Nigeria as the transformation of the Action Group from a Western Regional organization based mainly on the Yoruba people to a transregional party of multicultural composition. This development was fostered mainly by the radical wing of the party, which has consistently taken a federationist position in Nigerian constitutional controversies. In the early 1950s the federationists had to contend with the opinions of those who favored maximum regional autonomy, among whom conservative businessmen were conspicuous. The evolution of Action Group organization reflects the resolution of this conflict. Shortly after the formation of the first AG government in the Western Region, radical elements pressed successfully to enforce the authority of the Central Executive Committee over the party's parliamentary council. In 1953 a radical member of the Executive Committee, in pursuance of a resolution adopted by the preceding annual conference of the party, filed a motion in the central House of Representatives calling for national self-government in three years, without consulting the parliamentary council. The Action Group as a party supported the motion, despite the reluctance of its conservative wing. But the northern representatives, who occupied 50 per cent of the seats in the House, rejected the motion. The result was a constitutional crisis and a temporary alliance between the Action Group and its rival, the NCNC. An ensuing all-party conference in London (1953) reconstituted the essentially unitary government of Nigeria as a genuine federation, vesting residual powers in the regions. Furthermore, it was decided that national independence would be achieved through preparatory stages of regional selfgovernment. At the Action Group annual conference of 1953, federationists consolidated their control of the party organization, thereby diminishing the influence of an irregular clique that had previously provided greater leverage for business elements in Lagos. Thereafter the party launched its program of expansion into the other regions.

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27

The emergence of the Action Group as a mass organization, with an enlarged territorial scope, required the establishment of a highly centralized and efficient secretariat to facilitate control by the leadership. At the same time Chief Awolowo developed a method of arriving at policies through extensive deliberation and wide consultation. After 1955 leaders and influential supporters of the party, including chiefs, businessmen, and local notables, gathered regularly on an informal basis at Awolowo's home in Ikenne to air opinions and project long-term strategies. A concrete manifestation of the p a r t y ' s collegial m e t h o d of l e a d e r s h i p w a s the decision in 1957 of its Executive Council to participate in a national government over the objection of Awolowo, who felt that collaboration with the NPC and the N C N C at the federal level would undermine the Action Group's posture of opposition in the north and the east. In 1959, in accordance with party policy, Awolowo resigned his premiership in the Western Regional government to contest the federal election. Subsequently he became the leader of the opposition in the federal House of Representatives, and Chief Samuel L. Akintola, deputy leader of the party, succeeded to the premiership of the Western Region. Whereas the Action Group evolved from a narrowly based party into a mass organization, the N C N C , beginning with the election of 1951, has undergone a transformation from a national front of affiliated groups into a political party in the stricter sense. 5 After that election the Pan-Nigerian N C N C was strained internally by resistance to the efforts of its president, Azikiwe, to assert the authority of the national organization over independ e n t - m i n d e d N C N C m i n i s t e r s in the eastern and central g o v e r n m e n t s . Ultimately the ministers were expelled from the party for insubordination, and the Eastern House of Assembly, in a state of virtual paralysis, was dissolved. A z i k i w e ' s assumption of the premiership of a reconstituted Eastern Regional government in 1954 was of great consequence for the organization of the party. After the Constitutional Conference of 1953, it was obvious that the leaders of the Action Group and the Northern Peoples' Congress would become the first premiers of the Western and Northern regions, respectively. But a n t i r e g i o n a l i s m w a s a cardinal tenet of N C N C policy. T h e p a r t y ' s staunch advocates of unitary government, in particular, were anxious that its national president, Azikiwe, not take office in a region where he would preside over the affairs of his own cultural nationality, the Ibo-speaking people. Yet political power under the new constitution inhered mainly in the regional governments, and no provision had been made for a federal prime minister. It was therefore argued that Azikiwe should have equal status with his counterparts and assume direction of the only government subject to the N C N C ' s control. These considerations prevailed, and the political center of gravity in the N C N C shifted to the east, while central direction of the party organization as a whole lapsed seriously. As central control waned, the party came to rely increasingly on a system of regional working committees. In the Western

28

CLASS & C U L T U R E I N

NIGERIA

Region, the system, making maximum use of zonal leaders, countenanced extreme local autonomy and failed to provide effective coordination. In the Eastern Region, conflicts over local issues became commonplace. In 1956-1957 the party experienced an epic crisis which stemmed from the investment and deposit of public funds in the African Continental Bank, a private institution which Azikiwe had acquired in 1944 to finance his nationalistic press. In keeping with settled policies of the party, public funds were injected into the bank to enable it to extend credit to African businessmen. But Azikiwe's opponents objected strenuously to the fact that his was the main private interest in the bank at the time of investment, an issue of some complexity which cannot be explored here. The Secretary of State for the Colonies appointed a tribunal of inquiry, some of whose findings were unfavorable to the eastern Premier. The NCNC, however, viewed the case as a conflict between indigenous and foreign banking. On that issue the eastern government resigned, and successfully sought its vindication at the polls. The events of this tumultuous period sowed seeds of discord and provoked expressions of discontent with NCNC management in high party circles. At the annual convention of 1957, Azikiwe declared that drastic reforms were required to restore discipline in the party. He obtained the right to appoint the national officers of the party subject to the approval of the annual convention; this marked a return to the cabinet system of party management which had been abandoned in 1951. Eight months of further intraparty turmoil ensued in the Eastern and Western regions, culminating in the emergence of a reform committee in June, 1958, which demanded the resignation of Azikiwe as NCNC president and premier of the Eastern Region. But Azikiwe was upheld by the majority of the National Executive Committee and by the people of the Eastern Region, the latter through public rallies, voluntary associations, and local councils. Radical members of the party regarded the outcome of the crisis as a stroke for centralization and a substantial setback for the conservative, arriviste, and business-minded social elite. In 1959 Azikiwe, like Awolowo, contested and won election to the federal House of Representatives. Upon the formation of the NPC-NCNC coalition government under Alhaji Sir Abubakar Tafawa Balewa, the federal prime minister, Azikiwe surrendered his seat and became president of the Nigerian Senate. Subsequently he resigned the presidency of the NCNC in order to accept appointment as the governor-general of Nigeria, the nominal head of state. His colleague of many years' standing, Dr. Michael I. Okpara, the new premier of the Eastern Region, was elected to the presidency of the party. When, in 1961, the people of the Southern Cameroons Trust Territory chose to terminate their association with Nigeria and to join the neighboring Cameroun Republic, the NCNC was renamed the National Convention of Nigerian Citizens. Both the NCNC and the Action Group were bom of circumstances that unite patriotic men and women irrespective of their social status or ideological

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conviction. Each party is rooted in a primary region where many of the administrative and economic spoils of office are distributed among members and supporters. Social and ideological intraparty cleavages inevitably result. By and large, the vested interests in Nigeria are attached to regional power. The leveling spirit is antiregionalist, and criticisms directed against the federal government imply that it is the instrument of predominately regionalistic, hence monied, interests. 6 Predictably, these criticisms were echoed by the federal opposition. By 1962 the Action Group had developed a flagrantly split personality. As an opposition party in the federal parliament, it championed the radical point of view in debates on domestic and foreign policy; as a government party in the Western Region, it was identified with indulgence toward the social and political status quo. An irreparable breach occurred when the Federal Executive Council of the party, under the leadership of Awolowo, requested Akintola to resign his premiership of the Western Region. Akintola resisted, but the governor of the Western Region was persuaded to take action against him which, however, was ultimately held unconstitutional by the federal Supreme Court. He dismissed the Premier, designating as his replacement Alhaji D. S. Adegbenro, a supporter of A w o l o w o . T h e r e ensued a disturbance on the floor of the Western House of Assembly. The federal government reacted swiftly; a state of e m e r g e n c y w a s declared in the west and a federal administrator was appointed to govern the region pending new elections. Meanwhile a federal commission of inquiry undertook an investigation of the post-1954 administrative and financial practices of the regional government. The Action Group's plight in 1962 was reminiscent of previous crises in the development of the NCNC. It will be recalled that in 1953 the N C N C was rent by the refusal of its eastern parliamentary leadership to accept central party direction. Nine years later a clash between Awolowo and his successor as premier of the West, Akintola, cast a shadow over the Action Group's future as a major political party. In 1956 the president of the N C N C had been compelled by his political opponents and the British Colonial Secretary to bear a searching examination of his personal (but politically significant) financial relationships. Ultimately, Azikiwe's cause was sustained by popular belief in his devotion to Nigerian freedom and his sagacity in pursuit of that goal. Similarly, A w o l o w o ' s best hope in the hour of his ordeal was the prospect that public opinion might identify his cause with another momentous issue—social justice. Origins of the NPC and the NEPU Nationalistic political c o n s c i o u s n e s s in the Northern Region of Nigeria received its first organized expression with the inauguration in 1939 of the College Old Boys' Association at Kaduna. These graduates of Kaduna College, the only existing secondary school in the north, and its predecessor, the Katsina Teachers Training College, were in some ways the social equivalents of the

30

CLASS & CULTURE IN NIGERIA

elite groups that formed the early parties of Lagos and their successors. Like the Western-educated southern elites, the College Old Boys were destined to assert claims of leadership based on their command of skills relevant to a political economy in the process of modernization. In 1939, however, the situation in the north was unfavorable to the appearance of political parties. The elective principle had not been introduced and the Northern P r o v i n c e s were not yet represented in the Nigerian Legislative Council. Equally inhibiting was the authoritarian political tradition of the Hausa-Fulani emirates, traditional units of government which survive today and encompass roughly two-thirds of the northern population. These vigorous states had been deliberately preserved by the colonial government, in keeping with its doctrine that African political development should proceed, sui generis, from indigenous tradition. Any political activity on the part of educated and consciously "enlightened" young men based on nontraditional principles was bound to be viewed suspiciously by British officials and emirs alike. The College Old Boys, nearly all of them employees either of the colonial government or of native administrations under control of the emirs, faced hostility from both quarters. Within two years of its inauguration, the association was moribund. It is pertinent to note that Kaduna College and its predecessors had been established by the British primarily for purposes of educating the traditional ruling class of the emirates. In terms of social background, therefore, most of the old boys were members of the traditional as well as of the "modern" elite; indeed, even today these two elites mostly coincide in the northern emirates. Although there were radicals in this group, the majority of them sought only limited reform which would accommodate their special talents without undermining the position of the traditional ruling stratum as a whole. This conservative impulse characterized all the later northern political organizations which traced their ancestry to the association. After the demise of the College Old Boys' Association, its objectives were pursued by former members in discussion groups established in various northern towns. The groups that displayed prudence and moderation were tolerated by the native authorities and the British, who nevertheless watched their activities closely. Groups that fell under the influence of radical northerners fared less well. The Zaria Friendly Society, for example, was disbanded when its founder, the noted nationalist figure and koranic scholar, Sa'adu Zungur, used its platform to attack the system of native administration. Similarly, official recognition was withdrawn from the Bauchi Discussion Circle when the salaries of the British resident and the emir were discussed in the presence of both. Later, other ostensibly nonpolitical organizations served as centers of political deliberation. For example, the first convention of the Northern Teachers' Association, founded in 1948, was devoted more to matters of politics than to strictly occupational concerns. The continuing ferment among the "old boys" elite, evidenced by the

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recurrent appearance of these quasi-political groups, crystallized in the fall of 1948. Dr. R. A. B. Dikko, then the only government medical officer of northern origin, and Mallam D. A. Rafih, an official of the Nigerian Railways, both called meetings of interested individuals at their homes on September 28, in Zaria and Kaduna, respectively, with the intention of forming a new region-wide political organization in the north. Each was apparently unaware of the other's effort, and two separate groups were organized. The one at Kaduna, inaugurated on October 3, adopted the name Jam'iyyar Mutanen Arewa A Yau (Association of Northern People of Today), and the Zaria group assumed the name Jam'iyyar Jaman Arewa (whose nonliteral English name was Northern Nigerian Congress). At a second meeting in Zaria, the two organizations merged into the Jam'iyyar Mutanen Arewa (now rendered in English as the Northern Peoples' Congress). Key individuals throughout the north were recruited to set up local branches. Surviving discussion groups at Sokoto, Kano, and Bauchi were among the organizations transformed into local affiliates of the Northern People's Congress. At this time the NPC described itself as a "social and cultural organization," a guise it was considered prudent to adopt because nearly all its members were government or native authority employees for whom political activity was proscribed or discouraged. But the pursuit of progressive political reforms was implicit in the N P C ' s declaration of intention: yakin jahilci, lalaci, da zalunci (to war against ignorance, idleness, and oppression) in the north. A small group of progressive-minded young men in Kano were less cautious. In February, 1947, they organized the Northern Elements' Progressive Association (NEPA) for the avowed purpose of defending the public interest b e f o r e the authorities. It is n o t e w o r t h y that the f o u n d e r s of the NEPA, although educated, were in the second rank of official employment (mostly clerks), or were similarly engaged by private commercial firms. A son of the Emir of Kano was a secret member, but none of the others enjoyed high traditional status. Old boys were scarce among their number, and a few members came from outside the geographical area of the emirate system. Moreover, whereas the NPC restricted its membership to people of northern origin and had as one of its o b j e c t s "to prevent southern d o m i n a t i o n , " the NEPA, encouraged by Azikiwe and other southern nationalists, worked closely with local adherents of the NCNC. Details of organization and program were also treated secretively, but its chosen Arabic motto did not hide the NEPA's boldness (man lam yakhful laha, yakhafu kulla sha'in / man yakhful lah kullu, sha'in yakhafahu, roughly translated as "He who does not fear God fears everybody, but he who fears God is to be feared by some"). The innuendo was not mistaken by the authorities; important NEPA members were abruptly dismissed from their posts in Kano, and the organization folded. The first overt and viable political party in the north, the Northern Elements' Progressive Union (NEPU), was founded in Kano on August 8, 1950, by eight young people, mostly Hausa c o m m o n e r s . T h e n a m e was

32

CLASS & CULTURE IN NIGERIA

suggested by one of the party's early members who thought the implied affinity with the NEPA was justified by the revolutionary ideology that inspired the new group. The Declaration of Principles issued in October, 1950, bluntly proclaimed the existence of "a class struggle, between the members of that vicious circle of the Native Administrations on the one hand and the ordinary 'talakawa' commoners on the other," and announced the N E P U ' s dedication to the "emancipation of the talakawa from domination by these privileged few 'through' reform of the present autocratic political institutions." The president of a Kano organization called the Taron Masu Zumunta (Friendly Society), Mallam Abba Maikwaru, was elected president of the NEPU, and he brought members of the former group with him into the new party. Several prominent members of the NEPU simultaneously belonged to the NPC, holding that the latter's formal nonpolitical status justified dual membership. The showdown between the radical and conservative elements in the northern political a w a k e n i n g came at the Jos convention of the N P C in December, 1950, which proscribed dual membership in the NEPU and the NPC and insisted upon the elimination of radical elements from the NPC executive. NEPU adherents within the Kano delegation countered with a proposal to convert the NPC into a political party. The rejection of this proposal marked the final break between the two factions. Soon thereafter, Mallam Aminu Kano, a young teacher in Sokoto, resigned his position, returned to Kano, and joined the NEPU. A strongly worded statement left no doubt that he considered his new role to be militant leadership of a radical political movement. 7 In April, 1951, he was elected vice-president of the party, and early in 1953 he was elevated to the presidency. The NPC and the NEPU since 1951 Electoral regulations under the 1951 Constitution provided for a series of indirect "tier" elections to the Northern House of Assembly, extending from village and ward units up to the final stage of provincial colleges. Native authorities were given the right "to inject" into the final electoral college 10 per cent of the number reaching that stage through the series of protracted elections at lower levels. This compromise marriage between democratic representation and traditional authority was to produce curious, but significant, results. At the primary and intermediate stages of the elections in Kano City, Jos, Kaduna, Maiduguri, and Kabba, victories were registered for candidates standing on the platform of the N E P U . In an editorial, the editor of the Nigerian Citizen, who was also an officer of the NPC, raised the alarm that this revolutionary party might actually capture control of the Northern House of Assembly. 8 Hastily, certain Executive Committee members met and decided to convert the N P C into a political party as of October 1, 1951. They declared the new status of the party in a published announcement which suggested the party's intention to act as a progressive but moderate counterweight

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to the NEPU. This step was taken too late to permit the party, as such, to present candidates. But the device of 10 per cent "injection," plus the susceptibility of the electoral college arrangement to outside manipulation, allowed the native authorities to rally their supporters in the final stage. No NEPU candidates survived the provincial colleges; rather, candidates identified with native authorities were elected to all parliamentary seats in all but a few provinces, notwithstanding the fact that many of them had lost to NEPU opponents in earlier phases of the election. Subsequently, the overwhelming majority of elected members in the Northern House of Assembly declared for the NPC. 9 These events ultimately transformed the structure of the NPC. When it declared its new status as a formal political party, the government invoked a standing order proscribing participation in politics by civil servants (some of whom had been radical or reform-minded members of the NPC). This action compelled civil servants to resign from the party, whereas no such restriction was placed on native authority officials. The net result was that a rump, composed e s s e n t i a l l y of native authority officials and a f e w wealthy, selfemployed merchant-traders, was left in control of the party. In the newly elected House of Assembly, the same group predominated. It has previously been intimated that almost all the high officials and most of the other employees of the native administrations were either well born or patrician by virtue of a close connection (by marriage or clientage) with hereditary rulers, and that they tended to be fundamentally sympathetic to the traditional social and political order, even if they sought to modify it. Thus the stage was now set for a subtle but emphatic shift in the locus of party power, from a congress of moderate progressives primarily concerned with reform to a parliamentary caucus equally interested in the defense of traditional authority and in traditional definitions of prestige. The impending new balance between traditionalists and modernists was personified in 1951 by the belated but dramatic entry into the party of two men: Alhaji Ahmadu, Sardauna of S o k o t o and direct descendant of the founder of the Fulani empire, w h o eventually became president of the N P C and premier of the Northern Region, and Abubakar Tafawa Balewa, a lowborn but highly successful modern schoolteacher, now first vice-president of the N P C and prime minister of the federation. Once the new balance was struck, it tended to be self-perpetuating. Some native authority officials now occupied a dual role as local administrative subaltern in a traditional bureaucracy and politician in a modern elective parliament. Given the political influence of emirs and other traditional notables on the one hand, and their command of the local native bureaucracies on the other, these roles became interdependent. Consequently, one of the rewards for loyalty and service to one's superior in the context of the local administrative bureaucracy was the support of that superior in one's candidacy for elective office. Conversely, one's adherence to the cause of traditional institutions in the context of this new regional legislative body enhanced one's security

34

CLASS & C U L T U R E IN

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and prospects for advancement within the local bureaucracy. And it follows, quite obviously, that disloyalty in either context was punishable in the other. The altered direction of the N P C was reflected in organizational developments. To facilitate the assertion of authority by the parliamentary over the extraparliamentary party, the central secretariat was moved to Kaduna (the northern capital), where it could more easily be controlled by government ministers. At the local level of organization, the party machinery became fused with the administrative apparatus of the traditional native authorities. Successive constitutional reforms after 1951 required the N P C to contest ever more democratically organized elections; the last two (in 1959 and 1961) used the methods of adult male suffrage, direct voting, and secret balloting. Yet the ideological charter of the party, its organizational structure, and the social composition of its leadership have all remained remarkably intact. The development of a competitive party system had an important, if less readily visible, impact on the NEPU. The party realized after its experience in the 1951 elections that it faced the task of nurturing a revolutionary movement in soil saturated by well-entrenched traditional institutions. It seemed unlikely that a largely peasant population, less than 15 per cent of whom are literate and most of whom are wed to traditional assumptions and expectations regarding traditional authority, would immediately respond to expressions of democratic radicalism. Thus it is not surprising that the N E P U ' s electoral successes have been largely confined to towns. The N E P U ' s response to these obstacles to the development of a radical mass political party has entailed two significant steps. First, in 1954 the party concluded an alliance with the N C N C which has provided, especially in the 1959 elections, organizational and financial support. (Alliance with a southern party was also consistent with N E P U ' s advocacy of unitary government for Nigeria.) Second, it has attempted in the key area of the Hausa-Fulani state system to translate the party's appeal into terms comprehensible to the peasantry through traditional history, values, and susceptibilities. T h e NEPU, particularly as it operates in the key emirates of Sokoto, Kano, Katsina, and Zaria, has sought to interpret the meaning of Westerninspired ideas of democracy and egalitarianism in terms of the historic, traditional conflict of interest between the majority of conquered indigenous people of the emirates (the Habe, a Fulani word for the original, non-Fulani inhabitants of the emirates) and their overlords (the Fulani), and through the classic social division between the sarakuna (ruling class) and the talakawa (commoner class). By astutely making use of traditional themes, the NEPU has served as a focus of political and social protest, and has acted as a gadfly to the NPC. By retaining a high degree of organizational centralization and discipline, the NEPU has tried to ensure that the invocation of traditional tensions and sentiments for electoral purposes does not interfere unduly with the party's primary purpose of articulating a program of social and political modernization. Independent organizational support f r o m the N C N C has

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helped the NEPU to exercise control in these delicate circumstances, while the alliance between the two parties has also given the NEPU a far more significant role in national politics than its electoral strength alone would have provided. The United Middle Belt Congress In the decade 1950-1960, a third major northern political party emerged in the southern half of the Northern Region—known variously as the "Middle Belt," the "riverain provinces," or the "lower north"—an area inhabited by multifarious ethnic groups whose numbers total about one-third of the region's population. Together, these numerous groups of the lower north also constitute a cultural and social minority vis-à-vis the peoples of the HausaFulani states system of the "upper north" in that they are predominately nonMuslim (i.e., animist and Christian) and natively non-Hausa-speaking peoples; most of them have histories and traditions that favor small-scale or highly decentralized, parademocratic forms of political organization. The devolution of constitutional power to regional units stimulated the rise of a political movement to secure for the northern minorities a separate state or region in which they would not be numerically or culturally dominated by the majority people of the upper north. Middle Belt separatism took organizational form in 1945 when a former Catholic seminary student, Patrick Dokotri, founded the Birom Progressive Union which espoused the idea of a Middle Belt state. A few prominent Christian leaders, including Dokotri, later organized the Northern NonMuslim League, but in 1950 changed its name to Middle Zone League (MZL) in order to emphasize the goal of a separate region and to disclaim any intention of fostering religio-political conflict. After 1953 the movement was seriously hampered from within by ethnic particularism, inconsistency and division among its leadership over fundamentals of tactics, and organizational factionalism. Briefly, one group composed primarily of the originators of the MZL has tended to favor cooperation with the NPC, hoping thereby ultimately to change the NPC's declared policy of "one North, one people, regardless of rank, tribe, or religion." Other leaders have preferred outright opposition to the NPC and alliance with southern nationalist parties. Each faction has relied on different ethnic groups for its organizational base. Conflict between the two positions has been reflected in splintering, amalgamation, and resplintering of various wings of the movement. A breakaway organization called the Middle Belt Peoples' Party was formed after the MZL negotiated an alliance with the NPC. The two groups came together again in 1955 under the name United Middle Belt Congress (UMBC), but split into two factions within a year. Temporary unity was again achieved in 1956 when all factions decided to break the connection with the NPC, but dissension arose once more when a majority segment of the party ratified an alliance with the Action Group in 1958 over the strong objections of certain

36

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leaders (some of w h o m , including former leaders of the Middle Belt People's Party, subsequently joined the NPC). The Middle Belt State m o v e m e n t has suffered in that the majority of the peoples of the lower north s e e m e d not to see in separatism a solution to minority problems. Rather, they have regarded accommodation to, or even assimilation with, the forces represented by the N P C as offering more security and better opportunity, an attitude deliberately encouraged by the northern government. Yet the electoral strength of the movement for a time increased steadily, o w i n g to the persistent and deep-seated apprehensions of certain important groups (e.g., the populous Tiv of Benue Province). In 1959 m e m bers of the United Middle Belt Congress, under the presidency of J. S. Tarka of Tiv Division, contested the federal election as official Action Group candidates, and w o n in t w e n t y - s i x c o n s t i t u e n c i e s in the lower north. T h u s the Action Group became the largest opposition party in the Northern Region. By 1959 the U M B C , like separatist m o v e m e n t s in the Eastern Region, w a s functioning as an integral part of the Action Group. Between 1959 and 1961 the strength of the Action Group in the Middle Belt sharply declined, and the party won in only nine northern constituencies, mostly in Tivland, in the 1961 regional election. The resulting distribution of power w a s attributable to the magnetic attraction evidently being exerted on traditionally alien minorities by governmental power in the hands of the Hausa-Fulani majority, and to the tenacity of the historically independent-minded Tiv people in the face of this attraction. In 1963 the U M B C broke away from the Action Group and combined with the N E P U (renamed the Nigerian Elements' Progressive Union) to form a new opposition alliance, the Northern Progressive Front. PATTERNS OF LEADERSHIP Social

Background

Tables 3.1 and 3.3 present comparatively the factors of social background for the principal leaders of the m a j o r parties. It is seen that the top leadership groups of all parties reflect their primary ethnic foundations. The largest single ethnic group in the N P C is Fulani, although the extreme ethnic heterogeneity of the Northern Region, including emirate areas, is reflected in the composition of the party leadership. N E P U leadership is o v e r w h e l m i n g l y Habe, a l t h o u g h s o m e F u l a n i a n d o t h e r s are r e p r e s e n t e d . D e s p i t e the widespread expansion of the Action Group into minority areas of the Eastern and Northern regions, the ethnic core of its leadership is essentially Yoruba. 1 0 The N C N C seems to be the most cosmopolitan party, at least with respect to the ethnic groups of southern Nigeria, an impression corroborated by the fact that seven of the ten N C N C federal ministers in October, 1960, were non-Ibo, and four of them were Yoruba. T h e r e l i g i o u s a f f i l i a t i o n of l e a d e r s is a f a c t o r of s o m e p o l i t i c a l

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ì

T A B L E 3 . 2 Occupational Distribution of Major Party Leaders, Nigeria (percentages)

Educators

Businessmen (finance and entrepreneurship)

Business managers, retired senior civil servants, and administrative functionaries of the northern native authorities

19.7

28.2

5.6

18.2

21.2

1.5

1.4

6.7

25.7

63.5

3.1

3.1

17.2

20.3

Professionals (law, medicine, and the learned professions)

NCNCa

26.8

Action Group''

33.3

Party

NPCC NEPUd a

Notes: See note a, Table 3.1. b See note b, Table 3.1. Data unavailable for 3 percent of the total. c See note c, Table 3.1. ''See note d, Table 3.1. Data unavailable for 7.9 percent of the total.

T A B L E 3.3 Religious Distribution of Major Party Leaders, Nigeria (percentages) Party

Christian

Muslim

NCNO

91.5

8.5

Unknown 0.0

Action Group b

75.6

7.5

18.2 e

NPC C

12.2

86.5

1.3

NEPUd

6.2

90.6

3.2

Notes: a See note a, Table 3.1. b See note b, Table 3.1. c See note c, Table 3.1. d See note d, Table 3.1. e All but one member of this group were northern residents of Yoruba, Ibo, or Idoma ethnic origin, who were probably Christians.

consequence in all parties (see table 3.3). Prior to the 1957 elections Catholic leaders were known to have felt that their church interests were underrepresented in the eastern government. Unlike the Eastern Region, where f e w Muslims are found, the Western Region has almost equal numbers of Muslim and Christian adherents in its Yoruba areas; yet the overwhelming majority of Action Group leaders have been Christian. (This trend is largely owing to the historic connections among Christian penetration, Western education, and nationalist political activity.) Muslim predominance in the N P C and the NEPU stems not only from the numerical preponderance of Muslims in the Northern Region, but also from the parties' close relationship to the emirate system. All parties have taken steps to correct these politically exploitable imbalances: after 1957 the N C N C cabinet had a substantially larger Catholic component; the Action Group leadership has endeavored to attract m o r e Muslim colleagues; and the NPC has recruited leaders from among Christians in the lower north. J a m e s S. C o l e m a n ' s t a b u l a t i o n s on the e d u c a t i o n a l b a c k g r o u n d of Nigerian parliamentarians from 1952 to 1957 show the differential impact of

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39

Western e d u c a t i o n on party leadership in the Northern Region and in the south. T h u s , about t w o - t h i r d s of the eastern and western m e m b e r s of the H o u s e of R e p r e s e n t a t i v e s and of the r e g i o n a l H o u s e s of A s s e m b l y had received secondary education, and about one-third had been educated at the university level. In contrast, only 49 per cent of the northern members of the House of Representatives had been educated up to the secondary level, and only 8 per cent of t h e m had reached the university level. In the Northern House of Assembly, the secondary level had been attained by only 17 per cent, and the university level, by 2 per cent. 1 1 It is estimated that the average level of Western education attained by members of the N E P U Executive Committee is about three to four grades lower than that of their N P C counterparts. Table 3.2 clearly indicates that elite occupational groups constitute 97.3 per cent. 1 2 Very small percentages of the categories of petty trade, crafts, shopkeeping, laboring, and farming advance to leadership. Only the N E P U draws its leaders substantially f r o m these latter groups. Leadership

Status and

Recruitment

Ralph Linton's analytical distinction between ascribed and achieved status 1 3 is relevant to patterns of party leadership in Nigeria. The difference between ascribed and achieved status is roughly that between the relative importance attached to " w h o you are" as against "what you can do." Socially achieved leadership status is the rule in the Action G r o u p and the N C N C . Socially ascribed leadership status is the dominant pattern in the N P C (we refer, of c o u r s e , to s i g n i f i c a n t t e n d e n c i e s ; l e a d e r s h i p s t a t u s is n e v e r e x c l u s i v e l y ascribed or a c h i e v e d , and this is true of N i g e r i a n political p a r t i e s ) . T h e a c h i e v e m e n t o r i e n t a t i o n of t r a d i t i o n a l c u l t u r e s in s o u t h e r n N i g e r i a h a s doubtless contributed to the prevalence of this quality in party leadership patterns in the Eastern and Western regions. T h e Ibo people, for example, are noted for their v a l u a t i o n of i n d i v i d u a l a c h i e v e m e n t and " r e c e p t i v i t y to change." 1 4 A m o n g the more hierarchical Yoruba, merit or achievement has a l w a y s b e e n o n e of the important a v e n u e s to a c h i e f t a i n c y title, as it is today. 15 Furthermore, the processes of commercialization, m o d e r n urbanization, and Western education have generated a new rising class, w h o s e m e m bers have also imparted to southern society the achievement-oriented values of their social and occupational roles. T h e m a j o r types of leaders in the Action Group and the N C N C m a y be characterized as "organizational intelligentsia," "cosmopolitan celebrities," " c o m m u n a l h e r o e s , " a n d " t r a d i t i o n a l n o t a b l e s , " r o u g h l y in that order of importance. T h e most n u m e r o u s and most important group of leaders, the organizational intelligentsia, are typically educators, professionals, and businessmen w h o enjoy high social position and have devoted their talents and lent their prestige to the service of a nationalist party. Cosmopolitan celebrities are popular lawyers and businessmen whose charismatic qualities appeal to the e l e c t o r a t e s of m u l t i t r i b a l u r b a n c o m m u n i t i e s . T h e c o m m u n a l h e r o

40

CLASS & C U L T U R E IN

NIGERIA

combines assets of ascription and achievement; he personifies the political values of a homogeneous cultural subgroup in an area of traditional habituation, and provides the crucial link between traditionalists who resist change at the local level and radicals who foster change at the national level. In each of these instances the personality type and the requirements of leadership mutually reinforce the social importance attached to performance. Skillful and successful men are sought after by a political party, which is itself a broad channel of upward mobility. Indeed, service to the party alone has sometimes been responsible for the enhanced social position enjoyed by party leaders. 1 6 Finally, the traditional notable represents the incidence of ascription on leadership in southern Nigeria. Normally, in that area, the traditional heads of customary hierarchies are not party members, but they frequently consent to be identified as patrons. The degree of influence wielded by men of this category in southern Nigeria is limited by the extensive political control that government parties in the east and the west exercise over traditional institutions. The ascriptive nature of traditional northern emirate leadership is basically a function of the rule that the highest traditional office, emirship, is available only to those eligible by birth to seek it, whereas all other offices and titles are awarded primarily on the basis of kinship, marriage, hereditary vassalage, or clientage (personal allegiance) to the emir. Furthermore, in Hausa society the "system of occupational status... is almost wholly ascriptive in its orientation since its units are closed descent groups between which all movement is disapproved"; 17 however, clientage and to some degree marriage have always provided possible channels of upward mobility. Furthermore, royal slaves were frequently utilized in certain official capacities, were awarded special titles, and were therefore considered to be part of the ruling class. T h e impact of traditional status patterns of N P C leadership is best observed in the Northern House of Assembly, where 94 of 131 legislators elected in 1959 from constituencies located in emirates were NPC members. Almost one-fourth of this group (24 per cent) were sons of incumbent or former emirs. If the measure of kinship is extended to include more distant relatives (brothers, grandsons, nephews, first cousins), more than one-third (37 per cent) of such seats in the House were held by the blood kin of ruling emirs. Of the remaining N P C members in this category, 6 per cent were men married into ruling houses, 7 per cent were identified as fadawa (sing, bafada; an emir's courtiers or servants, who are invariably in a relationship of clientage), and 17 per cent were members of hereditarily titled families; other titled nobles and high officials accounted for another 11 per cent. Four seats were held by persons who were not then prominent but whose fathers were high t r a d i t i o n a l o f f i c i a l s ; the f a t h e r of one w a s a native court j u d g e . Altogether, 87 per cent of the N P C members from emirates belonged to the traditional ruling class, and half of the remaining number were lower-rank employees of native authorities. It is significant, however, that, although persons with unmistakably high

POLITICS & INTEGRATION

41

ascriptive credentials dominate the top party ranks, some of those in such positions apparently do not fit this description. Traditional emirate rules excluded even wealthy merchant-traders (attajirai) from holding political title and office, yet a northern minister who was also regional president of the party, and fifteen others in this occupational category, were NPC members of the Northern House of Assembly in 1959. 18 Persuaded by the traditional elite to enter politics after the introduction of popular elections, attajirai are usually Habe talakawa who are in command of considerable financial resources; these attributes have made them valuable allies of the aristocratic party chiefs in the competition for mass political support. As allies, the attajirai offer an additional advantage in that the persistence of a relatively low cultural evaluation of their status, and their own well-ingrained habits of deference, tend to prevent them from appearing or acting as rivals of the aristocracy, even in modern politics. Those attajirai who themselves might entertain such thoughts are probably deterred by the consideration that nowadays the more lucrative business opportunities require public support (trading licenses, investments, loans, etc.). Thus the NPC has become increasingly more sensitive to the interests of entrepreneurs, but it has not converted entrepreneurial assets into the political power they might represent in a society where tradition is less pervasive. A few leaders at the very top also come from a background of relatively low traditional status. Prime Minister Balewa's father was a slave, as was the father of the incumbent N P C federal Minister of Mines and Powerji 9 the northern Minister of Finance is the son of a koranic mallam and bafada to a Nupe nobleman. These three leaders especially, who have risen primarily through educational attainment and demonstrated ability, represent the incidence of achievement criteria in NPC leadership recruitment. As we have noted, however, their rise is not completely foreign to traditional preconceptions. Paradoxically, the relative flexibility of traditional rules of leadership recruitment has facilitated the survival of the traditional aristocracy by permitting assimilation of modern political talent. That this flexibility is not without limits, however, is suggested by the assertion of conservative northerners that a person of Balewa's traditional status is far more acceptable as prime minister than he would be as premier of the Northern Region (which constitutes a position of direct formal authority over the emirs). Northern leadership ascription is fostered by active relationships between individuals in the two spheres of party and native administration. Native administration officials, who leave their posts to take up ministerial appointments, do not resign, but rather are designated as being "on leave without pay." Several prominent government ministers are also the most influential members of their respective emirs' councils. Ministerial office is often the steppingstone to advancement in the traditional hierarchy; in eight years no less than six ministers or junior ministers resigned their posts (one since the attainment of regional self-government) to take up office in their emirates.

42

CLASS & CULTURE IN NIGERIA

This is also a measure of the attraction that traditional administrative office continues to hold. These relationships reflect a process of mutual cooptation of traditional and modern party elites, a mode of recruitment which contrasts markedly with the leadership recruitment patterns of southern parties. NEPU leadership reflects the party's ideological objective of a radical democracy in which the ordinary talakawa have a fair share. By any measure—occupation, education, or traditional status—the majority of N E P U leaders at national and local levels are drawn from the lower strata of society. Many salaried clerks and technical workers employed in native administrations, and other educated individuals, covertly sympathize with the NEPU's program, but are inhibited from assuming leadership roles by considerations of career. Few NEPU leaders have aristocratic origins. The presence of certain wellborn individuals among NEPU leaders is significant, however. The life president-general, Mallam Aminu Kano, is himself a member of an eminent Fulani family of traditional Kano jurists; the patron of the party is a descendant of the royal family of Sokoto; and the secretary general is a member of one of the ruling dynasties of the Bida Emirate. Leaders such as Aminu Kano typify the patrician radical whose ideological convictions lead to identification with the common people, but whose high ascriptive status proves advantageous in mobilizing radical political action in ascription-conscious societies. Other leaders of this status, found more often in local NEPU branches, are products of chronic friction within the aristocracy. They are men who have lost their positions and have become disaffected, either because certain administrative offenses they have committed were exposed or because they have fallen victim to the intense competition that is waged among the eligible for traditional title and office, or because of both, as the dynamics of traditional politics often relate the two causes. For the disaffected, the NEPU represents an alternative channel of political activity and a chance to recoup influence and position. Because formerly powerful officials usually retain some following, the party sometimes gains additional support through being associated with them. This situation was epitomized by the candidacy under the NEPU banner in the 1959 elections of two deposed emirs, the ex-Emir of Dikwa and the tx-Lamido of Adamawa. Although the amount of support that the N E P U picks up in this manner may easily be exaggerated (e.g., the ex-emirs were not elected), this strand in the N E P U leadership is not inconsequential. PARTY MEMBERS AND SUPPORTERS The major Nigerian political parties are comprehensive membership groups. Any Nigerian may be a member of the Action Group or the NCNC, and any person of northern origin is eligible for membership in the N P C and the NEPU. During the final decade of colonial rule, millions of Nigerians were drawn by the major political parties into the main stream of national politics;

POLITICS & INTEGRATION

43

more than 7 million persons voted in the general elections of December, 1959. It is a common observation that political parties in Nigeria and elsewhere in Africa rely strongly upon communal participation, that is, political alignment on the basis of ethnic or religious affinity. If defined to mean only religious and ethnic ties, however, the concept of communalism provides inadequate insights into Nigerian party politics. Maurice Duverger's analysis of the quality or nature of participation, based on Ferdinand Tonnies' classic distinction between Gemeinschaft (community) and Gesellschaft (society), is more suggestive. 20 Pure Gemeinschaft relationships are natural, spontaneous, and involuntary—for example, as Duverger suggests, the attachment of an individual to his family, village, country, or race. For purposes of the present discussion, party alignment on a Gemeinschaft or communal basis means that members and supporters conceive of their party as an extension of a social order into which they have been born and to which they attribute spiritual or mystical significance. Gesellschaft, or associational participation, means purposeful alignment on the basis of a perceived interest. By so restricting these concepts, it becomes apparent that ethnic affinity is not a sufficient condition of communal participation. For example, settlers in a new urban area of Nigeria may support a political party largely for ethnic or tribal reasons, but commitment to a party in a new town does not have the intensely emotional quality that attaches to identification with a social order to which moral excellence is attributed. On the contrary, membership or support may also be contingent on the position of the party on issues of social conflict, endemic to the class structure of a commercial town, which affect settlers' interests. Once individuals no longer perceive the social order as sacred and inviolable, ethnic affinity does not produce communal participation in the Gemeinschaft sense. Communal participation became important with the introduction of popular elections in 1951, which obliged nationalist leaders to enlist the support of the peasantry. Party leaders quickly perceived that customary institutions and associations based on cultural solidarity could be employed to supplement and sustain local organizations that were deficient in membership and laggard in performance. The first political party to utilize customary institutions and traditional authorities for the purpose of systematic organization of the peasantry was the Action Group in western Nigeria. As previously noted, a Yoruba cultural organization called the Egbe Omo Oduduwa was of invaluable assistance to the Action Group's program of mass organization. By and large, the Yoruba traditional chiefs resigned themselves to the era of democratic government, and hoped that in return the dignity of chieftaincy would be preserved in the new order. The alignment of these chiefs with the Yorubaspeaking intelligentsia of the Action Group was essentially associational in nature, but through the role of the chiefs the Action Group at the local level was widely endowed with the aura of traditional sanction.

44

CLASS & CULTURE IN NIGERIA

A key feature of party politics in southern Nigeria is that parties frequently rely on mass participation of a communal nature in local areas of traditional habitation, although the commitment of party leaders who belong to a rising class is associational in character. Usually the integrated community will accept the political leadership of its emergent class. On occasion, however, the people of traditional communities have rebelled against such leadership. At Ibadan, capital of the Western Region, the indigenous community repudiated the leadership of rising-class elements w h o declared for the Action Group. One explanation is that the Ibadan Yoruba identified the Action Group with the interests of their traditional rivals, the Ijebu Yoruba. Their antipathy to the Action Group was aggravated by the presence in Ibadan of many Ijebu settlers who pressed for democratic representation in the local government council and for the right of settlers to acquire urban land on a freehold basis. Most of the Ibadan indigenes do not share the panYoruba and nontraditional perspectives of the settlers. In 1954 they rallied to a communal party called in Yoruba the Mabolaje. (Mabolaje means "[Do] not reduce the dignity of chiefs.") Its founder, the late Alhaji Adegoke Adelabu, a leader of the NCNC, was the prototype of the communal hero as party leader. The Ibadan experience suggests that stimulating communal participation may entail encouraging values that are inimical to modernization, but it also suggests that if secular leadership is in control, the device is likely to result in less reactionary political activity than might otherwise occur. In matters of local administration, Adelabu of Ibadan often acquiesced in the narrow views of traditional chiefs and their followers, but he gained their loyalty to a political party that pursued secular and modernistic goals on the wider national scene. The impact of rivalry between Ijebu and Ibadan Yoruba on party competition in the Western Region also suggests that subcultural segmentation within ethnic nationalities may constitute a problem for political parties that rely on communal appeals. In eastern Nigeria, where vast numbers of rural Ibo people are attached to the N C N C by virtue of sentiments largely communal in nature, c o m m u n a l reactions erupted within the party in 1957 among the indigenous people (the Udi Ibo) in the area of Enugu, the capital city. Many Udi Ibo partisans were also laborers in the Enugu coal mines, and their object was to wrest control of the local N C N C and the local government council from cosmopolitan Ibo settlers under the leadership of businessmen, professionals, and other rising-class elements. The Ibadan and Enugu conflicts also illustrate the point that in the transitional environment of southern Nigeria, forces of community and class are constantly interacting within and between the political parties in a highly complex and not always predictable fashion. In the emirate areas of northern Nigeria, participation on the basis of traditional affinities is not synonymous with communal participation, in that social stratification is rooted in antiquity and is not primarily the consequence of recent Western contact or of socioeconomic change. The associational

POLITICS & INTEGRATION

45

principle is inherent in the distinction the Hausa-Fulani m a k e b e t w e e n sarakuna and talakawa. The purview of northern political parties, however, is not exclusively traditional, nor are they precluded from enlisting support by asserting communal values. By and large, the active membership of the N P C comprises a coalition of interests, including hereditary rulers, traditional notables, elements with a higher modern education, the ma'aikata or native administration clerical and technical workers, and well-to-do merchant-traders. This coalition is definitely structured, with traditionalists in the upper echelons of the hierarchy. Clearly the NPC could not have remained dominant in an era of democratic elections if its support had been limited to a coalition of minority interests. The requisite mass support has been enlisted through appeals that make use of both associational and communal principles of participation on the one h a n d , and of b o t h t r a d i t i o n a l a n d m o d e r n s e n t i m e n t s on t h e o t h e r . Associational principles bind individuals who seek patronage in the modern form of opportunities for remunerative employment, for profitable enterprise, and for special services, which have opened up because of the postwar emphasis on economic development; both the government and the native administrations are in a position to dispense such patronage. At the same time, N P C supporters include many people who have simply remained within the nexus of the traditional institution of clientage or personal allegiance to members of the traditional ruling hierarchy. Until very recently, this relationship represented not only the main channel of upward mobility to and within the traditional hierarchy; it also, for the talakawa, constituted virtually the only political means of protecting themselves against the possibility of illtreatment at the hands of other individual members of the local, traditional bureaucracies. In effect, these clients have transferred their dependence on persons—their allegiance to individual traditional patrons—to the modern party of their patrons. Given the potentially divisive class structure of Hausa society, however, the logic of strictly associational principles of participation is a sword of Damocles to the status quo, a situation of which the traditional ruling class, as others, is well aware. Hence, if the N P C is to succeed in preserving the traditional order in the upper north, as it clearly desires to do, the party must emphasize principles of solidarity; it must stress the basically integrative forces within the traditional community. In the emirates virtually the only such f o r c e is Islam. T h u s , in its approach to the masses, the party constantly asserts the bonds of the community of the faithful, and benefits from the strictures in Islamic doctrine against schism. Inasmuch as the N P C is identified with fostering traditional authority, and as traditional authority is religiously sanctioned, party, faith, and community may be convincingly portrayed as one. That the N E P U ' s alliance with the N C N C within the Northern Region embodies an allegiance incompatible with fidelity to Islam is a corollary of the doctrine of communal unity, which

46

CLASS & CULTURE IN NIGERIA

the N P C has relentlessly and effectively propagated (notwithstanding its coalition with the N C N C in the federal government). The active NEPU members are largely those who are least enthralled by hierarchical relationships and assumptions, notably petty traders, artisans, and youths of the towns. Petty traders and artisans are less dependent for their livelihood on the goodwill of eminent personages than are either peasants or attajirai; moreover, they commonly have special grievances in connection with taxation. In large urban centers like Zaria and Kano, initials or insignia openly proclaiming NEPU affiliation may be seen on the outer walls or doors of certain houses, which are usually found to belong to m e m b e r s of this socioeconomic segment. Similarly, the numerous gardawa (itinerant pupils engaged in memorizing the Koran) are by definition unattached to settled social hierarchies, and the NEPU has been able to draw many of them into its fold. In general, youths of the towns have not entered into the normally adult relationships of clientage. Indeed, many of them have migrated to towns precisely in order to escape the inevitable toil, discipline, and subservience of peasant life. In the towns they are exposed to cosmopolitan influences and attractions, and are able to subsist by working intermittently for wages. That such youths are relatively liberated from normal social bonds is implied in the Hausa epithet with which the more "substantial" members of the community deride them: yan iska (literally, "sons of the wind"). But these urban activists are not numerous enough to provide sufficient electoral support; in fact, many of the youths concerned are below voting age. In rural areas the associational appeal of the NEPU derives from its efforts on behalf of peasants w h o complain of maladministration and corruption. Paradoxically, however, the NEPU's efforts to articulate such grievances—by making them public, by petitioning government administrative officers for alleviation, or by prompting litigation—are often considered by the peasants to be less effective than traditional antidotes. As the NEPU's avowed intention is to do away with the traditional system in the emirates, to invoke the unity of the existing community would obviously be incongruous if not self-defeating. Yet the NEPU, too, makes a communal appeal. It has sought mass support by trying to evoke the special identity and solidarity of the Habe vis-à-vis their conquerors, the Fulani. In conjuring up glories of the past, of a social and political order without the overlordship of the Fulani, the NEPU is invoking what might be called vestigial communalism—a sense of an antecedent and morally preeminent community underneath and beyond the existing one. Wherever this sense has always been strong, notably in the predominately Habe sections of Kano City, the NEPU has enjoyed substantial support in all elections between 1951 and 1961. Alternatively, but in like vein, the NEPU is careful to emphasize what it proclaims to have been the authentic ideals of the jihad (a righteous war for the purification of Islamic faith and practice) which helped to put the Fulani rulers in power, with the imputation that these ideals have been

POLITICS & INTEGRATION

47

betrayed by those who succeeded the founding fathers of the Fulani empire. Although the NEPU evidently has not succeeded in rallying the bulk of the peasantry around such communal values, the values help to explain the size of the party's peasant following. PARTY STRUCTURE AND ORGANIZATION Primary Elements: Local

Levels

The National Convention of Nigerian Citizens and the Action Group are "direct," individual membership parties, based on branches formed at various levels of local government, nominally at the level of local or district council. NCNC branches in the Eastern Region are usually formed in local government areas; they are coordinated by executive committees at the regional constituency level. Some branches of the NCNC in the Western Region are, in effect, organizational units of communal participation; parochial names symbolize their unique local origins: for example, the Otu Edo (Edo Community) of Benin and the Egbe Oyo Parapo (Oyo People's Party). Although membership in these tribal parties is restricted to the indigenous population of Benin and Oyo, respectively, the parties are the major components of integrated local NCNC branches which include settler elements as well. The Action Group prescribes the formation of branches at the level of local government electoral wards. Heretofore, Action Group branches in the Western Region, like those of the NCNC in the Eastern Region, have been coordinated by conferences and executive bodies at the level of the division, formerly the basic unit of colonial administration. Several divisions coincide with the traditional jurisdictions of paramount chiefs, and the eclipse of divisional organizations by new units of coordination at the level of the constituency for the regional House of Assembly reflects the decline of traditional authority in local party affairs. NPC local party branches invariably coincide with units of local government and administration. Moreover, the importance of a party branch in village, ward, rural district, town, division, or province corresponds roughly to the importance of the parallel administrative level. Traditional-administrative authority and party leadership tend to be exercised by the same personnel, especially in rural districts. Of sixty-eight rural district branches surveyed in 1959, sixty had a party chairman who was also the district bead (traditional subchief of an emirate). In conformity with the party's close relationship with the emirate system, NPC party authority is highly decentralized. The key decision-making unit is normally located at the level of the division, except, significantly, when the divisional unit does not correspond to the unit of traditional habitation; thus, in divisions that include more than one traditional emirate, all important party matters affecting the latter (nominations, finance, etc.) are

48

CLASS & CULTURE IN NIGERIA

within the jurisdiction of the lower branch, corresponding to the emirate rather than to the division. This arrangement indicates that NPC organization reflects and acknowledges the traditional status of emirates as virtually autonomous states. One of the inestimable advantages offered to the NPC by the fusion of party with local administrative authority was stated in an early memorandum on party organization: "The party must make every effort to have one member at least in every village of fair size in the region. This is possible if the party can win the hearts of village and district scribes [clerks], schoolteachers, and native authority employees whose work concerns touring, for example, agricultural, veterinary, medical, and forest mallams. The services of such officers to the party are most important." 21 Indeed, at the local level, the relationship between the party machinery and the administrative apparatus of the traditional emirate unit may best be described as symbiotic. The party acts in defense of traditional authority, and traditional authority sustains the party. Significantly, the most important local NEPU units do not coincide with the division or the emirate, but are at the rural district, town, or provincial level; those at the provincial level, especially the annual provincial conferences, are the most important. Also in contrast with the NPC, the NEPU organization is highly centralized, and a direct chain of command links the local branches to one another and to the central party. Primary Elements: Federal and Regional Levels National Convention of Nigerian Citizens. Supreme authority in the NCNC is vested in its national convention, held annually and for special purposes. Nine annual and four special conventions were held in the twelve-year span from 1948 through 1959. The right of representation is extended to every regional c o n s t i t u e n c y and to units of the p r i n c i p a l ancillary organizations—the Women's Association and the Zikist Movement; to all parliamentary m e m b e r s ; and to m e m b e r s of the National Executive Committee. The conventions of the NCNC are well known for the freewheeling spontaneity of their proceedings. To cite an illustration, the motion empowering the national president to appoint the national officers, adopted by the Aba convention of 1957, was moved from the convention floor as an alternative to more drastic m e a s u r e s proposed by N n a m d i Azikiwe. Currently, all national officers (with the exception of the national organizer, who is a full-time employee of the party), including the national president and the national secretary, are subject to annual reelection by the national convention. In addition to the national officers, who compose the Central Working Committee, the national convention elects forty-four other members to the National Executive Committee, with due regard for the representation of geographical areas and groups that have been active in the nationalist movement. The Executive Committee meets semiannually and as required; some of its famous meetings have been, in effect, "little conventions,"

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distinguished by a presidential address, the presence of many observers, and an air of controversy. Under Azikiwe, the effective powers of the committee were sometimes delegated to a small group called the Strategic Committee, which included the Central Working Committee. Regional agencies of the National Executive Committee, created in 1951, were dissolved in 1953 in order to remedy autonomistic tendencies. After adoption of the federal constitution for Nigeria in 1954 and Azikiwe's assumption of the eastern premiership, regional working committees were restored under regional conferences, with safeguards to ensure the supremacy of the national organization. These safeguards proved faulty, and after the crisis at the Aba convention of 1957, central control was extended by introducing centralized budgets and by appointing a national organizer to be responsible for the conduct of all elections. These innovations have decisively tipped the balance in favor of the central organization. Like that of the British Labour Party, the nonparliamentary origin of the NCNC has created a "problem of extra-parliamentary control," 22 which gave rise to the eastern government crisis of 1953. 23 An ensuing revision of the party's constitution affirmed the subordination of all parliamentary wings to central party organs, in particular to the Central Working Committee, the National Executive Committee, and the national convention. It is stipulated, however, that the deposition of a parliamentary leader requires action by the parliamentary party concerned. Action Group. Supreme authority in the Action Group, which has made a virtue of organizational efficiency, is vested in its annual federal congress, comprising two representatives of every federal constituency, all federal parliamentary members, all regional ministers or members of the regional shadow cabinets, two representatives of the party in the Lagos Town Council, and all members of the Federal Executive Council. Prior to independence, congresses of the Action Group were significant for the promulgation and exposition, rather than the formulation, of party policies. The principal decisionmaking unit is the Federal Executive Council, a large body composed of all officers of the party, all ministers or shadow-cabinet members in all the governments of Nigeria, and twelve members elected annually by each regional conference. The powers of the council, which meets quarterly, are delegated to the Working Committee, which directs the administrative and financial affairs of the party at both federal and regional levels. All officers of the Action Group are elected annually. 24 Until 1957 the Action Group was virtually governed by its Western Regional organization. Concomitant with the expansion of the party into the east and the north on a grand scale, centralization of authority has been affirmed by constitutional provisions which designate the federal president as the principal officer of each region's executive committee, and stipulate that the chairman of each regional conference shall be a federal officer, sub-

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ject to election by the federal congress. In 1959 zonal organizations were established in accordance with the p a r t y ' s ideas on the creation of new states. Two zonal executives were organized in the east and five in the north, composed of representatives elected by divisional and provincial conferences, respectively. Although the origins of the Action Group are extraparliamentary, the primary object of the party founders was the attainment of power under a colonial constitution leading to self-government. It is only since independence that radical non-parliamentarians have asserted their views vigorously within Action Group councils, creating a potential for conflict between parliamentary and organizational elements. The party constitution provides for the election of regional parliamentary leaders by joint meetings of the regional parliamentary council and the executive committee of the regional conference concerned. Provision is made also for a high degree of coordination among the several legislative wings. Obafemi Awolowo, federal president of the Action Group, is also styled "Leader of the Party"; he is elected to the latter office by a joint meeting of all parliamentary councils, both regional and federal. The leader and the deputy leader hold office for life. Although there is no constitutional provision for deposition of the leader or the deputy leader by the joint parliamentary councils, it is thought inconceivable that either one would remain in office should he fail to be reelected as leader of the legislative house to which he belongs, to win a vote of confidence by a parliamentary council, or to be elected to a regular party office. During the crisis of 1962 it was established that the Federal Executive Council may direct the removal of a parliamentary leader. Northern People's Congress. Under the constitution of the NPC, the annual convention of the party theoretically enjoys "absolute power to decide major policies." Originally adopted in 1948, the constitution seldom provides a guide to current practices and arrangements. No ordinary annual conventions were convoked in 1951,1953, 1957, 1959, or 1960, although emergency conventions were held in July, 1952, and in September, 1957. The constitution also provides for the annual election of party officers; however, in 1955, the year after Alhaji Ahmadu, the Sardauna of Sokoto, assumed the presidency, the convention voted to "freeze" the slate of officers selected then for five years. As it happened, these years coincided with the crucial period during which terms for the transfer of colonial power to the federal and the N P C regional g o v e r n m e n t s were negotiated. The culmination of a process by which the parliamentary party achieved ascendancy over the extraparliamentary convention seemed to have been reached in 1959, when all the parliamentary members of the party met at Kaduna to propose and adopt the party's electoral manifesto, which no other party body formally considered before its publication.

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51

It is reported that on no occasion since 1951 has the platform been outvoted on issues discussed in the convention; indeed, existing records suggest that voting has rarely been a part of convention proceedings. This remarkable control of the rank-and-file membership by the parliamentary party has never been legislated, but seems rather to reflect the hierarchical relationships and expectations vis-à-vis authority which prevail in the dominant sector of northern society. Day-to-day party business at the central level is conducted by a body called the National Working Committee, which in practice consists of an ad hoc group of advisers called in from time to time to consult with the president-general or with officers acting in his behalf, and commonly includes other ministers, prominent nonparliamentary members of the Executive Committee, and a few top-ranking secretariat officials. Party policy discussion has centered in the parliamentary caucuses of the federal and regional legislatures. The principle of decentralization carries over to the organization of the parliamentary party. In meetings held at the Premier's House in Kaduna during sessions of the Northern House of Assembly, two delegates from each province often "represent" the other members of the House from their area. A minister from each province serves as a permanent chairman of his delegation. In contrast with proceedings at annual conventions, the atmosphere of parliamentary party meetings is said to be one of free give-and-take. Discipline is invoked on motions of importance to the government, but the principle of decentralization is honored in the right of a representative to assert the views and the interests of his locality. The relative uniformity in social status of the parliamentary group (compared with the composition of open conventions) facilitates the process of reciprocal exchange and debate. During the last decade harmony prevailed between the federal and regional NPC parliamentary bodies. In 1960, however, the federal government, led by Alhaji Sir Abubakar Tafawa Balewa, the prime minister and first vice-president of the NPC, declared its willingness to accept a loan from Israel even though the NPC-controlled regional House of Assembly passed a resolution voicing its opposition to the proposal. Northern Elements' Progressive Union. In the NEPU, supreme authority at the central party level is vested in an annual conference (which has never failed to meet), attended by branch representatives and representatives of local youth and women's sections. Formerly, the president-general was elected annually, but at the Jos convention of January, 1959, Aminu Kano was elevated to the position of life president. Four party officers are selected by the life president, and the others are chosen by a committee consisting of one representative from each of the twelve northern provinces plus Kano City, over which the life president presides. The life president also submits a list of candidates for membership on the National Executive Committee to the annual conference for its approval. A great deal of party business is in

52

CLASS & CULTURE IN NIGERIA

practice conducted by subcommittees, the most important of which are those of elections and finance, of which Aminu Kano is chairman. Local branches are instructed through paid provincial organizers to adhere to policies arrived at by the National Executive Committee. Until 1960, dissension within the party was rare, probably owing in part to the powerful position occupied by Aminu Kano. The only notable instance of a conflict between the extra-parliamentary party and a parliamentarian on a matter of policy was resolved by expulsion of the parliamentarian. A further indication of the degree of centralization and control exercised by the national party was the selection of several candidates to contest the 1959 federal election in constituencies of which they were neither natives nor residents, a risk rarely assumed by other Nigerian parties. In 1960 a minor N E P U breakaway organization was formed, ostensibly over the issue of the N E P U ' s participation, through its continuing alliance with the N C N C , in the federal coalition government dominated by its archfoe, the NPC. After Aminu Kano (who reportedly had refused a ministerial post in 1959) assumed the post of government whip, he became the target of accusations on the part of this new group that the NEPU was being "sold out." Ancillary

Elements

The NCNC constitution has always provided for the organization of auxiliary groups, such as the Women's Association, the Youth Association, and the Zikist National Vanguard. These groups are forbidden to present candidates for election, and their local branches are required to accept the guidance of local party executives. The branches of the auxiliaries are represented at national conventions of the party, and their central executives are represented on the National Executive Committee. Both the Youth Association and the Zikist National Vanguard sought to preserve the heritage of the militant Zikist Movement. 2 5 The Vanguard was formed in November, 1955, after conservative leaders of the N C N C had tried to render the radical Youth Association ineffectual by the imposition of a twenty-five-year age limit on its membership. Youth leaders disregarded the ban, which was repealed in 1957, but the Vanguard refused to relinquish its identity until 1961, when it merged into the Zikist Movement. Other organizations affiliated with the N C N C include numerous ethnic group associations and minor local parties, such as the Ilorin Araromi Congress in the north and the Nigerian Commoners' Liberal Party in the west. Ancillary elements are less important in the Action Group. W o m e n ' s organizations are active at local and regional levels, but youth groups are localized in order to preclude insubordinate movements, and an eighteen-year age limit is strictly enforced. Ethnic group associations are related on a de facto basis to certain local branches, although the Action Group constitution does not provide for their membership. In the Northern Region, parties affiliated with the Action Group include the United Middle Belt Congress, the

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Bornu Youth Movement, the Ilorin Talaka Parapo (Commoners' Party), and the Habe-Fulani People's Party of southwestern Bauchi. Two important ancillary bodies of the Northern Peoples' Congress are the Youth Association and, notwithstanding the fact that the NPC opposes female suffrage, the Women's Section, which renders service to the party by attracting the enfranchised males. The Ex-Servicemen's Association, two student societies, two trade unions (one of which is the influential Northern Mineworkers' Union of Jos), a business association (the Northern Transport Owners' Union of Zaria), and ten tribal unions in the Middle Belt are listed as affiliates of the national organization. In 1953 a group identified with the NPC, called the Yan Mahaukata ("sons of madmen"), sprang up in Kano City after the courts failed to punish NEPU supporters for acts of verbal abuse against traditional authorities. Until declared illegal by the government, the Yan Mahaukata terrorized local members of the NEPU. This auxiliary was succeeded by the now-defunct Alheri Youth Association. A major offshoot of the NEPU, the Askianist Movement, existed from 1951 to about 1955, when it collapsed after irregularities in the management of its funds had disillusioned its followers. The group took its name from the famous Muhammad Askia who usurped the throne of the medieval western Sudanic Songhai empire, initiated a period renowned for its cultural and religious renaissance, and eventually conquered the Hausa states ("Askia" was a title meaning "usurper"). 2 6 To a group of young Habe adherents of the NEPU, Muhammad Askia seemed a perfect symbol for projection of the party's program and its leader, Aminu Kano (occasionally, Aminu Kano was referred to by the Askianists as "Muhammad Aminu," and the organization as the "Northern Askianist-Aminiyya Movement"). The Askianist Movement was an intriguing example of the NEPU's efforts to penetrate the peasantry through consciousness of and pride in a pre-Fulani political order. In 1956 the N E P U established a youth wing, the Reshen Samarin Sawaba (Freedom Youth Wing), to succeed the Askianist Movement, and the Women's Wing. In response to the NPC's Yan Mahaukata, the NEPU organized the Positive Action Wing (PAW), which disappeared when its rival did. In Kano City, strong-arm associates of the NPC and the NEPU are presently known as the Yan Akusa and the Yan Kwaria because of their helmetlike hats made of wood and calabash, respectively. Several currently functioning NEPU ancillaries with Arabic names are associated with Islam and with Muslim education. These include Zaharal Haq ("truth is revealed"—the revelation is the N E P U ' s interpretation of Islam as being opposed to political authoritarianism), Tab'iunal Haq ("the masses will rule those now ruling"), and Nujumu Zaman ("start of the day"). The NEPU realizes full well that to succeed it must counter the contention that the party's doctrines are not in conformity with Islam; therefore much importance is attached to these groups, whose emphasis is on religious training with the NEPU's own political slant.

54 Party

CLASS & CULTURE IN NIGERIA

Finance

The main regular sources of revenue for the major parties may be tabulated as follows: 1. Enrollment fees (1 shilling for the N C N C - N E P U and the Action Group; 2 shillings, 6 pence for the NPC), monthly dues (6 pence for the NCNC-NEPU; 1 shilling for the Action Group and the NPC), and affiliation fees of 1 guinea from local branches and member unions of the NCNC; Nigeria-wide organizations which affiliate with the national headquarters of the NCNC are required to pay 5 guineas. In 1958 the NCNC initiated a central registry of members who contributed 1 pound each to the national treasury. 2. The sale of party constitutions, literature, emblems, flags, and so forth. 3. Income from public lectures and social events. (The Action Group Palm Tree Clubs were organized to derive funds from the social activities of members, as were NEPU and, later, NPC dances.) 4. Levies on the salaries of parliamentarians and members of statutory boards and corporations. These levies are the main "fixed" source of party revenue, notwithstanding the difficulties frequently attendant upon their collection. The NCNC levies 10 per cent of the salaries of ministers, parliamentary secretaries, ordinary parliamentarians, and political appointees to public boards and corporations. The Action Group and the NPC impose a 10 per cent levy on parliamentary emoluments and on the salaries of those who hold patronage positions, but the Action Group exempts ministerial salaries on the ground that these are professional rather than political stipends. Ministers and junior ministers in both parties, however, are expected to defray a substantial portion of the expenses of their constituency or divisional organizations. 5. Donations by supporters. This is a variable source. It has been most lucrative for the Action Group which, it has been noted, was the offspring of a union of the intelligentsia and the commercial "middle class" of western Nigeria, possibly the most affluent and most numerous African business group in Tropical Africa. All parties enjoy loan facilities provided by allied banking institutions, as indicated in the next section. 27 RELATIONSHIPS Traditional

Authorities

In most Ibo areas of the Eastern Region, chieftaincy, as a political factor, is relatively insignificant. Yet the regional House of Chiefs was established in 1959 in response to demands from minority ethnic groups, among whom the political role of chieftaincy is greater than among the Ibo. These demands were supported by an influential lobby in Iboland, called the Eastern Region

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Chiefs' Conference. Most of the inaugural members of the Eastern House of Chiefs were N C N C supporters. From 1952 to 1959 the Western House of Chiefs was a coordinate chamber of the regional parliament; its assent was required for the enactment of regional legislation, which never met with obstruction in the chiefs' chamber. Its political complexion is evident in the fact that in 1958 only one of the fifty-four m e m b e r s was identified as a supporter of the opposition party. Traditional members of local government councils normally vote with Action Group elected members, and often ensure the party's ability to organize and control these councils. On occasion, as at Benin in 1958, Action Group strength in closely divided councils has been reinforced by timely "injections" of traditional members upon the recommendation of a head chief. It has been observed that a great many of the "recognized chiefs" (a legal term) in the Western Region are so-called "honorary chiefs" rather than traditional rulers. All told there are more than 1,500 recognized chiefs, constituting a pressure group of the first importance which has a motivation of its own despite the mechanisms of regional government control. At the local level in both eastern and western Nigeria, party leaders are obliged to weigh the opinions of the leaders of age groups, secret societies, and title societies, which continue to exert political influence in most rural communities. 2 8 Although northern emirs are not technically members of political parties, previous observations have indicated the close ties existing between them and the NPC. At times emirs perform important informal party roles (e.g., in connection with party nominations and the NPC sub-committee on self-government). The three most powerful emirs (of Sokoto, Kano, and Katsina) are regional ministers without portfolio, and as such they are inevitably associated with party policies. Unlike the upper houses in the federal and the other regional legislatures today, the Northern House of Chiefs has concurrent powers with the lower house, including power over appropriations. In practice, the intimate relationships between traditional and elective leadership tend to obviate friction, but they also help to give traditional authority a degree of political influence in modern political institutions probably unique in emergent Africa. Administrative-Governmental

Groups

Each of the three major parties has its system of patronage by means of which governmental and administrative structures are exploited for partisan advantage. A clear case of partisan exploitation of a public corporation is the Eastern Nigeria Information Service, publisher of the Eastern Outlook, which is, in effect, an N C N C party organ. Similarly, the Gaskiya Corporation of the Northern Regional government publishes weekly newspapers, in both Hausa and English, which tend to reflect the policies of the Northern P e o p l e s ' Congress.

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The major instrumentalities of commercial patronage are the regional marketing boards and the regional development corporations. The marketing boards appoint qualified firms and individuals as their licensed buying agents. Although licenses are issued on the basis of commercial criteria, political goodwill is a latent asset which seldom is spurned. 29 In like manner, fledgling firms that need government loans are well advised to cultivate political goodwill. Marketing board funds provide investment and loan capital for the regional statutory corporations, which frequently undertake agricultural and industrial projects in partnership with private interests. In 1962 a federal commission of inquiry into the financial practices of the Western Regional government disclosed that the Western Marketing Board had made loans in excess of £6 million to a private company, owned in its entirety by four leading members of the Action Group. Most of this money seems to have been channeled into the coffers of the party. Commercial contracts are awarded by the several governments and their statutory corporations. All governments utilize tendering procedures which are strictly monitored by civil servants, but ministers, junior ministers, or other politically reliable administrators participate. In the north, the economic power of native administrations (the largest of which, at Kano, budgeted for a revenue of £1.5 million in 1959) is wielded comparably, if on a more modest scale. Finally, it is a fairly unexceptionable fact that government party supporters in all regions predominate in local government services, in the membership of local loans boards, and in customary or native courts. Economic Interest Groups Politically, the most important relationships in this category involve Nigerian banking institutions. Marketing board funds, channeled into Nigerian banks, have enabled the banks to extend credit to Nigerian businessmen, notably to licensed buying agents. 30 In 1955 the Eastern Regional government acquired 87.7 per cent of the stock of the African Continental Bank by virtue of a £750,000 investment; it has since become sole owner, acquiring the shares held by companies related to the West African Pilot and the Zik Group of newspapers, a chain founded by Azikiwe before he began his career in government. In 1959 the managing director of the bank was also the managing director of the newspapers, editor in chief of the West African Pilot, and national auditor of the NCNC; the general manager of the West African Pilot was the national secretary of the NCNC. Neither the Pilot nor the several local newspapers of the Zik Group are subject to formal party control. But they are devoted to the party's cause, and, as with the party itself, a state of indebtedness to the African Continental Bank has been normal. In 1955 the Western Regional Marketing Board invested £1 million in nonparticipating shares of the National Bank of Nigeria, the oldest existing African private bank with the largest volume of business. (This bank was

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nationalized by the Western Regional government in 1961.) Obafemi Awolowo has described the relationship between the National Bank and the Action Group as "pure and simple, one between banker and customer." It may be added that this particular customer—that is, the party—is chiefly responsible for the bank's recent growth and for its expanding capacity to meet the financial requirements of a rising entrepreneurial class. Formerly the bank was the major shareholder of the Amalgamated Press of Nigeria, publisher of the former Daily Service and of a chain of local newspapers which support the Action Group. In 1960 the Amalgamated Press inaugurated a new daily newspaper in partnership with a Canadian firm. The managing director of the Amalgamated Press is the federal publicity secretary of the Action Group. In 1959 two smaller private banks, under the direction of Action Group members, were also supported by that party and by the Western Regional government. In 1960 the Northern Peoples' Congress acquired a financial ally in the Bank of the North, inaugurated with the participation of the Northern Regional government. In all regions the principal business associations tend to support the regional government party. In several urban areas of southern Nigeria, notably in Lagos, organized market women participate actively in party affairs. Trade unions, as a rule, are relatively independent of formal party relationships, owing partly to the disaffection of radical unionists from the major political parties and partly to tactical considerations of collective bargaining. 31 Ethnic and Religious Interest Groups The relationships of certain ethnic-group associations to particular political parties have created an exaggerated impression of the purely ethnic impact on party policies. In fact, the two best-known and most highly politicized nationality associations are rising-class movements among the Ibo- and Yorubaspeaking peoples, respectively. The Ibo Federal Union, which later evolved into the Ibo State Union, was inaugurated by politically conscious representatives of the Ibo intelligentsia. Azikiwe served as president of the union from 1948 to 1952, when he declined to accept reelection in the face of political criticisms stemming from his association with a "tribal" movement. During the eastern government crisis of 1953, the leadership of the union was divided. Largely as a result of that cleavage, the political elite withdrew from union office. But the Ibo State Union remains a sensitive index of Ibo public opinion, and Ibo ministers of state frequently attend meetings of its executive as coopted members or observers. In theory, the Egbe Omo Oduduwa is nonpartisan; in practice, its relationship to the Action Group, as described by an officer of both associations at an Egbe general assembly, is that of wine to water. In certain rural areas of Yorubaland, the two associations are virtually identical. For a decade the Egbe has served the Action Group in many ways, not the least of which is the

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settlement of disputes among Yoruba personalities (particularly chiefs) before disagreements become politically disruptive. Other nationality associations, such as the Ibibio State Union and the Edo National Union, are less highly politicized than the Ibo and Yoruba associations; they encompass informal groups which support both major southern parties. Exceptions include the quasi-political Urhobo Renascent Convention and the Warri People's Party of Delta Province, which may be classified as adjuncts of the NCNC, and the Tiv Progressive Union of Benue Province in the lower north, which supports the Action Group. At local levels, many branches of the N C N C and the Action Group are intimately related to ethnicgroup associations of the subnationality type. 32 In the upper Northern Region, ethnic-group associations play a comparatively minor role in politics. Their absence among the Hausa-Fulani may be attributed to alternative bonds of religion and to the multitribal span of the traditional Fulani empire. A few of the associations based on religious affinity are closely related to major parties. In 1957, leaders of the Action Group in the Western Region formed the United Muslim Council to counter the influence of the National Muslim League (later the National Emancipation League, an ally of the Northern Peoples' Congress). From time to time, leaders of Islamic congregations in southwestern Nigeria have been highly partisan to one party or another, particularly in Lagos and Ibadan. Interdenominational conflict in the Eastern Region over the issue of public support for parochial schools has ranged the Eastern Nigeria Catholic Council against the Convention of Protestant Citizens, although both associations are subject to dominant NCNC influence. In the Northern Region, leaders of the separatist United Middle Belt Congress are typically members of Christian mission congregations. In northern Nigeria, the Muslim mallams (here meaning specifically teachers or learned men), as the main interpreters of religious doctrine to the masses, wield e n o r m o u s influence. Probably the largest n u m b e r of and certainly the most influential mallams identify and are identified with the NPC. They tend to be extremely conservative, if not reactionary, in their outlook on the modern world. 3 3 To propagate its "religious" dicta, the N P C must cultivate the mallams, whose counsel usually reinforces the predilections of its more tradition-minded members and supporters. In contrast with the role of the mallams, the religio-political tendencies of the Tijaniyya turuq (Arabic; pi., tariqa), or mystic brotherhood, tend to link it to the NEPU. Probably the majority of Tijaniyya adherents in northern Nigeria vote for the N P C and are politically quiescent. What may be called a "left wing" of the Tijaniyya in northern Nigeria—the Yan Wazifa34—is, however, a radical i n f l u e n c e in both religion and politics. R e l i g i o u s l y the Tijaniyya, and especially the Yan Wazifa, are reformist, puritanical, missionary-minded groups; they rival the K h a d i r i y y a — t h e other major turuq in northern Nigeria—which is identified with the ruling house of Sokoto. It has been suggested that in northern Nigeria the Tijaniyya stands

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politically in relation to the Khadiriyya and orthodox Islam as a nonconformist sect stands to an established church. Where the head of an emirate follows the Khadiriyya, but the Tijaniyya is strong, as in Sokoto, the latter is regarded as a threat to existing authority and is treated accordingly. More orthodox Tijani emirs look on the Yan Wazifa in much the same way. Such hostility merely intensifies friction between the traditional ruling class and members of the Tijaniyya, the majority of whom are Habe commoners. The net result is a natural alliance between this turuq and the NEPU in certain parts of the upper north. 35 GOALS AND VALUES The salient goals and values of the major Nigerian parties are reflected in their respective attitudes in three broad areas of public policy: the political system, socioeconomic development, and foreign policy. The Political

System

The Nature of the Union. During the period of constitutional development leading to national self-government, each party was associated with a distinctive attitude on the subject of a desirable constitutional f r a m e w o r k for Nigeria. The N C N C preferred unitary government, and the Action Group and the NPC advocated federalism, with the NPC usually insisting on wide powers for regional units. The reservation of certain powers to the regions under the constitution has been crucial to the NPC's control of the extent and the pace of c h a n g e in the quasifeudal system of the upper north. It has also helped to diminish the persistent fear of the northern elites that an independent Nigeria, embarked on a course of modernization, might elevate the more highly Western-educated southern elites to a position of dominance over the entire country. Because the N P C has the largest stake in keeping certain powers (particularly, those affecting chieftaincy affairs, local government, the public service, and the judiciary) within the purview of regional governments, the party's "states' rights" attitude is likely to persist. The Action Group insists that federalism is necessary to protect cultural-group interests. This principle has led the party to advocate the creation of three new states or regions out of the existing regions in order to accommodate cultural diversity, a program that would inescapably entail a redress of the present constitutional balance in favor of a stronger central government. 3 6 The Action Group's apparent willingness to countenance an enlarged role for central institutions was also implicit in its proposal in 1959 that the federal government assume responsibility for achieving national minimum standards in education, welfare, and economic development. Since 1953 the N C N C has accepted the idea of a federal structure. It is fair to say, however, that the N C N C supports federalism as a necessary rule of order under present conditions, and not from the conviction that permanent and serious limitations on the powers of the

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central government are intrinsically desirable. Democracy versus Authoritarianism. All major political parties in Nigeria have proclaimed their dedication in principle to democracy. Doubtless some practices of each party could be cited as inconsistent with current Western formulations of that ideal; but that democracy is recognized by all parties as an organizing principle, and acknowledged as a standard of public responsibility, cannot be doubted on the evidence of policies, statements, and manifestoes covering more than a decade of political activity. It is noteworthy that the Action Group and the NCNC-NEPU insisted that a comprehensive declaration of fundamental rights (based largely on the Universal Declaration of Human Rights) be inserted into the Nigerian Constitution. The NPC also publicly endorses the goal of democracy, and has accepted the introduction of every major formal institution characteristic of modern parliamentary governments, save female suffrage. The NPC, however, is also committed to upholding traditional political institutions, particularly in the upper north, including theocratic authority, of which the party has at times seemed to regard itself as an instrument. 37 It is therefore evident that the NPC both tacitly and explicitly acknowledges the claims of ideals and allegiances that are essentially antagonistic to those of democracy, and that its proclaimed attitudes alone embody a dualism of basic political values. Prior to independence a shade of difference was discernible between the Action Group and the NCNC-NEPU in their respective tendencies to identify the essence of democracy as equality of opportunity on the one hand, and as substantive social equality on the other. Since independence the Action Group has edged painfully but surely away from liberal democracy to democratic socialism, whereas the NCNC has become increasingly vague on doctrinal matters. Probably the view that democratic values would be better served in Nigeria under a one-party system has wider currency within the NCNC. A former NCNC leader of the opposition (in the Western Region) has argued this point on the grounds that party competition is not a prerequisite to the right to disagree, that it increases the potentiality of communal conflict, that it precludes full utilization of available talent, and that in the present Nigerian environment party rivalries lead to arbitrary acts of government against individuals. 38 But Awolowo, who is an ardent exponent of the competitive party system, argues that the defense of one-party systems in Africa by non-African commentators shows a patronizing lack of confidence in the ability of Africans to operate democratic forms of government. 39 Socioeconomic

Development

Traditionalism versus Modernity. The NCNC and the Action Group, especially the latter, take a certain pride in the traditional institution of chieftaincy, which stands as a symbol of an authentic, indigenous political culture surviving in dignity beneath the weight of adopted institutions. Such pride in

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traditional forms is indulged, however, only to a degree deemed compatible with the attainment of the paramount goal of social and economic modernization; and, on balance, it would seem that both parties' approach to the institution of chieftaincy has been guided primarily by regard for its instrumental rather than its inherent value. 40 Only the N P C seems to look upon the preservation of traditional institutions and values as a significant part of its substantive goals. Although economic development and expansion of welfare services are also major N P C goals, the expression of these aspirations is seldom unaccompanied by references to claims of tradition. Thanks in part to the viability, thus far, of the emirate system, N P C leaders have not felt called upon to reconcile or to establish priorities among fundamental objectives; indeed, a fair conclusion to be drawn from various utterances would be that they anticipate the party's continued ability, at least in the larger emirates, to achieve substantial economic progress within the bounds of a largely traditional order, or at least under the auspices of the traditional ruling class. 41 Approaches to Development. Both the N C N C - N E P U and the Action Group profess socialistic articles of belief, and leading members of both admit to an avowed socialist or Marxist persuasion. The basic orientation of the N P C is avowedly nonsocialistic. For several reasons, however, all parties have nondoctrinaire attitudes toward concrete problems of development. In the first place, all parties, anxious to attract private foreign capital to the regions under their respective control, have disavowed any intention to nationalize existing foreign enterprise, and expatriate firms are increasingly responsive to the demand that Nigerian personnel be trained for their technical and managerial positions. Second, regardless of doctrinal propensities, all parties support p r i v a t e e n t e r p r i s e by i n d i g e n o u s N i g e r i a n s ; i n d e e d , N i g e r i a n entrepreneurial success commands widespread admiration as a manifestation of African development. Third, the nationalistic outlook of the Nigerian business elite induces it to support measures by the state which will promote development and ensure indigenous control over natural resources. Thus, all parties, in practice, pursue "mixed" programs which allow for both private and public participation, and they tend to evaluate programs by the results achieved rather than by the conformity of the measures adopted to ideological prescription. For all parties nationalism is a creed that is far more compelling than the dogmas of either socialism or capitalism. Foreign

Policy

A l l parties support Nigerian membership in the Commonwealth of Nations and the close relationship of Nigeria to the United Kingdom. A l l of them have expressed their determination to work for the abolition of racial and colonial oppression throughout A f r i c a . Both the A c t i o n Group and the N C N C - N E P U alliance are pledged to support the formation of a West African federal union and to initiate preliminary steps to that end in the

TABLE 3.4 Attitudes of Nigerian Parties on Major Issues Subject Political System Ideal

NPC

Limited democracy

NCNC-NEPU

Action Group (and allies)

Egalitarian democracy

Liberal democracy (postindependence shift toward egalitarian democracy)

Nature of the Nigerian union

Retention of present

Constitution with residual

by creation of new states

residual powers to

powers in the c e n t e r . . .

(beginning with Mid-West,

remain with regions

providing for no less

Middle Belt, and C-O-R

than eight autonomous

states); residual powers

states" 8

to remain with regions

Industrialization,

mechanization of

mechanization of

agriculture, social

agriculture, social

agriculture, social

and welfare services

and welfare services

Social and

Emphasis in relation to other goals Indigenous agency Private foreign capital

To degree consistent

welfare services with political ideal

Social and welfare services

and welfare services Social and welfare services

Primary

Primary

Mixed public and private

Mixed public and private

and traditional values Mixed public and private enterprise Guarantees and

enterprise Guarantees and

enterprise Guarantees and

inducements; no

inducements; no

inducements; no

nationalization of

nationalization of

nationalization of

existing enterprises Primary reliance on Sources of Western sources; technical and division on acceptability financial of Israel assistance Traditional Values

Foreign Policy Alignment versus neutralism

Industrialization,

mechanization of

Priority

versus modernity

Modification of structure

federal structure;

Social and Economic Development Program Industrialization,

Traditionalism

"A quasi-federal

Strong emphasis on continuity of traditional values

Pro-Western; formal nonalignment

existing enterprises

existing enterprises

All sources acceptable

All sources acceptable

Preoccupation with modernity; only slight emphasis on traditional forms

Preoccupation with modernity; some emphasis on traditional forms

Neutralism

Nonalignment; proWestern orientation (postindependence shift to neutralism)

PanAfricanism

West African union premature; functional cooperation preferred

Early union of West Africa

Eventual union of West Africa (postindependence shift to early union of West Africa)

United Arab Republic

Positive

Positive

Negative

Note: a From the program and manifesto of the NCNC-NEPU alliance for the federal election of 1959.

POLITICS & INTEGRATION

63

s p h e r e of e c o n o m i c cooperation and cultural interchange. Until 1 9 6 1 the Action G r o u p w a s reluctant to accept Pan-Africanism as an operative program, mainly on the ground of an objection to its recent connections with the Pan-Arab movement. In contrast, Pan-Africanism has always been a canon of N C N C doctrine. 4 2 T h e Northern Peoples' Congress is highly cautious in its approach to all f o r m s of interterritorial organization, but it is amenable to cultural and functional cooperation among African states. In world affairs, all parties support the United Nations and oppose both the involvement of Nigeria in non-African military blocs and the penetration of Africa by non-African military powers. Since independence, the nonalignment policy w h i c h A z i k i w e enunciated in the election c a m p a i g n of 1959 seems to have gained wide acceptance, although it should be noted that the Prime Minister's studied avoidance of the term "neutralism" may stem from the fact that the NPC, in 1959, officially repudiated that policy. Table 3.4 briefly summarizes the attitudes of the parties on major political issues at the time of independence, before the leftward trend of the Action Group became conspicuous. A glance up and down the columns suggests that it would at that time have been reasonable to range Nigerian parties along a conventional ideological spectrum from left to right. Thus, the various combinations of attitudes with regard to the political system, modernization, and foreign policy justify the conclusion that the N C N C occupies a left-wing position, the N P C the right-wing position, and the Action Group a center position. On the other hand, it is essential to observe that overt agreements and differences on goals and values fail to account either for the intensity of party competition in Nigeria or for the present basis of party alignments within and among the regions. It is indicative that after the federal elections of 1959 all possible combinations ( N P C - N C N C , N P C - A G , N C N C - A G ) of partners were considered by party leaders before a coalition was finally formed. Table 3.4 makes clear the great extent to which all parties agree on issues of social and economic development; and it also reveals that the N P C disagrees more often with both southern parties (and their allies) than the southern parties disagree with each other. Furthermore, the table suggests that of the two southern parties, the N P C w a s more frequently or more closely in accord with the Action Group, although the N C N C and the N P C are partners in the present federal coalition government. These seeming anomalies support a conclusion that at present forces other than party ideologies and programs generate the competitive system of political parties in Nigeria. THE PATTERN OF POLITICAL ACTION The key to the pattern of political party competition lies rather in the social and cultural pluralism of the Nigerian environment, and in the way in which political parties manipulate, exploit, and are affected by the social tensions that inevitably inhere in such an environment. Communal and class conflicts have

64

CLASS

been

identified previously

&

CULTURE

IN

NIGERIA

as the m o s t general

forms of social

tension,

and

these, i n d e e d , m a y b e related to the b r o a d pattern of party politics in N i g e r i a . Communal

t e n s i o n s are the m o s t o b v i o u s social factor a f f e c t i n g the

tribution of party strength in Nigeria. vulnerable

m a j o r party is to s o m e

to particularistic ethnic or religious sensibilities w h i c h

exploit for purposes political

Every

of electoral

support.

It i s n o a c c i d e n t

parties in all three r e g i o n s are f r e q u e n t l y built o n

communal

that

its

rivals

opposition

a foundation

p a r t i c i p a t i o n , a s o u r c e o f p o l i t i c a l s u p p o r t that is m o s t

factors for a margin of political

areas

advantage.

( T a b l e s 3 . 5 - 3 . 7 are i n t e n d e d to be illustrative rather than e x h a u s t i v e . )

Table

3 . 6 c i t e s i n s t a n c e s in w h i c h the internal c o h e s i o n o f the parties is r e d u c e d factional t e n d e n c i e s attributable to c o m m u n a l

T A B L E 3.5

of

rewarding

in the m i n o r i t y a r e a s o f all r e g i o n s . T a b l e 3 . 5 lists s e l e c t e d e x a m p l e s o f w h e r e parties rely on c o m m u n a l

dis-

degree

by

tensions, a l t h o u g h the party

is

Selected C o m m u n a l B a s e s of

Party S u p p o r t in S i t u a t i o n s of Interparty C o m p e t i t i o n Party

Eastern R e g i o n

A c t i o n G r o u p Most sections of the Ibibio people Efik people in Calabar Division Aro people of Enyong Division

N C N C - N E P U All sections of the Ibospeaking people alliance Annang people in Ikot Ekpene Division Qua people in Calabar Division

Northern Peoples' Congress

Note:

Ijaw people of Brass division who support the Niger Delta CongressNPC alliance

Western R e g i o n and L a g o s

Northern Region

Most sections of the Yoruba- Borau people of Bornu speaking people Division Itsekeri people in Warn Chamba people of Urban District Adamawa Division Okpe-Urhobo people in All peoples of Numan Western Urhobo District Division (except the and in Sapele Urban District Kanakuru) Birom people of Jos Division Tiv people of Tiv Division Arago people of Lafia Division Jarawa and Sayawa people of Bauchi Division Ekiti, Igbolo, and Igbomina Yoruba people of Ilorin Division Ngizim and Karekare Ilia District (Yoruba) a people of Fika Division Ilesha Urban District® (Yoruba) Oyo Yoruba of Modakeke" ward, Ife District Most Edo- and Ibo-speaking peoples of the midwest Urhobo settlers in Warn Urban District Hausa and Ibo settlers in Lagos and Ibadan

Ibadan Yoruba (Mabolaje Grand Alliance, an affiliate o f t h e N C N C until 1959) A minority of the Yoruba Muslims who support the National Emancipation League-NPC alliance

Kilba people of Adamawa Division Gwari people of Minna Division Strong Tijaniyya (Yan Wazifa) adherents of the eastern part of Sokoto, the southern part of Katsina, Adamawa, and Bauchi Divisions Peoples of the HausaFulani state system and the Bornu Emirate Igala people of Igala Division Idoma people of Idoma Division

t r a d i t i o n a l l y , t h e I l i a , I l e s h a , a n d O y o Y o r u b a s u b g r o u p s a r e all r i v a l s o f t h e I f e Y o r u b a .

.s ß 0

û

c o "Si u OS e u JC t: o Z

1

CL,

.a

H

•ca 3

a a

3

o tifi

e 0. -§

a i /T •S 8 1 ; 5 B. .g •2 =

§

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13

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Ü a o t

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§1 IS

POLITICS & INTEGRATION

67

dominant in that area. In all regions, as w e have noted, the vast majority of emergent- or traditionally dominant-class elements are drawn by their interests into the fold of the regional government party, where the rewards of administrative and commercial patronage are distributed. Significantly, this has seriously weakened all the "separate state" movements, inspired by sentiments primarily communal in nature. Indeed, all parties woo the cultural minorities within their domains by extending more than proportionate opportunities for political, economic, and educational advancement to the elites of minority groups. Instances in which political support is built primarily on a foundation of class allegiance are given in Table 3.7, as well as a few examples of cleavages between traditional communities and emergent-class elements in nonminority areas; prominent business and professional men almost invariably adhere to the government party, despite the hostility of local public opinion. In general, communal and class appeals represent alternative bases of political party action in given localities. Probably the most common form of political competition between political parties is class versus communal group, where one party represents class interests and the other invokes communal sentiments against a coalition of interests. Class conflict (i.e., social class versus social class) is chiefly manifested in the new urban areas of southern Nigeria and the lower north, where incipient class structures are distinguishable, and in the upper north, where the phenomenon of social stratification antedates modern social and political history, and where ideological rivalries are expressed largely in traditional terms. Many situations of political conflict seem, at first sight, to be concerned exclusively with ethnic tensions, but on closer investigation they turn out to be the result of an intermixture of communal tensions with developments that accompany a process of secularization. A common political conflict is that between the sons of the soil or the natives of an area and the strangers who settle in burgeoning towns for the sake of more rewarding occupations. A second form of conflict in new urban areas involves two or more nonindigenous groups of settlers, neither of which represents a traditionally cohesive community. Many of the manual and clerical workers in the principal cosmopolitan centers of Nigeria are Ibo settlers from the Eastern Region; they hail from districts where the N C N C is supported mainly on ethnic grounds. But, as a majority of all manual and clerical workers probably support the NCNC, both ethnic and class motivations are involved, inextricably, in the allegiance of these Ibo workers to the NCNC. Perhaps the most important point to be noted about the pattern of political party action in Nigeria is that, typically, communal and class tensions combine to produce particular situations of interparty competition and intraparty factionalism, and that of all the possible forms and permutations of social tension, simple communal conflict (i.e., traditional c o m m u n i t y v e r s u s traditional c o m m u n i t y ) is the least frequently encountered and is politically the least consequential.

68

CLASS & C U L T U R E IN

NIGERIA

CONCLUSION A few concluding observations may be pertinent for the study of political parties in an African setting. One observation concerns the current use of the term "tribalism" in the analysis of political dynamics in Africa. As far as Nigerian political parties are concerned, tribalism would seem to be a grossly inadequate if not a seriously misleading conceptual tool. The term almost invariably conjures up a picture of political behavior based essentially on ethnic factors, a picture that hardly does justice to the complexity of the factors that determine the behavior of Nigerian political parties. More seriously, the concept of tribalism fails to reveal the particular impact the ethnic factor may have on various local political situations in Nigeria. Ethnic solidarity or friction, for instance, is sometimes an aspect of communalism in its more deeply psychological Gemeinschaft sense, implying identification of a political party with a sacred social order, normally in the form of a response to the violation of that order—a phenomenon that ethnic sentiments alone are insufficient to produce. On the other hand, ethnic solidarity or friction in Nigeria, as in other (African and non-African) countries, may reflect and may even be produced by socioeconomic class solidarity or tension, which is devoid of that a-rational, spontaneous, mystic dimension of political behavior to which the concept of communalism suggested here refers. By failing to distinguish these different types of political reaction, both of which may involve ethnic factors, the term "tribalism" fails to explain or even to identify significant aspects of the bases and the strategies of Nigerian political parties. We have previously observed, and it is worth reiterating, that communal and class factors in conjunction typically create areas of political tension and vulnerability in Nigeria, and that these factors together govern the strategies of the major parties. In varying degrees, all parties capitalize on their chieftaincy assets, socialize their financial institutions, liberalize credit for their business-minded supporters, and activate the sympathies of peasant communities. Although the parties offer some choice in terms of ideological programs, policies and strategies are shaped to a large extent by the imperatives of electoral contests, and these are seldom decided on ideological issues. It is significant that communalism seems to have become more important as a political factor in Nigerian polities since the introduction of elections based on mass suffrage under the 1951 Constitution. To this extent, the course of party development lends support to the view that exacerbation of communal tensions results from the functioning of democratic competitive party systems in the type of pre-industrial environment presently characteristic of most African countries. A final, related observation is that the political form of the democratic political party seems able to sustain vastly different types of political regimes. In southern Nigeria the political party has served as an instrument of the political ascendancy of new elites produced by the complementary processes

POLITICS & INTEGRATION

69

of Western education, urbanization, and commercial development, whereas in northern Nigeria the political party has served equally well as the instrument of an ancien régime that has controlled and limited the political thrust of the "new men." The role of the political party in Nigeria has been determined, it would seem, less by the nature of the norms and the rules that formally govern the institution than by the nature of the underlying social and economic conditions in which the institution operates. POSTSCRIPT The context of the analysis above is the period before 1962; certain prominent features of the Nigerian political scene have changed since then, evidently without loss of its essential elements. The N C N C now forms the government in the Mid-West, the new fourth region of the federation. Predictably, the emergence of a fourth region reinforced sentiment in favor of the creation of others elsewhere, most notably in the so-called C-O-R area of the Eastern Region. On October 1, 1963, the federation assumed the new status of a republic, with an indirectly elected president as head of state instead of a governorgeneral, who had been nominally the representative of the British sovereign. The new office, like the old, is occupied by Sir Nnamdi Azikiwe, and is hardly less ceremonial in character. T h e transition to republican status w a s accompanied by abolition of the Judicial S e r v i c e C o m m i s s i o n (in which some had placed trust as an instrument of judicial independence) and the Privy Council (which before had rather anomalously represented a last legal resort beyond the S u p r e m e Court); otherwise the m o v e as such s e e m e d devoid of any significant implications for party politics. It is noteworthy, however, that an all-party conference convened by the Prime Minister in the summer of 1963, ostensibly to discuss constitutional modifications, considered and ultimately rejected (amidst impassioned defenses of libertarian principles in the Nigerian press) a proposal to introduce a preventive detention act, which presumably would have permitted imprisonment of persons suspected of " s u b v e r s i v e " activities, as in Ghana. Several prominent leaders, including the Prime Minister, afterward spoke out in favor of "national" or all-party governments in the regions as well as at the federation level, thus far without avail. Such proposals clearly stemmed, in part at least, from weariness with the strains and limits imposed on the effort aiming at national social and economic regeneration by a competitive party system, operating in an atmosphere of massive communal susceptibilities. Intense political controversy surrounded the new official census, initially undertaken in 1962. It w a s widely rumored that the first count yielded a majority in the southern regions, with obviously profound implications for the balance of power between the northem-based N P C and the other parties. (The new finding, had it been accepted, would have necessitated the redistribution

T A B L E 3.8 Results of Nigerian Elections, 1951-1964

Election and party Eastern Regional Election, 1951 NCNC United National Party Western Regional Election, 1951 Action Group NCNC Northern Regional Election, 1951 NPC Eastern Regional Election, 1953 NCNC National Independence Party United National Party Federal Election, Eastern Region, 1954 NCNC United National Independence Party Action Group Independents Federal Election, Western Region, 1954 NCNC Action Group Commoners' Liberal Party Federal Election, Northern Region, 1954 NPC Middle Zone League (allied with NPC) Idoma State Union (allied with NPC) Igbirra Tribal Union (allied with NPC) Middle Belt People's Party Action Group Independents Federal Election, Southern Cameroons, 1954 Kamerun National Congress Kamerun People's Party Federal Election, Lagos, 1954 NCNC Action Group Western Regional Election, 1956 Action Group NCNC Nigerian Commoners' Party Nigerian People's Party Dynamic Party Nigerian Commoners' Liberal Party Independents Northern Regional Election, 1956 NPC Independents allied with NPC Rival wings of United Middle Belt Congress NEPU-Bomu Youth Movement Alliance Action Group and Ilorin alliance Eastern Regional Election, 1957 NCNC Action Group United National Independence Party Independents

Vote a

Percent of total vote 3

Seats 65 4 45 30-35 b 64 c 72 9 3 32 4 3 3 23 18 1 79 2 2 1 1 1 4 5

1 1 623,826 584,556 5,133 3,029 4,841 5,401 64,388

48.3 45.3 0.4 0.2 0.4 0.4 5.0

48 32

100 7 11 9 4 63.26 10.75 6.32 19.67

64 13 5 2

T A B L E 3 . 8 (continued)

R e s u l t s of N i g e r i a n E l e c t i o n s , 1 9 5 1 - 1 9 6 4

Federal Election, 1959 Total NPC N C N C - N E P U alliance Action G r o u p Others East N C N C - N E P U alliance Action Group Small parties and independents Niger Delta Congress ( N P C ally) West Action Group N C N C - N E P U alliance NPC Small parties and independents Mabolaje of Ibadan Independents North NPC Action Group N C N C - N E P U alliance Small parties and independents Igbirra Tribal Union ( N P C ally) Independents (declared for NPC) Lagos N C N C - N E P U alliance Action Group NPC Small parties and independents Western Regional Election, 1960 Action Group N C N C - N E P U alliance Mabolaje of Ibadan ( N P C ally) Northern Regional Election, 1961 NPC Action Group N C N C - N E P U alliance Others Eastern Regional Election, 1961 NCNC Action Group D y n a m i c Party Independents Mid-Western Regional Election, 1964 NCNC Midwest Democratic Front (NPC ally) Others

2,027,194 2,592,629 1,986,839 578,893

28.2 36.1 27.6 8.1

134 89 73 16

1,246,984 445,144 237,626

64.6 23.1 12.3

58 14 1 1

933,680 758,462 32,960 162,107

49.5 40.2 1.7 8.6

33 21

1,994,045 559,878 525,575 179,022

61.2 17.2 16.1 5.5

134 25 8 7 1 6

61,608 48,137 189 138

55.9 43.8 0.2 0.1

2 1

901,887 240,075 68,007 344,451

8 7 1

53.6 d 36.2 10.1

79 33 10

69.2 14.6 14.2 1.8

160 9 1

58.0e 14.4 4.4 22.2«

106 15 5 20 53 11

Notes: "Blanks indicate that data are not available. Percentage calculations are based partly on J. P. Mackintosh, "Electoral Trends and the Tendency to a One-Party System in Nigeria," Journal of Commonwealth Political Studies I (Nov., 1962), 194-210. b Exact number not known c A s of November 18,1953 P e r c e n t a g e figures for the last three elections here tabulated, based on Mackintosh, op. cit., seem to reflect minor changes in party alignment since we made our original calculations. e Most of the independents were NCNC members who campaigned against party orders. If they are regarded as N C N C candidates, the NCNC won 80.2 per cent of the total vote.

72

CLASS & C U L T U R E IN

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of constituencies.) The federal government, made up of a coalition dominated by the NPC, promptly ordered a recount, which eventually placed the population of Nigeria at the surprisingly high figure of nearly 56 million (ninth largest in the world) and reaffirmed the north's predominant position. 43 Thus the NPC's prospects of retaining its present decisive power in national affairs are reaffirmed. The outcome was a bitter pill for the NPC's federal coalition partner, the NCNC, whose president, it is significant to note, immediately revived (in an address to his party's annual convention held just after the announcement of the final tabulation) the party's former advocacy of a federation consisting of a larger number of drastically reduced units, along the lines of the colonial administrative provinces. 4 4 These developments reflect the persistence of the crucial north-south cleavage. The most apparently far-reaching changes occurred in the wake of the political crisis which, starting in 1962, swept the Western Region. (The initial circumstances are briefly recounted above.) The Action Group's embarrassment in connection with the investigation of its financial negotiations was overshadowed in September, 1962, by the far graver indictment that certain party leaders, including Chief Awolowo himself, were engaged in a plot forcibly to overthrow the Nigerian government. (The complexity of the issues arising out of the prolonged ensuing trial precludes discussion of them here.) Finally, in August, 1963, a number of convictions for treasonable felony were handed down; Awolowo's sentence was ten years in prison. In the meantime, the Akintola faction of the Action Group had emerged as a full-fledged breakaway party—the United Peoples' Party—and assumed power in the west, with Akintola as premier, through a coalition with some elements of the former NCNC opposition. Evidently the trial soon further disrupted the Action Group ranks; in March, 1964, S. L. Akintola announced the formation under his leadership of a new party which incorporated some highly influential exleaders of both the Action Group and the NCNC. Significantly, the new party borrowed its name f r o m an illustrious predecessor—Herbert Macaulay's Nigerian National Democratic Party 4 5 —and its familiar symbol (a hand) from a more recent political entity—the Mabolaje of Ibadan. 46 The coming federal election of 1964 will test the new N N D P ' s now-uncertain popular foundations. If the party's choice of name and symbol may be assumed to indicate the nature of its intended political strategy, this election is certain to offer a new context in which the forces of class interests and communalism suffuse the institutions of democratic government in Nigeria. NOTES 1. K. M. Buchanan and J. C. Pugh, Land and People in Nigeria (London 1955), 94. 2. James S. Coleman, Nigeria: Background to Nationalism (Berkeley and Los Angeles 1958), 227-228. 3. On the theory of Zikism, as formulated by its originator, see A. A. Nwafor

POLITICS & INTEGRATION

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Orizu, Without Bitterness (New York 1944). 4. See Obafemi Awolowo, Awo: The Autobiography of Chief Obafemi Awolowo (London 1960), 217, 220-221. 5. The evolution of congress-type associations into political parties for electoral and parliamentary purposes is the major theme of Thomas Hodgkin's chapter, "Parties and Congresses," in his seminal work, Nationalism in Colonial Africa (London 1956), 139-168. 6. Scathing criticisms of this kind have been voiced by the Nigerian Trades Union Congress, the recently organized Nigerian Youth Congress, and the small Dynamic Party, in addition to radical elements associated with the major political parties and their allies. 7. "I r e s i g n e d b e c a u s e I f a n a t i c a l l y s h a r e t h e v i e w t h a t t h e N a t i v e Administrations, as they stand today, coupled with their too trumpeted 'fine tradition' are woefully hopeless in solving our urgent educational, social, economic, political and even religious problems.. . . "I am prepared to be called by any name. Call me a dreamer or call me a revolutionary, call me a crusader or anything you will. I have seen a light on the far horizon and I intend to march into its full circle either alone, or with anyone who cares to go with me" (Aminu Kano, "My Resignation," Daily Comet, Nov. 20, 1950, 1, 4). 8. Nigerian Citizen, Oct. 25, 1951, 6. The intervention of the Citizen and of the vernacular newspaper Gaskiya Ta Fi Kwabo against the NEPU was bitterly resented by the party. Both papers were nominally independent, being controlled by a corporation set up by the government. 9. Thus the new Northern House of Assembly was not originally organized on a party basis, nor were ministers so appointed. The House remained in this state until the government acknowledged control by the NPC in December, 1953. 10. Table 3.1 does not reveal the concentrated effort, beginning in 1958, to recruit non-Yoruba northerners into the Action Group, at least three of whom were then members of the federal Executive Council. On the other hand, this tabulation omits some of the most important Action Group leaders of Yoruba nationality w h o were not members of the executive and includes some non-Yoruba members of comparatively minor importance. 11. Coleman, op. cit., 378-383. These figures do not imply graduation. In 1959 there were no university graduates either in the Northern House of Assembly, or among members of the federal House of Representatives from that region. 12. This result is confirmed by tabulation of the occupational backgrounds of party leaders at the local level in 1958. Of 228 leaders of the N C N C in eight urban areas of the Eastern and Western regions, 54.9 per cent belong to these categories, as do 68.3 per cent of 202 Action Group leaders in Lagos and twelve other townships or local areas. (The figure for the Action Group corrects the false impression given by the figures in table 3.3, that N C N C rather than Action Group leadership is more elitist in composition.) Of 195 members of provincial and divisional executive committees of the NPC in eight major emirates, 85.6 per cent belong to the occupational elite category. 13. The Study of Man (New York 1936), 115. 14. S. Ottenberg, " I b o Receptivity to C h a n g e , " in W. R. Bascom and M. J. Herskovits (eds.), Continuity and Change in African Cultures (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1958), 130-143. 15. "It is the prerogative of the Oba (king), in consultation with his Chiefs, to confer a chieftaincy title on any citizen who in his judgment possesses the necessary qualities. The candidate for a chieftaincy title must be an outstanding person in the community, possessing good character and integrity, and fairly well-to-do. . . . The appointment of educated, enlightened, well-to-do or prominent young persons as

74

CLASS & C U L T U R E IN

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Chiefs is a modern innovation, and it is an eloquent proof of the importance attached to western education and culture in present-day Yoruba society" (Awolowo, op. cit., 8). 16. In 1960 there were about 650 legislators in the four parliaments of Nigeria at stipends of £800 per annum, about 55 junior ministers (parliamentary secretaries) at stipends of £1,500 on the average, and about 75 senior ministers at £3,000. For a few of them, such as barristers whose private practices net more than £3,000 per annum, ministerial service has involved a financial sacrifice, but for the vast majority of ministers and legislators, politics has been enormously rewarding in terms of status and income. Indeed, this has been an underlying cause of intraparty conflict. Since 1955 the N C N C Youth Association has agitated for the reduction of ministerial, legislative, and administrative salaries in order to narrow the income gap between the privileged political class and the poor. In 1957 the average per capita income for Nigeria as a whole was estimated at £25-£29. 17. M. G. Smith, " T h e Hausa System of Social Status," Africa, XXIX (July 1959), 251. 18. Six of these, however, belong by origin to the sarakuna class, having taken up commerce after losing administrative office. 19. Although legal slavery was abolished in northern Nigeria in 1900, the social designation of slave (bawa; pi. bavi) persisted, and the son of a slave (dimajo or bacucane; pis., dimajai, cucunawa) continues today to be so identified in terms of traditional society. See M. G. Smith, Government in Zazzau, 1800-1950 (London 1960), 253, 254 ff., and "Slavery and Emancipation in Two Societies (Jamaica and Zaria)," Social and Economic Studies (published by the Institute for Social and Economic Research, Mona, Jamaica), 3, 4 (1954). 20. Maurice Duverger, Political Parties, trans. Barbara and Robert North (New York 1954), 124-132; Ferdinand Tonnies, Fundamental Concepts of Sociology (Gemeinschaft und Gesellschaft), translated and supplemented by Charles P. Loomis (New York 1940). 21. "Sake Tsarin Jami'iyyan Mutanen Arewa, " NPC Secretariat, Dec. 13, 1953. 22. R. T. McKenzie, British Political Parties (New York 1955), 385. 23. S e e p . 26. 24. An exception was the office of "Father of the Party" abolished in 1963. It was personal to Dr. Akinola Maja, a medical practitioner, who was formerly president of the Nigerian Youth M o v e m e n t (1944-1951), chairman of the all-party National Emergency C o m m i t t e e (1949-1950), chairman of the Board of Directors of the National Bank of Nigeria, and president of the Egbe Omo Oduduwa. 25. See p. 25. The Zikist Movement was declared an unlawful society by the colonial government in 1950. It was succeeded by the Freedom Movement and other sectarian radical groups before the N C N C Youth Association was organized in 1952. 26. See S. J. Hogben, The Muhammedan Emirates of Northern Nigeria (London 1930), 48-52. 27. Party records indicate that in 1958-59 only the Action Group enjoyed a buoyant f i n a n c i a l c o n d i t i o n ; the p a r t y b u d g e t e d an u n r i v a l e d s u m — i n e x c e s s of £290,000—for its operations in all parts of Nigeria. N C N C accounts were then in deficit, and N P C revenues were close to the relatively negligible figure of £15,000. It is reported that the Action Group alone spent a sum in excess of £1 million on the federal election campaign of 1959. 28. Dr. Eme O. Awa has observed that as yet "no rational effort" has been made in the Eastern or the Western Region to reconcile these important "elements of traditional a u t h o r i t y " with the structure of local g o v e r n m e n t ( " L o c a l G o v e r n m e n t Problems in a Developing Community [Nigeria]," paper read at the International C o n f e r e n c e on R e p r e s e n t a t i v e G o v e r n m e n t and National Progress, University

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College, Ibadan, March 16-23,1959, 8-9). 29. In 1958 the Eastern Region Marketing Board refused to reappoint as soybean buying agent a previously licensed firm headed by the leading financial backer of the Democratic Party of Nigeria and the Cameroons, formed in opposition to Azikiwe by ex-members of the NCNC. 30. W. T. Newlyn and D. C. Rowan, Money and Banking in British Colonial Africa (Oxford 1954), 217 n. 1; The Economic Development of Nigeria, International Bank for Reconstruction and Development (Baltimore 1955), 158-159. 31. Since 1951 the representation of organized labor in the N C N C National Executive Committee has been relatively minor and confined primarily to the conservative wing of labor leadership. Practicing trade-unionists were never prominent among the leaders of the Action Group, although several trade-union leaders are understood to have Action Group sympathies, and radical intellectuals with tradeunion connections are numbered in the Action Group fold. Oddly, the leading example of a trade union in alignment with a major political party is provided by the Northern Mineworkers' Union, a virtual instrumentality of the Northern Peoples' Congress, the least socialistic or laboristic of the major parties. 32. For example, in 1958 the effective power system of the Port Harcourt N C N C extended to ethnic-group associations affiliated with the Port Harcourt Ibo Union. Among those to which members of the executive committees of the N C N C branch and Youth Association belonged were the Nnewi Patriotic Union, the Orlu Divisional Union, the Orlu Youth League, the Oguta Union, the Owerri Divisional Union, the Mbasi Clan Union, the Bende Divisional Union, the Ikwerri Development Union, the Okigwe Union, and the Abiriba Improvement Union. 33. The NPC's policy of "no entangling alliances with southern parties," and the NPC government's inclusion of certain religious transgressions in the definition of criminal offenses under the Northern Penal Code, are areas in which the mallams have undoubtedly wielded great influence. 34. The term means those who practice the litany of Wazifa. For this and other doctrinal and practitional aspects of the Tijaniyya, see J. Spencer Trimingham, Islam in West Africa (Oxford 1959), 99-100. 35. The NEPU member of the preceding Northern House of Assembly for the constituency of Kaura Namoda (in eastern Sokoto) is an avid Tijani adherent, and in this and other parts of the upper north (e.g., southern Katsina, Argungu, northern Adamawa) membership in the two organizations tends to be reciprocal. 36. In 1961 the federal parliament, with the approval of all parties, passed a resolution providing for the creation of a Mid-West state out of the Western Region only. In the view of the Action Group this step would strengthen its demands for the creation of a Calabar-Ogoja-Rivers state in the east and a Middle Belt state in the north. But the A c t i o n G r o u p o p p o s e d legislation i m p l e m e n t i n g the M i d - W e s t State Resolution of 1962 because it disagreed with the inclusion of certain areas. 37. During the debate on the 1959 Northern Penal Code Bill in the Northern House of Assembly, the northern premier is quoted as having stated: "As long as [my] party, the NPC, is in power in the Region, it. . . [will] not legalize what God has forbidden" (Daily Times, Sept. 3, 1959, 3). 38. See Dennis Osadebay, "Next? Nigeria Needs a One Party System," ibid. Nov. 18, 1960, 5. Osadebay, a well-known libertarian, formerly served as national legal adviser to the NCNC. He succeeded Azikiwe as president of the Nigerian Senate and became premier of the Mid-West Region in 1964. 39. Op. cit., 302-304. 40. Awa, op. cit., has suggested that the recent "resurgence" of chieftaincy in the Eastern Region—the establishment of the Eastern House of Chiefs and provision for traditional representation on local government councils—is attributable in large part to

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the appeal of examples set in the west and the north, where partisan chiefs have enhanced the electoral strength of the ruling parties. A celebrated instance of a southern party's limited tolerance of chieftaincy was the deposition in the mid-1950s of one of the most important traditional rulers in the Western Region—the Alafin of Oyo—by the Action Group government because of his opposition to party policies and his alleged culpability for the instigation of political violence. 41. E.g., the northern premier, in a speech given at Sokoto on March 15, 1959, when the region achieved self-government, said: "When we survey all the phenomenal changes that have occurred in our recent history we are gratified with an important factor in our way of life, that quality of the Northern peoples—an ability to absorb, adapt, or renovate new ideas without completely discarding [our] social inheritance, even despite the attractions of glittering alien systems. In so doing we are proud to follow the old Hausa saying 'It is better to repair than to build afresh.' I am told that this belief has helped other nations to greatness and I have a firm conviction that, God willing, it will do so for us." 42. "Pan-Africanism is a desirable philosophy and a long term objective. It is a philosophy for black peoples and peoples of African descent to unite and find their common destiny. As a philosophy, it is anticommunistic or ought to be so; but as an objective of policy, it is a clarion call made by Africans themselves for the liberation of all African peoples, racial equality and racial tolerance—the most passionate and yet the most constitutional appeal made in the history of modern nationalism" (policy paper of the National Council of Nigeria and the Cameroons on foreign policy, Daily Times, Oct. 23,1959). 43. The margin of the north's majority is now somewhat reduced. The total population of 55,653,821 is distributed as follows: Northern Region, 29,777,986; Eastern R e g i o n , 1 2 , 3 8 8 , 6 4 6 ; Western R e g i o n , 1 0 , 2 7 8 , 5 0 0 ; Mid-West R e g i o n , 2,533,337; and the federal capital, Lagos, 675,352. These figures are preliminary, but only minor changes are anticipated in the forthcoming official publication. 44. West Africa, Feb. 29, 1964, 231. 45. S e e p . 24. 46. See p. 19.

4 Contradictions in the Nigerian Political System Richard L. Sklar

There are three basic contradictions in the Nigerian political system. They may be stated briefly at the outset. First, the machinery of g o v e r n m e n t is basically r e g i o n a l i z e d , but the party m a c h i n e r y — t h e organization of the masses—retains a strong trans-regional and anti-regional tendency. Secondly, the main opposition party has relied upon the support of a class-conscious regional p o w e r g r o u p in its drive against the s y s t e m of r e g i o n a l p o w e r . Depending upon a regional section of the political class to effect a shift in the class content of power, it w a s really asking that section to commit suicide. This contradiction produced a crisis in the Western Region which might easily be repeated elsewhere. Thirdly, the constitutional allocation of power is inconsistent with the real distribution of power in society. T h e constitution gives dominant power to the numerical majority—i.e., under existing conditions, to the north—but the real distribution of power is determined by technological development, in which respect the south is superior.

INTRODUCTION On March 27, 1951, a meeting composed of representatives of rival factions of the Nigerian nationalist movement was held in Lagos under the auspices of an ad hoc Committee of National Rebirth. The principal conveners were associated with Dr. N n a m d i A z i k i w e and his party, the N a t i o n a l C o u n c i l of Nigeria and the C a m e r o o n s ( N C N C ) . N o one as yet has p r o v i d e d a full account of this somewhat obscure but highly significant event in Nigerian party history. We do k n o w that the committee failed in its attempt to unify the divided nationalist movement of southern Nigeria. Its critics said that it was little more than a devious design to inveigle opponents of the N C N C — i n c l u d ing members of the Nigerian Youth Movement and its offshoot, the recently s u r f a c e d A c t i o n G r o u p — i n t o a united f r o n t that w o u l d be d o m i n a t e d by A z i k i w e and his political friends. To be sure, the committee did at length " s u m m o n " the N C N C to implement its program for "national rebirth." At the committee's first meeting, the aims of the conveners were criticized Originally published in the Journal of Modern African Studies 3, 2 (1965), 201-213. Reprinted by permission of the author and Cambridge University Press.

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trenchantly by a highly influential member of the Action Group, namely the late Chief Bode Thomas of Oyo, who is reported to have spoken forcefully in favor of the organization of regionalized political parties. 1 However, his colleague and leader, Obafemi A w o l o w o , is said to have given serious and sympathetic consideration to the committee's proposal of political unity. In retrospect, Thomas and A w o l o w o appear to have represented rival schools of thought which were never fully reconciled within the Action Group.

CULTURAL NATIONALISM AND REGIONAL

POWER

Dr. A z i k i w e has observed that among the founders of the A c t i o n Group, Chief Thomas w a s the leading exponent of a "theory of regionalism." 2 O f course, Chief A w o l o w o ' s contribution to regionalist thought is better known; strictly speaking, however, he was never an ardent regionalist, certainly not in the Thomastic sense in which regionalism is meaningful in Nigeria. His early book, Path to Nigerian Freedom,

defends a principle that tends to undermine

the Nigerian system of regional power, namely the right of every cultural nationality group to autonomy and self-determination. 3 Basically, A w o l o w o was concerned to demonstrate that Nigeria is and should be regarded by nationalists and colonial o f f i c i a l s alike as being a multi-national state. The various Nigerian nationalities, he observed, have their own indigenous constitutions. These African "constitutions," he argued, have been perverted by alien rule to the detriment of public w e l f a r e and social progress. In particular, the traditionally "limited" or "constitutional" governments of his own nationality group, the Yoruba, were despotized by the colonial rulers. Reform was overdue, but, he insisted, it should be accepted that the constitution of each cultural nationality is its own "domestic concern." Every such nationality is entitled and should be encouraged to develop its own political institutions within a federal framework. Furthermore, he asserted, it is the "natural right" of the educated minority of each cultural group "to lead their fellow nationals into higher political development." These ideas, namely political reform at the local level, unity at the cultural nationality level, federalism at the national level, and the assumption of leadership by a broadly based educated elite, were incorporated in a program for political action by opponents of the N C N C in Western Nigeria. Their first step was to organize an all purpose association for persons of Yoruba nationality, named, after their legendary ancestor, the Society of the Descendants of Oduduwa. Later, the most militant among them organized a political vanguard which they called the Action Group. In principle, A w o l o w o ' s doctrine holds that every cultural nationality, irrespective of size, is entitled to separate statehood within the Nigerian federation. In practice, however, the members of a major cultural nationality group, such as the Yoruba in Western Nigeria, were easily reconciled to the existence of b i g and culturally diverse regions within w h i c h their g r o u p

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would be dominant. This was equally true for members of the Ibo nationality in Eastern Nigeria, and the Hausa nationality in Northern Nigeria. In their respective regions, the leaders of these d o m i n a n t nationality g r o u p s controlled the means of access to power and wealth. Naturally, and justifiably to a degree, they tended to equate their private interests with the objective interests of their nationality groups; conversely, they exploited the sentiments of their groups to promote their private interests. Political parties which were identified with the interests of particular nationality groups tended to reflect the class structures of those groups. Inevitably, such parties were used to promote class interests in the acquisition and retention of regional power. PARTY AND CLASS For a decade prior to independence, the nationalist movement in Nigeria was headed by three political parties, each being rooted primarily in the predominant nationality group of a governmental region. In every region, the party waxed fat in its house of patronage. It had money, favors, jobs, and honors to distribute among those w h o would support it. To a large extent, these regional patronage systems were based on regional marketing boards, which had been set up to purchase export crops f r o m f a r m e r s at stabilized prices for sale abroad. Concretely, the marketing boards have accumulated trading profits which have been used by the regional g o v e r n m e n t s to p r o m o t e e c o n o m i c development. Specifically, they supply capital to regional development corporations, which undertake agricultural and industrial projects independently and in partnership with other g o v e r n m e n t s or with private interests. In all regions, these corporations and their related loan agencies are managed by politically reliable a d m i n i s t r a t o r s . T h e s a m e is true of those c o m m e r c i a l banks which are owned and operated by regional governments. Invariably, the vast majority of those w h o receive or hope to receive loans f r o m the boards or the banks are attracted by powerful inducements to join or support the regional government party; insofar as they prosper, they may be expected to support the party financially. The same may be said of c o m m e r c i a l contractors w h o work for the regional g o v e r n m e n t s and their statutory corporations. F u r t h e r m o r e , the m a r k e t i n g b o a r d s are required to license qualified firms and individuals as certified agents to purchase specified crops from the primary producers. While such licenses are granted on the basis of commercial criteria, political considerations are not always negligible, and it is not u n k n o w n for the w h i p of commercial patronage to crack over the head of a politically obtuse businessman. W h o are the masters of the regional governments? High-ranking politicians, senior administrators, m a j o r chiefs, lords of the economy, distinguished members of the learned professions—in short, m e m b e r s of the emergent and dominant class. This class is an actual social aggregate, engaged in class action and characterized by the growing sense of class consciousness. It may

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be termed the "political c l a s s , " as defined by Gaetano M o s c a , 4 in that its members have controlling positions in the dominant institutions of society. The value of this term is magnified in the analysis of a developing country, like Nigeria, where it may serve to suggest that political power is the primary force that creates economic opportunity and determines the pattern of social stratification. This is not to say that all members of the political class have been associated with or dependent upon a governing party; nor, obviously, is every militant (active and dedicated) party member also a m e m b e r of the dominant class. But the well-entrenched regional government party has been a veritable engine of c l a s s formation. We may say, with Milovan Djilas, that the leaders of the ruling parties constitute the core of the political class. 5 Within the major parties, especially the old nationalist parties of southern Nigeria, c l e a v a g e s have developed between the " h a v e s " and the "have nots." While r e g i o n a l i s m is a characteristic attitude of the political c l a s s , antiregionalism is the logical posture of the ideological opponents of that class. Here we perceive a contradiction in the political system. The "machinery of g o v e r n m e n t " — t h e system of governmental power, including the power of patronage—is largely and basically regionalized, but the "machinery of politics"—the party system, i.e., the organization of the m a s s e s — c o n t i n u e s to exhibit a strong trans-regional and anti-regional tendency. This contradiction is related to another involving the ideology and tactics of opposition to the Federal Government. T H E I D E O L O G Y AND TACTICS OF O P P O S I T I O N Few developments of recent Nigerian history have excited more wonderment than the transformation of Chief Awolowo from a moderate " F a b i a n " socialist into a fervent opponent of neo-imperialistic capitalism and domestic class privilege. Various explanations c o m e to mind. In psychological ideological terms it might be suggested that Awolowo never b e c a m e a typically classconscious politician, i.e., he never developed strong loyalties to his class. A s we have noted above, his distinctive contribution to the Action Group's theory of regionalism w a s a doctrine of self-determination for cultural nationalities rather than a doctrine of regional power. He was always more of a "federalist" than a "regionalist," although this distinction may have been too subtle to grasp during most of the 1950s. A person of deep conviction and pragmatic temperament, he could and did develop ideologically to meet the challenges of post-colonial society. Another explanation is couched in terms of political opportunism, i.e., the logic of his position as Leader of the Opposition. It may have appeared politically necessary to champion the cause of radical anti-regionalism—the viewpoint of social and political protest—if ever he hoped to lead the Action Group to power. In any case, the Action Group rapidly developed a flagrantly split personality. A s the Federal Opposition, it tried to be the chief spokesman

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81

for opponents of the political class. As a governing party in the Western Region, it was identified with indulgence toward the social and political status quo. The "federal" faction, led by Awolowo, wanted the Action Group to intensify its opposition to the regional power groups that controlled the Federal G o v e r n m e n t . T h e " r e g i o n a l " faction, led by the Premier, S. L. Akintola, favored a general settlement with the other regional power groups and the formation of a national government at the federal level that would include all the regionally dominant parties. This rupture was exposed at the A c t i o n G r o u p c o n g r e s s of F e b r u a r y 1962. In h i s p r e s i d e n t i a l a d d r e s s Awolowo admitted, "openly for once," the existence of "real and dangerous contradictions" within the party. The basic contradiction was manifest in Awolowo's own tactical position: he relied upon a class-conscious regional power group to support a nation-wide movement of the "have-nots." Previously, there had been a real basis for class collaboration within the party. It was money: members of the political class generally wanted to make it, while the party militants wanted to spend it. But the costs of competition were not, in fact, being defrayed by philanthropic members of the party. For the most part, they were being borne indirectly by the people of the Western Region. The £4 million or so diverted from the Western Region Marketing Board to the Action Group via the National Investment and Properties Company represents a fraction of what went down the political drain between 1959-62. A comprehensive statement of the political account would require a study of the operations of various governmental agencies in order to calculate the hidden political costs of commercial loans, contracts, personal allowances, and so on. 6 Awolowo testified in court that his party spent about £300,000 per annum for organizational purposes. In addition, large sums were expended on elections: the Action Group was reported to have spent about £1 million on the federal election of 1959; it fought three costly regional elections in 1 9 6 0 - 6 1 and numerous local elections. Can a developing country which depends heavily on public capital formation afford to foot the bill of modern party competition? The Coker Commission found that the Western Region Marketing Board had transferred so much money to the Regional Government for various purposes, including politically tinged objects of dubious economic value, that it had to borrow in order to perform its own routine operations. 7 If the public had to pay such a price, it seemed only logical for a socialist party to insist upon a reciprocal sacrifice by members of the political class. On ideological grounds, therefore, Awolowo demanded austerity measures in respect of the emoluments and allowances of politicians. Small wonder if his more conservative colleagues said that he had fallen into the hands of "communists." Akintola merely expressed a widespread doubt among members of the political class of Western Nigeria when he questioned the wisdom of spending so freely to dislodge the political classes of the other regions. Now we have identified a second contradiction in the political system of

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NIGERIA

post-colonial Nigeria, to wit, that the opposition party depended upon a section of the political class to effect a shift in the class content of power. As a tactical matter, therefore, Awolowo had to protect his own regional base while he undertook to assault the regional bases of the Federal Government parties. In September 1960, he obtained permission from the federal executive council of the Action Group to set up a secret committee on tactics to cope with anticipated moves by the Federal Government which might m e n a c e the Action Group's base of power in the Western Region. 8 Some 30 months later, during his trial for the commission of a treasonable felony, Awolowo described the work of this committee as being strictly legal and largely precautionary rather than retaliatory in nature. 9 The prosecution alleged to the contrary that the committee had been set up by Awolowo specifically to engineer a coup d'état. Ultimately, this contention was accepted by the courts. 1 0 It w o u l d not be s u r p r i s i n g if s o m e leaders of the A c t i o n G r o u p had thought that a coup d'état was the most logical alternative to positive cooperation with the Federal Government parties. 1 1 They may have despaired of ever coming to power by means of the ballot box, especially after the disheartening performances of their party in the Northern and Eastern regional elections of 1961. (In May 1961, the Action Group obtained nine seats in the Northern House of Assembly to 156 won by the Northern Peoples' Congress; in November the Action Group won a mere 15 seats in the Eastern House of Assembly to 106 by the renamed National Convention of Nigerian Citizens and 25 won by other parties.) In the light of previous declarations by spokesmen for the Federal G o v e r n m e n t coalition, to the effect that the Federal Government could, in the event of emergency, dissolve a regional legislature and appoint a caretaker administration, 1 2 members of the Action Group may have discerned the choice before them in a nutshell: "Join 'em or fight ' e m . " Even Awolowo no longer expected the Action Group to win a Federal election on its own. He counted on the formation of a "progressive alliance" that would include the main body of the N C N C in addition to opposition elements in the Northern Region. But the issue between Awolowo and his critics within the party was not simply tactical in nature, and it could not be resolved by a tactical compromise. The Action Group had come to an ideological breaking point, with the class content of power in question. From the standpoint of the political class, A w o l o w o had b e c o m e "irresponsible"; in its court of political j u d g e m e n t he w a s guilty of "constructive treason" (or action that was certain to injure it), for which the classic penalty is anticipatory retaliation (or preventive defense). THE RESURGENCE OF REGIONALISM While many m e m b e r s of the political class of Western Nigeria questioned the wisdom of A w o l o w o ' s determination to keep up his good fight, they could not calculate its worth simply in material or class value-laden terms. T h e y

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w e r e , a f t e r all, i n t e n s e l y p r o u d of their p a r t y a n d its l e a d e r ; they w a n t e d h i m to b e c o m e P r i m e M i n i s t e r and they w e r e d e e p l y p a i n e d by their o w n d i s a f f e c tion f r o m h i m . T h e y c o u l d not b e t r a y h i m w i t h o u t d e s t r o y i n g a part of t h e m s e l v e s . U n t i l t h e c r i s i s of M a y 1 9 6 2 , m o s t of t h e p a r t y " e l d e r s " — t h e o l d guard—stood behind A w o l o w o while they counselled moderation

and

restraint. Eventually, they m a d e their p e a c e with the triumphant regional Premier. Typically, they d r o p p e d out of the A c t i o n G r o u p and a f f i l i a t e d w i t h a new and technically nonpartisan Yoruba cultural organization, called the S o c i e t y of t h e D e s c e n d a n t s of O l o f i n (said to b e t h e p r o p e r n a m e of t h e lege n d a r y O d u d u w a ) . If t h e y did n o t a c t u a l l y j o i n A k i n t o l a ' s n e w p a r t y ( t h e U n i t e d P e o p l e ' s P a r t y ) , at least t h e y a c c e p t e d t h e e s s e n c e of his t h e o r y of regionalized political organization. W h i l e t h e A c t i o n G r o u p w a s r e d u c e d to a h a r d c o r e of l o y a l i s t s , t h e N C N C j o i n e d w i t h t h e U P P to f o r m a coalition g o v e r n m e n t in t h e W e s t e r n R e g i o n . N o n e t h e l e s s , a s u b s t a n t i a l part of the N C N C had b e e n w o n o v e r to A w o l o w o ' s p r o p o s a l of a " p r o g r e s s i v e " alliance and they u r g e d their party to r e a s s e r t its t r a d i t i o n a l i d e n t i t y as t h e m a j o r p a r t y of r a d i c a l , e q u a l i t a r i a n d e m o c r a c y . In t h e W e s t e r n R e g i o n , h o w e v e r , a n d in t h e n e w l y c r e a t e d Midwestern R e g i o n — a n N C N C stronghold—old-line N C N C leaders were hostile to the idea of an a l l i a n c e w i t h their old e n e m y , the A c t i o n G r o u p . B u t p r e s s u r e f o r a r e a l i g n m e n t of t h e p a r t i e s m o u n t e d as t e n s i o n

increased

b e t w e e n t h e N C N C and its n o r t h e r n p a r t n e r in t h e F e d e r a l G o v e r n m e n t coalition. T h a t coalition w a s s t r a i n e d to near b r e a k i n g p o i n t w h e n t h e N C N C - c o n trolled g o v e r n m e n t s of t h e E a s t e r n and M i d w e s t e r n R e g i o n s c h a l l e n g e d t h e a c c u r a c y of t h e 1 9 6 3 c e n s u s results w h i c h p r e s e r v e d t h e N o r t h e r n R e g i o n ' s p o p u l a t i o n e d g e o v e r the rest of t h e c o u n t r y a n d , c o n s e q u e n t l y , its n u m e r i c a l s u p r e m a c y in t h e H o u s e of R e p r e s e n t a t i v e s . 1 3 At this point, w e encounter a third, possibly the most acute, contradiction in the N i g e r i a n p o l i t i c a l s y s t e m . C o n s t i t u t i o n a l l y , P a r l i a m e n t is s u p r e m e ; and Parliament is controlled by the dominant party of the Northern Region. But in terms of its e d u c a t i o n a l and t e c h n o l o g i c a l d e v e l o p m e n t , N o r t h e r n N i g e r i a is retarded in comparison with the south. 1 4 T h e Northern Region still relies heavily upon expatriates for a d m i n i s t r a t i v e assistance, and p e r s o n s of northern origin c o n s t i t u t e a v e r y s m a l l m i n o r i t y in the h i g h e r c i v i l s e r v i c e of t h e F e d e r a l Government, which is now overwhelmingly Nigerian. Therefore, northern control of the Federal G o v e r n m e n t , based on the p o p u l a t i o n principle, is difficult for many southern N i g e r i a n s to accept, especially in the light of their m i s g i v i n g s about the accuracy of the population count in the Northern Region, not to mention their general lack of c o n f i d e n c e in the fairness of elections in that region. W h i l e t h e N o r t h e r n P e o p l e ' s C o n g r e s s is d o m i n a n t in all p r o v i n c e s of N o r t h e r n N i g e r i a , t h e p o l i t i c a l s t r u c t u r e of t h a t r e g i o n is f a r f r o m b e i n g m o n o l i t h i c . O n t h e contrary, t h e n o r t h e r n political c l a s s is h i g h l y v u l n e r a b l e to political attack at v a r i o u s p o i n t s , 1 5 and n o r t h e r n leaders, w h o are traditionally s e n s i t i v e t o t h e t h r e a t ( o r b u g b e a r ) of " s o u t h e r n d o m i n a t i o n , " h a v e

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resented the continuous efforts by southern-based parties to exploit their political w e a k n e s s e s . L o g i c a l l y , the northern l e a d e r s , n o t a b l y P r e m i e r Ahmadu Bello, the Sardauna of Sokoto, supported Akintola, who promised to respect the principle of regional security, in the crisis that c o n v u l s e d the Action Group in 1962. Naturally, Akintola reciprocated by supporting the northern position in the census controversy. At this juncture, all but two of the eleven N C N C Western R e g i o n a l Ministers bolted from their party and rallied to Premier Akintola's standard in the f o r m a t i o n o f a n e w r e g i o n a l p a r t y , n a m e d the N i g e r i a n N a t i o n a l Democratic Party, to which their supporters in L a g o s also adhered. Thereupon, N C N C loyalists in the Western Region formed an alliance with the Action Group, which still appeared to be the most popular party in the R e g i o n , despite the decline of its contingent in the House of Assembly to a doughty band of 27 (out of a total membership of 90). Meanwhile, opposition parties in the Northern Region, principally the Nigerian Elements Progressive Union (an ally of the N C N C ) and the United Middle Belt Congress (formerly an ally of the Action Group), combined to form a Northern Progressive Front. Only diehard opponents of the Action Group, mainly in the Midwestern Region, still held out against the formation of a nation-wide "progressive" alliance. A s a result of the disputed census (challenged u n s u c c e s s f u l l y in the Supreme Court by the Eastern Regional Government), the Northern Region was allotted 167 parliamentary seats (a reduction of 7) out of a total of 312, the Eastern w a s allotted 70 (a reduction of 3), the Western received 57 (an increase of 10), the M i d w e s t e r n 14 (a reduction of 1), and L a g o s 4 (an increase of 1). In A u g u s t 1 9 6 4 , the N P C in alliance with the N N D P , the regionalist Midwestern D e m o c r a t i c Front, and the separatist N i g e r Delta C o n g r e s s of Eastern Nigeria, inaugurated the Nigerian National A l l i a n c e ( N N A ) , to which other small parties in the Eastern Region also adhered. In accordance with the terms of this alliance, the Prime Minister invited two N N D P members of Parliament to join the Federal Cabinet. S o o n thereafter, the N C N C - A c t i o n Group-Northern Progressive Front alliance w a s launched formally as the United Progressive Grand Alliance ( U P G A ) . N o w the stage was set for a two-party battle on election day. We need not recapitulate subsequent events, including a bitter election campaign and its dramatic conclusion: U P G A ' s allegation that the election had been maladministered, its decision to boycott the polls, the harrowing six-day crisis, and the makeshift settlement. 1 6 In the end, U P G A agreed to accept the election results in those constituencies where polling had taken place, however lightly, subject to the proviso that particular results could be challenged in the courts. All told, the N N A won 198 seats to the U P G A ' s 55. Subsequently, the U P G A total w a s boosted over the 100 mark by supplementary elections; their leaders also salvaged a promise of early arrangements to review the constitution and the machinery for elections. In this analysis, it suffices to observe that the two nation-wide alliances

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stand for rival conceptions of the Nigerian political system, which resemble the ideas of Awolowo and Akintola, respectively. UPGA's conception is that of a relatively centralized federal system based on truly national, i.e., transregional, political parties. By contrast the NNA conception accepts the existing regional power system and favors the regionalization of political parties to safeguard regional security. To the leaders of Northern Nigeria, however, regional security implies something more than regionalized political organizations; it also means preservation of the unity of the existing Northern Region, so that it will continue to contain a broad belt of cultural minorities, thereby enabling the NPC to control the Federal Government by virtue of its hold on a single region. At this point, the line between Northern Regional "security" and "northern domination" may be difficult to distinguish. It may be expected that the NNA, in substantial control of the Federal Government, will seek to reorder Nigeria's political system in accordance with its theory of regional security. A step in that direction has already been t a k e n w i t h t h e i n c l u s i o n of N C N C m i n i s t e r s f r o m t h e E a s t e r n a n d Midwestern Regions, in addition to N N D P ministers f r o m the Western Region, in the Federal Cabinet. Eventually, N C N C leaders in the Eastern and Midwestern Regions might be persuaded to cut their losses in the Northern and Western Regions and work within the National Alliance. Such terms, if accepted (and it will be difficult to refuse them if the NNDP wins the forthcoming Western Regional election), would probably spell the end of radicalism as a potent force inside the NCNC. Radical elements, including Marxian socialists and left-wing trade unionists who supported the UPGA in the election crisis, would regroup outside the major parties. Nigeria would continue to develop as a capitalist state, and political competition would tend increasingly to coincide with class conflict. 1 7 *

*

«

Undoubtedly, the northern leaders intend to exploit their constitutional power to promote social and economic development in the north and thereby to increase the Northern Region's real power vis-à-vis the south. In the meantime, southerners are prone to regard the powerful northern presence in Lagos with some disdain and resentment. The upshot is a climate of discontent that detracts gravely from the legitimacy (acceptance by the people) and, perforce, the viability of the Nigerian Federal Government. To remedy this potentially dangerous situation, various changes in the structure of government have been proposed. One approach contemplates a division of the north into two or more regions so as to diminish the political power of the northern political class. This was Awolowo's objective; it is now a plank in the U P G A platform. It would almost certainly lead to a redistribution of federal seats among the parties. It would also entail a decisive shift of power to the Federal Government.

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Recently, the Eastern Regional Premier and National President of the N C N C , Dr. M. I. Okpara, has advocated a reorganization of Nigeria into as many as 2 5 states, in w h i c h case the constitution w o u l d doubtless be revised to assume a more unitary aspect. Another approach, also favored by leaders of the U P G A , s e e m s to face in the o p p o s i t e direction. It w o u l d i n v o l v e a diminution of the p o w e r of the Federal House of Representatives; correspondingly, the status of the Senate, w h i c h g i v e s equality of regional representation, would be raised to that of a co-ordinate legislative chamber. U P G A leaders in southern Nigeria want a s t r o n g S e n a t e t o c o u n t e r v a i l n o r t h e r n d o m i n a n c e in the H o u s e

of

Representatives. H o w e v e r , this "reform" w o u l d also have another effect; it would enhance regional security in the south. UPGA's current espousal of this proposal would s e e m to constitute an acceptance, perhaps inadvertently, of the regionalist l o g i c of the political class. A really radical and popular party might be well advised to remember that strong Senates are usually inimical to the democratic principle of majority rule.

NOTES 1. Daily Service (Lagos), March 29,1951. There is a brief account of the Committee ofNational Rebirth in my Nigerian Political Parties (Princeton 1963), 112-114. 2. Nnamdi Azikiwe, The Development of Political Parties in Nigeria (London 1957), 15-17. 3. Obafemi Awolowo, Path to Nigerian Freedom (London 1947). 4. Gaetano Mosca, The Ruling Class (1896; repub. New York 1939). 5. Milovan Djilas, The New Class (New York 1957). Erne O. Awa has observed that it is the intention of "some politicians" to form the core of a dominant social class. They "believe," he wrote, "that in a modern society there must be a bourgeois class and they should therefore use their political influence to establish themselves as the nucleus of that bourgeoisie." " R o a d s to Socialism in Nigeria," in Nigerian Institute of Social and Economic Research. Conference Proceedings, March 1962 (Ibadan 1963), 20. 6. Cf. Sayre P. Schatz, " T h e R e p a y m e n t Problems of the Regional Loans Boards," paper prepared for the annual conference of the Nigerian Economic Society at the University of Ife, February 1965. 7. Federation of Nigeria, Report of [Coker] Commission of Inquiry into the Affairs of Certain Statutory Corporations in Western Nigeria (Lagos 1962), vol. 1, 28 and 36. It should be emphasized that the Coker Commission was empowered to investigate the operations of governmental agencies in the Western Region only. Were similar investigations to be held in the other regions, disclosures of a somewhat similar nature might result. A suggestive case is mentioned by G. K. Helleiner, "The Eastern Nigerian Development Corporation: a study in sources and uses of public development funds, 1949-1962," in The Nigerian Journal of Economic and Social Studies (Ibadan 1964), 117. 8. Minutes of a meeting of the federal executive council of the Action Group on 23 September 1960, quoted in "The Queen and Maja in re Omisade;" Record of Appeal from the High Court of Lagos to the Federal Supreme Court of Nigeria (Lagos), vol. 9, 13. 9. Ibid. vol. 7, 4-6.

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10. The Queen v. Omisade and 17 Others; FSC 404/63. However, one Justice of the Supreme Court demurred on the ground that the validity of this contention depended upon the uncorroborated evidence of an accomplice, although he concurred in the conviction of Awolowo on other grounds. In fact, those few persons who were in a position to testify with any degree of certainty about the activities of the tactical committee were, in every case, deeply committed to one faction or the other. 11. An inference to this effect may be drawn from the trial record of "The Queen and Maja in re Omisade," op. cit. vol. 6 , 1 1 , and vol. 7, 59. 12. F e d e r a t i o n of Nigeria, Parliamentary Debates, First Parliament, First Session, 1960-61. House of Representatives (Lagos), vol. 1, November 29, 1960, cols. 573-586. 13. 55.7m people were enumerated, distributed thus: Northern Nigeria, 29.8m; Eastern Nigeria, 12.4m; Western Nigeria, 10.3m; Midwestern Nigeria, 2.5m; Federal Territory of Lagos, 675,000. The announced total indicates a statistically startling population rise of 5.5 per cent per annum since the previous census. 14. In 1963 there were 2,485,676 pupils in the primary schools of southern Nigeria—i.e., the Eastern, Western, and Midwestern Regions, and the Federal Territory of Lagos—compared with 410,706 in Northern Nigeria. At the secondary school level, including general education, technical, vocational, and teacher training schools, 231,261 pupils were enrolled in southern Nigeria compared with 20,312 in Northern Nigeria. See Federal Ministry of Education, Statistics of Education in Nigeria, 1963 (Lagos 1965), 9-13. A revealing index of technological development is the official report of electricity sold in Nigeria for all commercial and industrial uses. In the year ending 31 March 1964, approximately 270,000,000 kwh. were sold in the Eastern, Western, and Lagos areas, compared with 40,000,000 in the entire Northern area. Electricity Corporation of Nigeria, Thirteenth Annual Report and Statement of Accounts for the Year ended March 31, 1964 (Lagos 1964), 56. 15. E.g., shortly after independence, the political authority of the Premier of the Northern Region was defied by the Emir of Kano, one of the most powerful of the traditional rulers. In 1963 the administration of the Kano Native Authority was investigated by the R e g i o n a l G o v e r n m e n t and the Emir was c o m p e l l e d to a b d i c a t e . Meanwhile, it had been reported that Action Group strategies for penetration of the north had contemplated co-operation with the ex-Emir of Kano; "The Queen and Maja in re Omisade," op. cit. vol. 2, 169-171, and vol. 7, 49-50. In 1964 a political party loyal to the ex-Emir aligned with the opposition bloc in Kano. 16. See the account by Richard L. Harris, "Nigeria: Crisis and Compromise," in Africa Report 10, 3 (Washington March 1965). 17. This is not, by any means, intended to suggest that the anti-regionalist cause has been lost, certainly not before the impending Western Regional election. The two big electoral alliances may indeed be refined into permanent electoral parties. Such a development would gladden the hearts of liberal democrats who perceive in the twoparty system a promise of stable democracy, especially if each party is broadly based and ideologically diffuse, so that each includes within its fold members who share fundamental beliefs with members of the other. But the viability of a two-party system in Nigeria at the present time is open to question. First of all, it could be undermined by an excessive identification of either party with a "home" region of the country. Secondly, a competitive party system would require for its survival a greater degree of political toleration than we can take for granted in the light of recent experience. This said, a compromise alternative to the rival ideas of the UPGA and the NNA, involving the formation of a national front or congress of regional elements, may not be inconceivable. See my essay, "For National Reconciliation and a United National Front," in Nigerian Opinion 1, 1 (Ibadan January 1965), 5-6.

Three Perspectives on Hierarchy: Political Thought and Leadership in Northern Nigeria C. S. Whitaker

This paper has two principal objects: 1) to show that on a central issue of speculative political thought, namely the proper basis and structure of political participation, the three leading Northern Nigerian political figures take three different positions, each compatible with the practice of government within a democratic framework; 2) to contend that the ideological differences between these men may be explained, in part at least, by the fact that each occupies a different position within a common traditional political culture, the structure of which is hierarchical. The contention, in other words, is that the decisive influence on each man's view of the desirable structural implications of a modern democratic political system has been his particular relationship to, and experience of, a certain kind of traditionally stratified polity. Implicitly this contention touches on a controversial theoretical issue concerning political behavior which in this paper is not pursued as such: whether socio-cultural situations engender political ideologies. 1 It is hoped, however, that in this respect the paper will be suggestive and that it may in particular encourage consideration of the influence of traditional society on the contemporary political thinking of other African leaders. The paper may incidentally shed light on certain political roles which might well befuddle the casual observer. Thus, the Northern Nigerian political leader who most conspicuously identifies himself with the cause of traditional rulers is also the person most responsible for certain measures patently contrary to their own true wishes and inclinations. In this curious championship this leader's most important ally is a man who at one time held an extremely disparaging opinion of the traditional system—in which his personal status is decidedly inferior. The office he now holds in Nigeria's modern scheme of government is in principle the paramount one; yet he has shown no inclination to use his power to undermine traditional authority. The third leader was a colleague of the other two for purposes of operating the coalition of political parties that governed Nigeria in its first five years of independence, notwithstanding the fact that professedly he absolutely rejects important traditional values which the others proclaim should be upheld. Originally published in Journal of Commonwealth & Comparative Politics III, 1 (March 1965), 1-19. Reprinted by permission of the author and Frank Cass & Co., Ltd, London.

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T h e inference that such apparently a n o m a l o u s roles merely represent the s a c r i f i c e of c o n v i c t i o n s to ambition, or, alternatively, the lack of any clear political conceptions in the first p l a c e , would b e consistent with frequently encountered interpretations of leadership in African and other new independent states. T h e a n a l y s i s in this paper should indicate, however, that either inference in this c a s e w o u l d b e inadequate to the reality involved. Specifically, it may help to explain, as such inferences do not, persistent interparty and intraparty c l e a v a g e s in Northern N i g e r i a which to a large extent reflect the coherent v i e w s which separate these three leaders. Alhaji Sir A h m a d u Bello, Sardauna of S o k o t o (Sardauna, like Earl, is a t r a d i t i o n a l t i t l e ) , is the P r e m i e r o f the N o r t h e r n R e g i o n o f the F e d e r a l Republic of Nigeria, and President-General of N i g e r i a ' s largest single party, the Northern P e o p l e ' s C o n g r e s s ( N P C ) . T h e N P C forms both the Government of Northern Nigeria and, in coalition with the National Council of Nigerian C i t i z e n s ( N C N C ) , t h a t o f t h e F e d e r a l R e p u b l i c ( t h i s at the t i m e o f writing—just prior to the 1964 Federal election). Alhaji Sir A b u b a k a r T a f a w a B a l e w a is the First V i c e - P r e s i d e n t of the N P C and P r i m e M i n i s t e r of the Federal Republic. M a l a m A m i n u K a n o is the Life-President of the Nigerian E l e m e n t s ' P r o g r e s s i v e Union ( N E P U ) which has bitterly o p p o s e d the N P C within the Northern R e g i o n , although it has been linked to it in the Federal Government by virtue of an alliance with the N C N C , in which A m i n u K a n o holds the o f f i c e of Vice-President. All three are natives of the distinctive political culture area m a d e up of the thirty-odd, mostly H a u s a - F u l a n i p e o p l e d , states or emirates which together dominate Northern Nigeria in population and territory. T h e s e e m i r a t e s are traditional political entities w h o s e salient c o m m o n characteristics are hierarchical and quasi-theocratic authority, a high degree of social stratification, w e l l - d e v e l o p e d bureaucratic machinery, and, in several instances, extensive d e m o g r a p h i c scale. T h e y have flourished in their present f o r m since b e i n g conquered in a jihad or Islamic holy war by a Fulani devout, S h e h u U s m a n dan F o d i o , early in the nineteenth century, although the characteristics o f emirate g o v e r n m e n t noted a b o v e antedate Fulani rule b y centuries. 2 T h e a d v a n t a g e s o f political o r g a n i z a t i o n these traditional s t a t e s o f f e r were primarily r e s p o n s i b l e for their b e c o m i n g the c l a s s i c c a s e of the British colonial policy of indirect rule or " n a t i v e administration" in A f r i c a . 3 T h i s policy greatly contributed, in turn, to the survival of emirate political culture in the present era, with the result that it has profoundly influenced the c o u r s e of the parliamentary s y s t e m of g o v e r n m e n t and politics which the British introd u c e d into N i g e r i a b e f o r e its i n d e p e n d e n c e , 4 the p o l i t i c a l o u t l o o k s o f the three Northern leaders b e i n g not the least of that influence.

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FORMATIVE EXPERIENCES Alhaji Sir Ahmadu

Bello

Ahmadu Bello might well have attained as eminent a position in a pristine traditional society as he occupies as Northern Premier. The pinnacie of traditional leadership in the emirate s y s t e m — t h e Sultanship of S o k o t o — i s reserved to prominent descendants of dan Fodio, who founded the Sokoto (emirate) ruling dynasty along with the Fulani empire. Ahmadu's father, a District Head of Rabah, in Sokoto, was the son of the eighth Sokoto Sultan; the first Sultan, Muhamman Bello, son of dan Fodio, was Ahmadu's greatgrandfather. He is otherwise well-connected on his maternal side, his grandmother being the daughter of the fourth Fulani Emir of Kano, most populous and wealthy of the emirates. (In My Life, Bello's autobiography, he asserts a claim, the merits of which need not detain us here, to descent, on both sides, from the Holy Prophet. 5 ) Such a pedigree obviously justifies regarding Bello as an exemplification of leadership continuity in modern Africa. Merely to attribute his present station and views to a silver spoon, however, would do injustice both to the political dynamics of a traditional emirate and to his pivotal role as at once modern politician and traditional ruler. With no custom of primogeniture or any other rule determining a strict order of succession, the office of emirship (like many lesser ones in the state h i e r a r c h y ) is in p r i n c i p l e open to all m a l e m e m b e r s of the r o y a l dynasty—inevitably a large group, since the ruling stratum values maximum procreation of males, and practices both polygamy and concubinage. In practice, isa, the Hausa word for influence, in this context meaning wealth and followers to sway the kingmakers, determines success. The critical units in the competition are corporate groups rather than individuals, for the dynasty of each emirate is split for these purposes into one or more lineages (a few emirates also have multiple dynasties). The collective intensity, indeed, frequent bitterness, which characterizes contests for a throne is partly attributable to the fact that customarily the victorious candidate is expected eventually to bestow state offices and titles on his kinsmen and clients, which often necessitates more or less arbitrary removal of incumbents associated with a rival lineage or dynasty. The British outlawed the practice of forcible confiscation (wasau) of rivals' possessions, including offices, and they also threw into the balance of rivalry the criteria of western educational qualification and administrative competence. But the very logic of British policy, which involved upholding a certain discretionary power on the part of traditional rulers, precluded elimination of that ample measure of royal patronage around which the government of an emirate largely revolves to this day. Indeed, concerning the milieu of the typical native administration in the colonial phase, Bello himself has

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written: "There was obviously a great deal of jealousy and intrigue—and I don't say there isn't any now." 6 He also acknowledges the impact of that milieu on his own career. 7 Having completed primary school in Sokoto, the young Ahmadu earned distinction as a student at the famous Katsina College, the Northern secondary school the British had established with the explicit aim of equipping the emirate ruling class with western education. After graduating in 1931, he taught in the Sokoto Middle School for three years, resigning to succeed his deceased father as District Head of Rabah. The death of the Sultan in 1938 occasioned the usual struggle for the Sokoto throne, and Ahmadu, as a grandson of the eighth Sultan and by British standards one of the most promising District Heads, was one of several contestants. However, his first cousin, Abubakar, the present Sultan, won. A common ancestor of Ahmadu and Abubakar was Muhamman Bello, whose descendants form a royal lineage group, called Bellawa. The Bellawa duly competed in 1938 with their main rivals, the Atikawa (descendants of the second Sultan). However, the energetic candidacies of the two Bellawa prospects reduced solidarity in that lineage. The new Sultan, perhaps as an outward show of reconciliation, awarded his own former title, Sardauna, to Ahmadu, who also became the first holder of that title to be appointed to the Sultan's traditional council of advisers. Simultaneously, the new Sardauna was given the novel assignment of supervising the eastern portion of the Emirate, from the important commercial town of Gusau. An interesting question is whether a premeditated motive of this assignment was to entangle the Sardauna in difficulties; the S a r d a u n a ' s own account clearly implies as much. 8 Another version of the story, not necessarily in conflict with the first, is that the Sardauna's energetic and efficient administrative performance in Gusau was deemed a potential threat to the Sultan's own reputation and position. In any case, the undisputed facts are that he was tried and convicted in 1944, in the Sultan's Court, on a charge of having embezzled the jangali or cattle tax, with the collecting of which he was officially concerned at Gusau; yet on appeal to the British High Court he w a s completely exonerated. Subsequently he was reinstated as a Sultan's councillor (an office he still holds) in which capacity he is known to have served faithfully and indeed, it is said, with evident effort to cultivate the Sultan's goodwill. The Sardauna's reaction to his ordeal seems a harbinger of his later political posture. Thus, appealing against the judgement of a judicial council of the Sultan was by customary standards an exceedingly unconventional act, more especially coming from a Sokoto subordinate official (the English translation of the Sultan's traditional title, Sarkin Musulmi, is "Commander of the Faithful," i.e., spiritual head of all the Muslims in Northern Nigeria). It was undoubtedly indicative of determined personal ambition, extending to a willingness to invoke secular authority against the highest sanctions of religion and tradition. On the other hand, the vicissitudes of traditional politics had

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nearly dealt the Sardauna's career a fatal blow. Similar experiences produced in other young aristocrats a disaffection with the traditional system, in some cases to the point, later on, of willingness to serve the cause of radical democratic change. The Sardauna's superior scholastic and administrative abilities set him apart from the ordinary princely title-holder. Yet, far from disaffection, his response to his experience (as suggested in his seeking reconciliation with the Sultan) was in effect to reaffirm his belief in the fundamental legitimacy of the traditional order. Alhaji Sir Abubakar

Tafawa

Balewa

The Prime Minister of Nigeria's status in traditional terms is as humble as the Sardauna's is exalted. He was born in Bauchi Emirate in 1912, a son of Yakubu, whose minor traditional title (Garkuwan Shamaki—literally, "bodyguard" or "keeper of the horses") was at the time reserved strictly to members of slave lineages. 9 Unlike certain other slave-titles, that of his father, who was a menial of the Ajiya (traditional title of the usually Fulani District Heads of Lere), did not carry political power or authority. An apocryphal version that he was the District Head or Ajiya's son has been published in several places in Nigeria and abroad ( W h o ' s Who in Nigeria, West Africa, Time, Ronald Segal's Political Africa, etc.). That Balewa has apparently seen fit to leave this error uncorrected may be taken as a sign of his society's profound preference for the person who retains his hereditary status over the "self-made" man whom western societies applaud. 10 Bauchi lore relates that Abubakar, like several other now prominent Northerners, owes his start in western secular education to the fact that the Muslim emirates' ruling classes, being in those days implacably hostile to that innovation, often contrived to placate the British by sending to school the sons of their retainers in place of their o w n . Whatever the true facts in Balewa's particular case, it is certain that few if any of his class were, at the time, knowingly recruited for the kind of education he received: first at Bauchi, then at Katsina College, where, like Bello, he confirmed an earlier scholastic promise. A career in education, probably the only suitable one readily available to him then, followed; he first taught in 1933 at Bauchi Middle School, of which he became Headmaster less than two years later. In keeping with post-war British policies that opened up Government education departments to Africans and native administration (emir's) councils to c o m m o n e r s , B a l e w a was, successively, one of a h a n d f u l of Northern Nigerians sent abroad in 1945 to study for a diploma (Institute of Education, London University) and then, after his return in 1946, the first traditionally non-eligible person ever appointed to the venerable institution of the Emir of Bauchi's Council. Instead of directly entering Government service, Balewa accepted the option of comparable rank and salary within the native administration education department. Educated, highly articulate in English, and familiar with British customs,

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Balewa was a natural choice to serve as the Bauchi Native Administration's nominee in the new Northern legislature (established initially with strictly advisory powers under the 1946 Constitution) and later to attend the series of consultative meetings that preceded promulgation of the 1951 Constitution. This instrument introduced a Northern Assembly (with legislative authority), to which Balewa was elected. That institution in turn offered Balewa a realm of leadership that transcended traditional society, in the form first of simultaneous membership in the Nigerian legislature at Lagos, then a federal (or central as it was then styled) ministry, and eventually the highest national office. The central feature of Balewa's experience then is upward social mobility, thanks to modernity. He almost certainly would have remained fastened in obscurity were it not for the historical contingencies of western contact and Nigerian nationhood under parliamentary forms. A singularly low-born member of an emphatically ascriptive society that change has incorporated rather than displaced, Balewa's socio-political point of vantage is truly that of the "new man." Malam Aminu

Kano

Aminu Kano was born into the Fulani clan of Kano Emirate called Genawa. In the structure of that state, the Genawa are prominent, even patrician, but they are not royalty or ordinary nobility. Rather they are renowned for pursuing the specialized Islamic vocations: jurists, priests, and scholars. Aminu Kano was reared in this tradition. His father, Malam Yusufu, was for a time Acting Chief Alkali, or Muslim judge, of Kano. His grandfather was Hassan Abdulaziz, a celebrated malam or religious scholar; his grandmother's reputation for religious learning earned her the respectful title, Modibo. Before Aminu was educated in western-type schools, his mother, who was literate in Arabic and Hausa, a rare accomplishment among women of her generation, taught him to read and write and introduced him to Koranic study. The peculiar aspects of this heritage would seem to furnish insight into Aminu Kano, the leader of a modern, radical democratic party. Alkalai, malamai, and Limani ("Imams" or "priests") constitute the principal transmitters of the spiritual and moral values of Islamic society, and the bona fide interpreters of its laws. In theory "Islam knows only one law, the divinely revealed Shari'a, which holds sway over political not less than over social, economic and cultural life." 1 1 It follows that those officially concerned with its exposition and dissemination not only hold high and respected positions in orthodox Islamic communities like the emirates but they are also in principle the ultimate source of authoritative political judgement. While in theory the Shari'a admits of no separation between temporal and spiritual authority, it of course does not prevent the emergence of purely de facto political power, nor guarantee that rulers' behavior will conform to its prescriptions. If there is to be any legitimate criticism of the conduct of the state, obviously it must come from the Muslim clerics, scholars, and judges,

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who historically have been disposed to scrutinize, evaluate, and even censure the acts of rulers in the light of ideal prescriptions. Furthermore, they constitute persons to w h o m victims of oppression naturally look for redress of grievances, for "apart from actual rebellion, extralegal recourse against (individual acts of) the government is had only through the protests and admonitions of the religious elite." 12 However, like their counterparts in medieval Christendom (e.g., Becket), these defenders of the faith lack both independent machinery to enforce their assessments and means of "protecting against governmental reprisal." 13 The result is a socio-political role which entails responsibility to a concept of higher law and its derivative standards of earthly justice and moral probity, but imposes severe limitations of action on those who assume the role. That such personal orientation towards traditional state authority tends to be either indignant hostility or abject resignation is only to be expected. The Kano Genawa, it is pertinent to note, customarily take pride in preferring service in independent or Alkali courts to subordinate membership of the Emir's Court, a custom nowadays not always individually honored in the observance. To be sure, influences other than those of the family were at work in Aminu Kano's earlier life: in particular western education (also partly at the Northern elite secondary school, which having been relocated at the Northern capital was accordingly renamed Kaduna College) and travel to England, where he was in touch with personalities on the left-wing of the Labour Party and exposed to the writings of Marx, Laski, and Gandhi. Surely it is not without significance, however, that his earliest modern political mentor was one Malam Sa'adu Zungur. Zungur, whose great-grandfather is said to have studied under dan Fodio, was himself a noted Koranic scholar and, by the time Aminu met him, the most outspoken Northern detractor of the system of native authority and indirect rule. In an interview with the author Aminu Kano traced the roots of a deep enmity between himself and the Kano Native Authority to the six months when his father was Acting Chief Alkali. He related that on several occasions his father found himself at variance with the throne on questions of justice. One such incident he cited as a turning point personally: a servant of the late Emir (Bayero) had fallen out of royal favor and was to be ejected from the palace. His father insisted that justice required compensation to the servant for labor and money spent on improving his house, located within the palace walls. The Emir refused and there ensued a bitter dispute which eventually drew in the sons of the principal adversaries, Sanusi, then Ciroma (heir apparent) and later a powerful Emir of Kano, and Aminu. The incident illustrates the friction between traditional authority and the sort of ideals that engaged Aminu Kano's attention from his youth.

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MODERN POLITICAL FOUNDATIONS The three leaders' divergent backgrounds and future political views are reflected in the very manner and occasion of their entrance into the realm of modern politics. We have already noticed that Balewa began his political career in 1946 as a nominee of the Bauchi Native Authority (in effect the Emir of Bauchi) in a regional legislature then devoid of decision-making powers. In 1949, the Sokoto Sultan nominated the Sardauna to that same body in place of his deceased Waziri (Hausa corruption of "vizier" or prime minister). Neither Balewa nor the Sardauna associated himself openly with any overtly political organization until late 1951, when the provisions of the new Constitution induced the NPC to convert from a self-styled "cultural society" to a political party. Elsewhere the point has been made that at this juncture the NPC virtually shed its original identity as a forum essentially for western educated, reform minded, "progressives" and became in essence a parliamentary caucus dominated by holders of traditional offices and titles in the emirates. 14 This last development was in part a consequence of the 1952 constitutional provisions governing elections, which utilized various tiers of traditional councils as a chain of electoral colleges, and in effect helped emirs to control the results by authorizing them to appoint 10 per cent of the membership of the highest level college. Modified systems of indirect election on this pattern were in force during the 1954 (federal) and 1956 (Northern regional) elections: direct voting and adult male suffrage being introduced for the first time in the federal ("independence") election of 1959. The 1955 Annual Party Convention of the NPC, of which the Sardauna had in the meantime become President-General and Balewa First VicePresident, voted to freeze its roster of officers for five years. (In the event, by the end of 1963 no further election of party officers and only a few party conventions had actually been held.) The sum significance for our purposes of the circumstances described in the last three paragraphs is that during the whole period of Northern Nigeria's advance to self-government (1959) the Sardauna and Tafawa Balewa operated independently of direct mass political support, and of any real popular accountability. In fact, they were modern politicians only in the quite limited sense that they were parliamentarians. As such they were free to formulate their own political roles—within the limits set by virtual dependence on the political sponsorship of traditionally composed native authorities. Leading NPC members of the period state that originally the favorite candidate for the Presidency-General among the pre-1951 or "young Turk" wing of the party was Balewa, but that the party as a whole became persuaded that the Sardauna must occupy this office if the party was to enjoy the confidence of traditional rulers and their politically orthodox subjects. (Much the same line of reasoning was responsible for his selection by the British as the

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first Northern Minister for Local Government.) As head of the party commanding a majority of the regional legislature, the Sardauna later naturally assumed the post of Northern Premier. His attitude toward the forces mainly responsible for his position was summed up in an inimitable paraphrase of Churchill widely attributed to him: that he had not become Premier of the Northern Region in order to preside over the disintegration of his greatgrandfather's empire. In a 1950 speech, otherwise famous for its incisive criticisms of the shortcomings of native administration, Balewa had already given some hint of his own inclination: "I do not wish to destroy, I call for reform. "15 In contrast to the others, Aminu K a n o did not occupy a seat in any Parliament before 1959. Along with Malam Sa'adu Zungur, he was forced out of the Executive Committee of the NPC in 1950 by the vote of a majority, who already by that date considered their radical slant inimical. To win support for his political program, Aminu Kano was compelled to foster a mass political m o v e m e n t . An o p p o r t u n i t y w a s p r e s e n t e d in the f o r m of the Northern Elements Progressive Union (NEPU), founded in August 1950; he joined and quickly thereafter assumed leadership. His newspaper article explaining the motive for this action, which entailed his resignation from a relatively secure position as a teacher in government service, made very plain the passions underlying his intention to employ NEPU as an uncompromising foe of traditionally constituted authority: I r e s i g n e d b e c a u s e I r e f u s e to b e l i e v e that this country is by n e c e s s i t y a prisoner of the A n g l o - F u l a n i autocracy or the unpopular indirect rule s y s tem. I r e s i g n e d b e c a u s e there is n o f r e e d o m to criticize this m o s t unjust and a n a c h r o n i s t i c and u n - I s l a m i c f o r m of h o l l o w institutions p r o m u l g a t e d b y Lugard. I r e s i g n e d b e c a u s e I f a n a t i c a l l y s h a r e the v i e w that the N a t i v e administrations, as they stand today, c o u p l e d w i t h all their t o o trumpeted " f i n e tradition," are w o e f u l l y h o p e l e s s in s o l v i n g our urgent e d u c a t i o n a l , social, e c o n o m i c , political, and e v e n r e l i g i o u s problems. . . I cannot tolerate these institutions b e c a u s e of their s m e l l . I cannot tolerate them b e c a u s e they d o not tolerate a n y o n e . T h e y e v e n g o to the extent of d o o m i n g the future of their critics. I am prepared to b e called by any n a m e . Call m e a dreamer or call m e a revolutionary, call m e a crusader or a n y t h i n g y o u will. I h a v e s e e n a light o n the far h o r i z o n and I intend to m a r c h into its full circle either alone or w i t h a n y o n e w h o cares to g o w i t h m e . 1 6

To complete this background to contemporary Northern Nigerian political controversy it is important to observe the suddenness with which the traditional society was confronted with modern western institutions of government. Indirect rule had assisted the survival into the present era of an extraordinarily resilient system of political autocracy. It was not primarily ferment from within that system but British colonial policy—revised under the pressure of African nationalism elsewhere (notably in southern Nigeria and Ghana)—that

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led to the introduction of democratic forms in Northern Nigeria, for the British invariably made acceptance of these forms a precondition to the transfer of power. The same influence determined the pace and timing of change, with the outcome that virtually within seven years ( 1 9 5 2 - 5 9 ) Northern Nigeria spanned the enormous distance separating European medieval political institutions from those of modern representational government. The democratic apparatus w a s introduced at the regional level of government, which did not, however, supplant local traditional systems. In fact the framework of emirate government w a s retained for the express purpose of a gradual transition to democratic local government. Apart from this deliberative " c a u t i o n , " the mere superimposition of representational forms w a s in itself p o w e r l e s s to eradicate the s u b s t a n c e of a p e o p l e ' s political habits, expectations, beliefs, and values. The net result has been to rule out explicit consideration, from first principles, as it were, of the merits of democratic institutions; doubtless a general desire to attract western investment capital further helps to obviate that issue still. Instead, the working ground of political contention in Northern Nigeria has been whether, or to what extent, those institutions are reconcilable with pre-established political norms, notably the traditional emirates' basis and structure of political participation. In essence, this has meant a dialogue, or rather trialogue, as w e shall see, on the place, if any, of hierarchy in a putatively democratic society. THREE VIEWS The Sardauna's roots and experience dispose him to be concerned primarily with values appropriate to the state as such, not particularly with those of the democratic variety. Thus, he is preoccupied with obedience, order, stability, and discipline; and these are key words in almost all his important speeches. " A m o n g the traditions we have inherited from our forefathers and which we intend to transmit to our descendants," he asserted in an address marking the attainment of Northern self-government, "there is none we prize more highly than respect for lawful constituted authority." 1 7 That the respect whereof he speaks has been inculcated by a century of rule under an autocratic regime based on conquest apparently represents in his eyes not the slightest debasement of its quality. On the contrary, he takes enormous pride in the fact that the new democratic institutions of Northern Nigeria have so far derived their legitimacy and security from being linked, through himself and a considerable number of others in the new positions of power, 1 8 to the Sokoto Empire. Thus he deliberately chose March 15, the date of the fall of Sokoto to British troops in 1903, to celebrate the resumption, as it were, of Northern self-government. A year later he confirmed that "to follow in the footsteps of my ancestors" was his ideal. 1 9 H o w e v e r c o n s p i c u o u s is the element of sentiment in the S a r d a u n a ' s

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visions of the past, it would be mistaken to conclude that these are devoid of political realism or resolved into indifference to modernity. He has repeatedly stressed the importance of social discipline in the task of economic development, which his government has in fact been pursuing seriously. 2 0 But many of the g e n e r a l l y u s e f u l q u a l i t i e s f o r w h i c h he a p p l a u d s a n c i e n t F u l a n i rule—the ability to c o m m a n d obedience, maintain order and stability, tax, administer, and even innovate 2 1 —plainly are also relevant to that task. Hence the Sardauna sees no good reason w h y the advantages of traditional hierarchy should be repudiated. At the 1950 Ibadan Conference on the Nigerian Constitution, the fiery southern Nigerian nationalist, M b o n u Ojike, alluded to what he termed the universal decline of hereditary monarchy in this "the century of the c o m m o n man." "If my friend might live for centuries," retorted the Sardauna coolly, "he might still find natural rulers in the North." 2 2 This remark, made in the context of negotiating the introduction of the democratic forms which, to the surprise of many observers, the Sardauna's regime increasingly welcomed, clearly did not m e a n espousal of the status quo ante. Evidently, w h a t he meant to deny w a s that the right to choose representatives, or the injection of novel governmental functions, must require a wholly transformed structure of leadership. In reckoning that a newly enfranchised people may affirm the supremacy of its established rulers—that it may cling to belief in an innate capacity to g o v e r n — t h e S a r d a u n a does not, of course, lack the c o m f o r t of historical precedent, that of the British being nearest to hand: "I am told that this belief (in continuity) has helped other nations to greatness, God willing it will do so f o r u s . " 2 3 W i t h r e s p e c t to the p r e m i s e of H a u s a - F u l a n i ( a n d r e l a t e d ) culture(s), w h i c h , as already indicated, evinces "a general p r e f e r e n c e for social continuity and for stability in the status order," 2 4 he is on equally solid ground. In a m o o d of A f r i c a n self-discovery and self-affirmation, he even e n j o y s the g r u d g i n g a d m i r a t i o n of s o m e of his s t r o n g e s t i d e o l o g i c a l assailants, w h o take pride in the emirate phenomenon as evidence of African ability to sustain a complex society. But the S a r d a u n a does not appear content to rely indefinitely on such propitious reflexes, however essential they may be to his initial opportunity to shape the future, in regard to which he approvingly cites the Hausa proverb "it is better to repair than to build afresh." 2 5 Rather, he seems to envisage a regime of aristocratic composition which will, like himself, accept the conditions and restraints of a f r a m e w o r k of modernizing and democratic institutions, and within it earn, as it were, the right to go on ruling. A n integral part of this vision is the insistent encouragement he has given the ruling classes to ensure that their offspring acquire the qualifications and skills of modern leadership. A number of emirs and hereditary nobles have responded by continuing in the practice, initiated in colonial days, of sending their sons to English public schools. T h e Sardauna's grasp of the long-term

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political significance of western education also underlies the gratitude he has often expressed to the founders of Katsina College, graduates of which, he points out with pride, "hold almost all the key positions in the administration of the Region today." 26 The same vision has also led him to censure the behavior of emirs far more frequently and forcefully than might otherwise be expected. His government, he warned early in 1961, "would not hesitate to remove any chief who is found guilty of oppression or of neglect of his duty." 27 Two years later came the abdication, under threat of deposition for maladministration, of the most powerful recent Northern Emir, Sanusi of Kano. 2 8 Such utterances and actions have naturally gone a long way towards reconciling the "young Turk" faction of the NPC to his stewardship. Seemingly lest he create the impression of having lost faith in the traditional order, however, in the legislative commons he has more recently returned to expressions that leave little room for doubting his basic stand: Now all of us here are butterflies, we come and go but the Emirs are there. I wonder if any of those people who think that we are trying to down-grade the Chiefs or make them rubber stamps, can be called as Sarkin Musulmi or the Sardauna. [Applause] I am a member of the royal family and it will be a great shame and down-fall for me to see that Chieftaincy is degraded and if that should happen in this Region, I pray to God to do away with my life. 2 9

The allusion to a connection between his personal destiny and that of traditional authority is more than fanciful. Indeed, cultivation of the style of ancestral figures in his role as Premier is pronounced and calculated. His dress (exquisite gowns and brocaded cloaks, the high turban—tied behind with the flourish reserved by custom to princes) and his magisterial physical bearing are only part of this. Lavish gift-giving, annual pilgrimages to Mecca accompanied in his aircraft by favored associates, evening meals taken in his private residence with a large permanent inner circle, regularly widened by more occasional attenders (the scene's resemblance to that of dan Fodio and disciples is compelling), all help to build the image. Opportunities for more pointed references are seldom lost. Campaigning for the first time in Bauchi Emirate, in connection with the 1959 election, he gloried in the parallel that—with Tafawa Balewa acting as the Northern Premier's "biggest lieutenant in the present day set-up of Nigeria"—the relationship between Sokoto and Bauchi was as it had been "since the beginning of Fulani rule in the Region." (Yakubu, first Bauchi Emir, was one of dan Fodio's early pupils and later a principal liegeman of the first Sokoto Sultan, Bello.) 30 When at a post-election rally in Kaduna, the Sardauna announced a decision (since rescinded) to retire soon from politics, he compared this to dan Fodio's action in renouncing earthly power in favor of his son Bello and brother Abdullahi. "When the current political battle is over," he stated, "I, too, will divide this country between two trustworthy lieutenants;" he then

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presented, in the manner of an emir conducting an investiture, an alkyabba (traditional cloak signifying bestowal of authority) to his "lieutenant in the South," Balewa. 3 1 The presentation of a horse to each of his ministers on the occasion of the first of a series of cabinet meetings at his Sokoto residence in January 1961 was in like vein. Thus by 1963 the Premiership had already in certain quarters acquired a pseudonym (SarkinArewa—Emir of the North), although the Sardauna's ultimate personal ambition remains in Northern Nigeria a matter of some speculation, complicated by his often reiterated desire eventually to become Sultan of Sokoto. An ambition to ascend to that still lofty office is obviously inconsistent with an intention to reduce its dignity or impair its integrity. Whatever the future course of the Sardauna's role, clearly it serves at present not just to acknowledge but to reinforce his society's acceptance of the premise of hierarchy. *

*

*

Succinctly put, the Sardauna's conception of democratic development is steady improvement and widening popular acceptance of governmental performance without essential damage to the elite composition of those who govern. In contrast, Aminu Kano's profound wish is to see the present basis and structure of authority, leadership, and political participation transformed. His understanding of democracy extends to government "by," rather than just "for" and "of," the people. Whereas the Sardauna propounds in effect a doctrine of hierarchy based on a supposed natural harmony of interests between rulers and the ruled, Aminu Kano subscribes to the view that social hierarchy inevitably embodies conflict of divergent social class interests. Democracy to him is therefore the antithesis of hierarchy. Its development connotes a levelling process, indeed provides a necessary channel for the ultimate resolution of class conflicts. 3 2 Distaste for the lordly comportment of aristocracy led Aminu Kano, as long ago as 1944, to place an advertisement in the Northern vernacular newspaper, Gaskiya Ta Fi Kwabo, calling on commoners (talakawa) to abandon such traditional habits of deference as taking off their shoes and prostrating themselves in the presence of sarakuna (royalty, nobility, and indeed all holders of traditional title and office). In one of his first speeches as NEPU leader, he asserted, before an astonished audience at Sokoto, that for emirs to defer to the talakawa whose taxes paid emirs' salaries would be more appropriate than the other way round. 3 3 At his insistence NEPU petitioners to emirs' judicial and executive councils nowadays usually keep their feet shod, their backs erect, and withhold the traditionally prescribed praise-greetings (such as "Zaki" "Lion" or "'Rankya dade" "May your life be prolonged") on the grounds that these gestures are offensive to human dignity. One of the first and probably most successful of NEPU campaigns under

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Aminu Kano's leadership was directed against the practice of compulsory labor, for non-communal purposes, that in the North survived the enactment of the Nigerian Labor Code. Until the recent (1960) enactment of a new Penal Code the Northern legal set-up, in which Native Authorities were in effect authorized to define and adjudicate native law and custom, protected these and other popularly detested official practices. Characteristically, Aminu Kano's response to such legal immunities to prosecution for maladministration was to try and inculcate in his followers respect for the doctrines of satyagraha, or non-violent civil disobedience as developed in India. 3 4 Although the principle of non-violence seems not to have penetrated, justifiable resort to action outside or even contrary to presently constituted authority represents an important if unpublicized tenet of NEPU's political creed. At the same time Aminu Kano was a forceful advocate of legal limitations on government, such as prerogative writs (most of them were suspended between 1956 and 1959 in Northern courts), separation of judicial, legislative, and executive authority (they still coalesce in the Native Authority system), 35 constitutional guarantees of civil liberties and due process of law. In keeping with the last principle, he was also closely identified with the successful movement to write the provisions of fundamental human rights, based on the UN Declaration, into the Nigerian Constitution. (The Sardauna not long ago expressed the view that the Fundamental Human Rights section of the Nigerian Constitution hinders "dealing with subversive elements in an emergency" and ought accordingly to be amended.) 36 The crux of Aminu K a n o ' s outlook is its transcendence of received socio-political arrangements, however viable these may now be in the circumstances of Northern Nigeria. It appears to stem, rather, from an a priori conception of man, in a manner consistent with a habit of deducing political institutions from religious premises and pitting their ideal sanctions against an opposing reality. Whether Islam actually endorses Aminu Kano's central political values, as he in fact contends, 37 is less important in the present context than the intellectual and moral process they reflect. His anti-hierarchical presuppositions apparently rest on a belief in universal perfectibility—hence his abhorrence of a servile human posture. NEPU poems and songs, many of them written by Aminu Kano personally, are full of eschatological images, expressing his perception of a desperate plight of the masses (e.g., " a s skewered meat before the fire" and promising deliverance, a "new day," a basic reordering of the system of roles and rewards). 38 While his party's programs reflect the prevailing enthusiasm among contemporary African political leaders for economic development, his objective would appear to be an optimum point between material progress and active popular control. Short of the ideal, might he in practice sacrifice a measure of the former goal for the sake of the latter? The possibility is suggested by the fact that, despite what has been called the African leader's belief in a divine right of the educated to lead, Aminu Kano has often said that the attraction of

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new leadership opportunities frequently leads the newer educated elite to compromise with political principle, hence to forfeiture of a claim to democratic leadership. 3 9 Ironically, this is a judgement to which his role in the Federal government has made him personally vulnerable, whether or not the role was assumed in order to combat the national political isolation and financial debility of NEPU as an organization, as he insists. 40 However, his refusal to join other former opposition leaders in support of the NPC, or in a moratorium on criticism of Northern political life, together with his recent leadership of NEPU into a Northern Progressive Front in active opposition to the NPC, all suggest persistence of a political vision, once concisely expressed by him in these words: W e interpret d e m o c r a c y in its more traditional, radical s e n s e , and that is the rule o f the c o m m o n p e o p l e , the poor, the illiterate, w h i l e our o p p o n e n t s [the N P C ] interpret it in its m o d e r n Tory s e n s e , and that is the rule o f the enlighte n e d and prosperous minority in the s u p p o s e d interest o f the c o m m o n p e o ple.-»

Like the Sardauna, Balewa is highly conscious of the special requisites of leadership in a modernizing state, and, like Aminu Kano, he clearly recognizes the change in the scope of participation and source of political authority such a state may involve. Balewa's reaction to these matters differs, however, from that of either of the other two. Thus, he assumes that in the long run new conditions will give rise to a new class whose attributes and self-interests do not coincide with those of even "enlightened" traditional rulers. The assumption was articulated in a now famous speech, in the Northern legislature, calling for reforms in the system of native administration: T h e Natural Rulers o f the North s h o u l d realize that Western e d u c a t i o n and w o r l d c o n d i t i o n s are fast creating a n e w c l a s s o f p e o p l e in the North. That this n e w c l a s s m u s t exist is certain, and the Natural Rulers, w h o m the North m u s t retain at all costs, s h o u l d instead o f s u s p e c t i n g it, try to find it proper accommodation.42

As probably the most outstanding of this "emergent" class, Balewa might have been expected to w e l c o m e the development even at the expense of "Natural Rulers." This and other speeches definitely show otherwise, however. To the remarks above, he added: 1 w i l l personally prefer to s e e s u c h c h a n g e s c o m i n g first f r o m the Natural R u l e r s rather than f r o m the n e w c l a s s . T h i n g s are rapidly c h a n g i n g and m u c h trouble and bitterness c o u l d be a v o i d e d if those in high p o s i t i o n s o f authority w o u l d k e e p their e y e s o p e n and agree to m o v e w i t h the times.

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At the same time, his indictment, in the same speech, of a propensity on the part of native administration for "putting square pegs in round holes" revealed a disbelief in the claims to inherent superiority made by the traditional class. The clue to this speech and to Balewa's general outlook would appear to lie in his perception of a dilemma confronting him and others like him in developing societies. In brief, the dilemma is that, while a person like Balewa is aware that objectively his talents and skills are potentially beneficial to his society in terms of economic progress, he is also aware that the overwhelming majority of his society's people are illiterate, relatively isolated from the outside world, and otherwise in no position fully to appreciate his potential contribution, or even to share his aspirations for them. He understands, in other words, that democratic control of political recruitment under these circumstances may prejudice both the progress of his society and his own chances for leadership. In the case of western societies the dilemma was obviated, or at least alleviated, by the protracted extension of the franchise and other devices that delayed exercise of popular sovereignty. Balewa appears to have sensed that the suddenness of institutional change rendered far more vulnerable the position of the "new class" in Northern Nigeria. The misgiving underlies his remarks concerning the initial proposal to install elected representatives as government ministers in the North: There are men, as I say, Mr. Chairman, w h o can shoulder these responsibilities, but do w e all b e l i e v e that it is those type of people w h o m I have in mind w h o will be given the opportunity of shouldering those responsibilities?«

Active participation and control on the part of the peasant masses of Hausaland might take one of two forms, equally deplorable from Balewa's point of view: acquiescence in autocracy and despotism, or the embrace of revolutionary programs of change and of leaders productive of chaos. Thus, distrust of politicians and anxiety about the response of the masses are the two recurrent major themes in Balewa's reflections on the coming of democracy. 44 "Even when Nigeria is ripe for responsible government," he argued, "leadership...should not be granted through the medium of its people who are agitating." 45 "The few of us here," he remarked on another occasion in the Legislature, "represent millions of people, the majority of whom, apart from being illiterate, is still very incapable of understanding what we are doing." 4 6 To the radical critics of traditional authority he remonstrated: "Now let me warn them...that if they abuse authority, in the same way the people of whom they expect to be masters will abuse their authority in their time." 4 7 For these problems, Balewa's solution has been a partnership patterned on his personal history. Traditional rulers can use their hold on popular loyalties to elevate new men of talent to responsible positions of power. In return,

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traditional leaders may be reassured, as he has repeatedly insisted, that modern and traditional leadership need not be antagonistic. 4 8 In contrast to the Sardauna, Balewa's commitment to traditional authority is essentially instrumental or pragmatic; the partnership between the new men of talent and the knights of traditional legitimacy might in due course be happily liquidated. In keeping with his experience, Balewa's conception of the proper basis and structure of authority in the modern state is in essence bureaucratic, or, to use a m o r e current term, meritocratic. Indeed, it may be this element in his thinking, rather than personal taste for dead ideological center, that m a k e s him a disappointment to the Northern Nigerian far right and far left alike. CONCLUSION The three leaders' different perspectives on hierarchy might be traced in their attitudes on other currently unresolved controversies in Northern Nigeria, such as socialism, f e m a l e s u f f r a g e , constitutional reform, p a n - A f r i c a n i s m , foreign policy, and the implications of Islamic faith in the modern world. The analysis here of their positions on o n e central issue m a y at least suggest, however, their respective approaches to other matters. The contention here has not been that the traditional culture alone has influenced them, nor that it has done so in mechanistic fashion. Islamic doctrine, western education, Katsina College, careers in teaching, European contact and travel, to mention only those factors alluded to above, are doubtless separable and important. It is worth observing, however, that each appears to have reacted selectively to this set of c o m m o n experiences, seizing on different possible interpretations of it. Thus, Aminu Kano fastened on the egalitarian implications of Islam and was drawn to the more radical strains in English politics represented by Laski and the left wing of the Labour Party, while predemocratic aspects of Islamic doctrine and English society were perceived by Balewa and the Sardauna. 4 9 T h e essence of the argument is that traditional political culture has constituted for these leaders a special kind of "cognitive m a p , " pointing each in a different direction of thought and action. W h i l e the political t h i n k i n g and b e h a v i o r of these m e n m a y h a v e been oriented by the character of an i n d i g e n o u s A f r i c a n society, the s u b s t a n c e of t h e i s s u e d i s c u s s e d h e r e is h a r d l y u n f a m i l i a r to w e s t e r n s o c i e t i e s . W i t h o u t o v e r s t r e s s i n g t h e p a r a l l e l , o n e m a y , f o r i n s t a n c e , f i n d in t h e predilections of the S a r d a u n a , B a l e w a , and A m i n u K a n o clear e c h o e s of A d a m s , J e f f e r s o n , and Tom Paine. Indeed, the current N o r t h e r n N i g e r i a n s c e n e serves to r e m i n d that, far f r o m r e s o l v i n g all i m p o r t a n t issues, the f o r m a l adoption of d e m o c r a t i c institutions leaves o p e n to c h o i c e s o m e of the m o s t basic political v a l u e s and objectives.

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NOTES Field-work in Northern Nigeria in 1959-60 and July - September 1963 was made possible through grants from the Social Science Research Council, and African Studies Center, University of California, Los Angeles, respectively. The author is also indebted for related assistance to the Center of International Studies, Princeton University. None of these organizations bears any responsibility for statements in this paper. 1. According to Professor Gabriel Almond, "political systems tend to perpetuate their structures through time, and. . . they do this mainly by means of the socializing influences of the primary and secondary structures through which they pass in the process of maturation. . . Political socialization is the process of induction into the political culture. Its end product is a set of attitudes—cognitions, value standards, and feelings—toward the political system, its various roles and role incumbents." The Politics of the Developing Areas (Princeton 1960), 27. The concepts of political socialization and political culture, which appear to bear resemblance to the concept of "national character" and perhaps also to the Marxian notion of a relationship between "structure" and "superstructure," are implicitly applicable in the context of this paper. It is not to be inferred, however, that the relationship of such general factors as these concepts point to in the case herein discussed is, in the view of the author, either inevitably decisive or universally operative. 2. See M. G. Smith, "The Beginnings of Hausa Society: A.D. 1000-1500" in J. Vansina et al. (ed.), The Historian in Tropical Africa (London 1964), 339-354. 3. For recent illuminating discussions of indirect rule and its architect in Northern Nigeria, see M. Perham, Lugard: The Years of Authority, 1898-1945 (London 1960), 138-173; M. Bull "Indirect Rule in Northern Nigeria, 1906-1911," in K. Robinson and F. Madden (eds.), Essays in Imperial Government (Oxford 1963), 47-87. 4. The impact of the traditional emirate system of government and politics on the modern system is the subject of C. S. Whitaker, "The Politics of Tradition: A Study of Continuity and Change in Northern Nigeria, 1946-60" (PT) (unpubl. diss., Princeton 1964). 5. Alhaji Sir Ahmadu Bello, My Life (London 1962), 239. 6. Ibid., 102. 7. Ibid., 58-59. 8. Ibid. 9. As a legal status, slavery in Northern Nigeria was abolished in principle by Lugard's Proclamation, January 1, 1900. However, the designation of individuals as slaves or descendants of slaves is a social usage which persists in Northern Nigeria, thanks in no small measure to the fact that Lugard's Proclamation in effect allowed those slaves who failed to apply for legal manumission to continue functioning as before. The progeny of such slaves were automatically free at birth before the law, but Hausa society has emphasized slave parentage, as reflected in use of the terms dimajo (pi. dimajai) or bacucune (cucunawa—used especially in Kano). Hence, as the author has witnessed, in Bauchi Emirate the Prime Minister is sometimes referred to in these terms. In and outside Bauchi, however, most people appear to be either ignorant of the facts of Balewa's background or anxious to conceal them, perhaps particularly from foreign researchers. For fuller discussion and interesting analysis of the Hausa institution of slavery and the British impact on it see M. G. Smith, Government in Zazzau (GZ) (London 1960), 253ff; and "Slavery and Emancipation in Two Societies (Jamaica and Zaria)," Social and Economic Studies 3 (1954), 239-288. 10. See M. G. Smith, "The Hausa System of Social Status," Africa 39 (1959), 239-52.

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11. E. I. J. Rosenthal, Political Thought in Medieval Islam (Ixindon 1958), 23. 12. G. E. Von Grunebaum, Islam: Essays in the Nature and Growth of a Cultural Tradition (Memoir No. 81) 57 pt.2, American Anthropologist (1955), 133-134. 13. Ibid. 14. See Chapter 3 of this book, p. 32. 15. Northern Nigeria, R. C. Deb., Aug. 19, 1950, 4. 16. "My Resignation," Daily Comet (Kano), Nov. 11,1950, 1 and 4. 17. Northern Nigeria's Day of History: Speeches made by H. E. the Governor, Sir Gawain W. Bell and the Hon. Premier, Alhaji Sir Ahmadu Bello, on Sunday, 15th March, 1959 (NNDH) (Kaduna 1959), 2. 18. See Whitaker, PT, 389-90, which contains a tabulation, based on intensive interviews and surveys, showing that from 7 2 - 8 4 per cent of the emirate members of the Northern House of Assembly in 1959 belonged to the traditional ruling class. The corresponding figure for Northern Ministers is 17 out of 19. 19. Northern Nigeria, H. A. Deb., Apr. 16, 1960, 291. 20. See Ministry of T r a d e and Industry, Northern N i g e r i a , The Industrial Potentialities of Northern Nigeria (Kaduna 1963), 11-14. 21. For an account of the incorporation of modern technical functions and departments of administration into the traditional bureaucracy during the colonial period see M.G. Smith, GZ, 230-234. 22. Proceedings of the General Conference on Review of the Nigerian Constitution, January 1950 (Lagos 1950), 142. 23. NNDH, 6. 24. M.G. Smith, "The Hausa System of Social Status," loc. cit., 248. 25. NNDH, 6. 26. Ibid., 2 27. Daily Times (Lagos), Jan. 30, 1961, 1. 28. See the brief summation of the background to this case in B. J. Dudley, "The N o m i n a t i o n of P a r l i a m e n t a r y C a n d i d a t e s in N o r t h e r n N i g e r i a , " Journal of Commonwealth Political Studies 2 (1963), 58 (note 51). 29. Northern Nigeria, H. A. Deb., Sept. 9 , 1 9 6 3 , 66. 30. Nigerian Citizen (Zaria), Nov. 11, 1959, 16. 31. Ibid., Dec. 1 9 , 1 9 5 9 , 1 . 32. NEPU/SAWABA Declaration of Principles (Jos 1950), articles 2 and 3. 33. First hand account of a speech in possession of the author. 34. Daily Comet (Kano), Oct. 2, 1951, 1. 35. Native Authority Law, 1954 (as amended) (Kaduna n.d.), Part 3 and, for a discussion of its provisions, Whitaker, PT, 234 ff. 36. Northern Nigeria, H. A. Deb., Aug. 9, 1963, 46. 37. A persistent theme in mass-rally political speeches of Aminu Kano and other NEPU religious " s p e c i a l i s t s " is, in essence, that the modern ideals of political accountability and popular participation are implicit in the Islamic concept of ijma (concensus of the community in being) as a source of law and legitimacy. Interviews in Kano, Zaria, and Kaduna, May and October 1959; Tunis, January 1960; New York, November, 1961; Kano and Kaduna, August 1963. 38. The name of a NEPU ancillary organization, inaugurated by Aminu Kano, is Nujumu Zaman (start of a new day); others include Zaharal Haq (truth is revealed), and Tab'iunal Haq (the masses will rule those now ruling). 39. The verse of one NEPU song-poem about the educated elite reads: You through hankering for a salaried job your attitude has made a volte-face, so that continually you take the way of corruption. On the day of resurrection, the day of settlement, you will be cast into the fire. Abba Maikwaru, "The song: w e recognize those who have wronged us," pamphlet

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(Kano n.d.). 40. Interview in Tunis, January 1960, Raduna, August 1963. 41. "Presidential Address to the Fifth Annual Conference of the Northern Parties: Elements Progressive Union," quoted in R. L. Sklar, Nigerian Political Power in an Emergent African Nation (Princeton 1963), 372. 42. Northern Nigeria, H. C. Deb., Aug. 19,1950, 5. 43. Proceedings, 1950, loc. cit, 68; c.f. Nigeria, L. C. Deb., Mar. 16,1949, 47. 44. Nigeria, L. C. Deb., Mar. 24, 1947, 212; Aug. 21, 1948, 193; Mar. 16, 1949, 474; Mar. 30, 1949, 723-724; Northern Nigeria, R. C. Deb., Jan. 21, 1947, 17-18; Northern People's Congress, Minutes: Emergency Convention, 1953 (mimeographed n.d.), 1. 45. Nigeria, L. C. Deb., Mar. 24, 1947, 212; c.f. Northern Nigeria, H. A. Deb., Feb. 20,1954, 242-244. 46. Nigeria, H. R. Deb., Mar. 20, 1952, 325. 47. Nigeria, L. C. Deb., Mar. 30, 1949, 724. 48. Northern Nigeria, R. C. Deb., Dec. 11, 1950,105; see also note 44 above. 49. Upon the occasion of British Prime Minister Macmillan's visit to Northern Nigeria, just after the British and Nigerian Federal elections of 1959, the Sardauna remarked that "the conservatives had won in England and the conservatives also won in Nigeria." Northern Nigeria Daily Press Service, No. 87, Jan. 16, 1960. Most likely the Sardauna had in mind a parallel in socio-political history, not a comparison of party manifestoes!

Nigerian Politics: The Ordeal of Chief Awolowo Richard L. Sklar

The time is April 2, 1963; the place is the High Court of Lagos in the capital of the Federation of Nigeria. The eyes of the country are upon an accused person, Chief Obafemi Awolowo, as he begins his defense. Until recently, he has been Leader of the Opposition in Nigeria's federal Parliament. Now, he and twenty others are on trial for plotting to seize power by means of a coup d'état. Originally, thirty-one persons were accused; four of them are still at large outside Nigeria, four were discharged by the trial judge upon completion of the prosecution's case, and two have become witnesses for the Crown. (The British monarch is still Queen of Nigeria. On October 1, 1963, three years to the day after its attainment of independence within the Commonwealth of Nations, Nigeria will become a federal republic.) The specific offenses alleged in this case are treasonable felony, conspiracy to commit treasonable felony, and conspiracy to violate the Firearms Act. There is no jury, and the trial judge may impose a maximum sentence of life imprisonment. Chief Awolowo is a lawyer. He has decided to try his own case since the counsel of his choice, a Briton, has been denied entry into Nigeria. With quiet pride, he says, "By calling I am a politician." Is this a "political trial"? The prosecution will deny that suggestion vehemently and refuse to admit of any concern beyond the particular points of alleged criminal conduct. Nonetheless, the political issues in this trial overshadow the criminal issues that will be determined in court. The principal defendant, one of Africa's best known and most experienced politicians, is notorious for his attempt to commit his party, the Action Group of Nigeria, to an increasingly radical and socialistic course. Deeply divided by this and related causes of controversy, his party has split and suffered a precipitous decline of strength. Awolowo himself is destined to be convicted and sentenced to imprisonment for ten years. Even so, he will retain his prominent position on the Nigerian political stage.

Reprinted from Gwendolen M. Carter (ed.), Politics in Africa: Seven Cases (New York 1966) by permission of the author and Harcourt Brace Jovanovich Inc.

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THE BACKGROUND W h o in that courtroom would not be aware that Chief Awolowo is one of the architects of modern Nigeria? Born in 1909, he completed one year of seco n d a r y s c h o o l b e f o r e g o i n g to w o r k as a t e a c h e r in a p r i m a r y s c h o o l . Subsequently, he w a s e m p l o y e d as a stenographer, a college clerk, and a newspaper reporter. Having determined to study law in Britain, he undertook a succession of business ventures—moneylending, public letterwriting, taxi p r o p r i e t o r s h i p , p r o d u c e b u y i n g , and m o t o r t r a n s p o r t — a l l to little avail. M e a n w h i l e he b e c a m e an influential m e m b e r of v a r i o u s f o r w a r d - l o o k i n g a s s o c i a t i o n s , i n c l u d i n g the n a t i o n a l i s t i c N i g e r i a n Youth M o v e m e n t . H e e a r n e d a c o r r e s p o n d e n c e d e g r e e of B a c h e l o r of C o m m e r c e f r o m t h e University of London. During the Second World War he prospered as a food contractor for the army. By 1944, at the age of 35, his savings supplemented by loans were sufficient to pay for a journey to London where, two years later, he qualified as a member of the bar. In London A w o l o w o also meditated on the course of Nigerian politics and published his thoughts in a small book which earned him a considerable reputation. In Path to Nigerian Freedom, published in London in 1947, he put forth the view that Nigeria was not properly speaking a nation, but "a geographical expression," including within its boundaries various culturall i n g u i s t i c n a t i o n a l i t i e s , e a c h of w h i c h c o n s i s t e d of t r i b e s a n d c l a n s . Furthermore, he maintained that each nationality group has its own indigenous constitution. Under alien rule, he argued, these African "constitutions" were abused and perverted to the detriment of public welfare and peaceful social progress. Here it is g e r m a n e to indicate some of the basic features of Nigeria's social background. Of all countries on the African continent, Nigeria, with a population of more than fifty million, is both the largest and the most obviously divided into linguistic and cultural sections. Though very many African languages are spoken in Nigeria, the three largest linguistic groups are the Hausaspeaking people of northern Nigeria, the Ibo-speaking people of southeastern Nigeria, and the Yoruba-speaking people of southwestern Nigeria. Each forms the largest population group in its section of the country, and these three sections made up the Federation of Nigeria that became independent of Great Britain in 1960. Forming this federation had required major skill and tolerance on the part of the leaders in adjusting and conciliating the interests of various groups, including both the dominant nationalities and the numerous minority groups within each region. The cohesion of the federation has depended upon high-level competence in the conduct of intergroup relations. In Nigeria divisive cultural tendencies are accentuated by wide variations in the regional patterns and traditions of public administration. In northern Nigeria, most of the Hausa-speaking people inhabit the area of the classical e m i r a t e s , w h e r e B r i t i s h a d m i n i s t r a t i o n w a s i n s t i t u t e d on p r i n c i p l e s of

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"indirect rule," meaning government conducted through the medium of traditional authorities. This system of administration was ideally suited to the large-scale indigenous states of Hausaland. These states were ruled according to theocratic principles by Muslim emirs, all of whom owed allegiance to the Sultan of Sokoto. Each state had its nobility and its hierarchy of titled officials. Today the emirates form part of a system of iocal government in which t r a d i t i o n a l rule is m o d i f i e d by the p r a c t i c e of elected r e p r e s e n t a t i o n . However, the traditional authorities remain powerful, and traditional values still shape political developments in the northern part of Nigeria. The British policy of indirect rule was much less successful in the southern part of Nigeria. As implemented by officials of the colonial government, that policy w a s entirely unsuited to the indigenous system of dispersed authority characteristic of the Ibo and other peoples of southeastern Nigeria. In southwestern Nigeria, where the dominant group is Yoruba-speaking, the people have long been organized into large and relatively centralized tribal states, each with its reigning Oba, or king. However, the king's traditional power is stringently limited by custom and by subordinate councils of chiefs representing the major constituent lineages of the state. In a real sense, the political tradition of the Yoruba people is constitutional as well as monarchical. This was not appreciated by British colonialists who undertook to govern the Yoruba states along lines similar to their government of the Hausa states in northern Nigeria. As a result, they converted the constitutional kings into autocratic agents of the colonial administration and transformed the Yoruba states into untraditional despotisms. Inevitably, the movement against British rule involved a protest against the arbitrary rule of the puppet kings; it was expressed in a desire to regenerate the true Yoruba tradition by restoring the balance between kings, chiefs, and people. As a Yoruba intellectual in postwar Nigeria, Awolowo was concerned both with reforming the structure of government in Yorubaland and with ending the regime of British colonial rule. In 1947 the most popular and aggressive section of the Nigerian nationalist movement was led by an Americaneducated journalist of Ibo-speaking extraction, Nnamdi Azikiwe. Besides being the proprietor of an influential daily newspaper in Lagos, the West African Pilot, Azikiwe, then 43, was president of a congress of nationalistic associations called the National Council of Nigeria and the C a m e r o o n s (NCNC). In Lagos, a great cosmopolitan seaport near the western end of the Nigerian coastline, A z i k i w e ' s section of the nationalist m o v e m e n t w a s opposed by some of the most influential leaders of the social, economic, and intellectual life of the city, especially men of Yoruba descent. While the N C N C numbered many Yorubas in its ranks, Azikiwe's personal and political conflict with the social elite of Lagos was far-reaching in its effect and, in later years, proved to be deeply divisive of political opinion throughout Yorubaland. In the immediate postwar period, many western Nigerian nationalists

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who were also antagonistic toward the NCNC joined the Nigerian Youth Movement. Before his residence in London, Awolowo had served the Youth Movement as its provincial secretary at Ibadan, the largest city in Yorubaland (and indeed the largest city of Africans on the continent), ninety miles inland from Lagos. Awolowo's thesis in Path to Nigerian Freedom found favor in Youth Movement circles and among other members of the Yoruba intelligentsia who were anxious to check the spread of the NCNC in the Western provinces. To the idea that every national group has its indigenous constitution that had been corrupted under colonial rule, Awolowo added the dictum that the constitution of each cultural nationality should be its own "domestic concern." Every such nationality is entitled and should be encouraged to develop its own political institutions within the framework of a Nigerian federation. Furthermore, he insisted, it is the "natural right" of the educated minority of each cultural group "to lead their fellow nationals into higher political development." Awolowo's ideas, namely, political reform at the local level, political unity at the cultural level, a federal constitution at the national level, and the assumption of leadership within each cultural group by its educated minority, were to provide an intellectual program for political action by the Yorubaland opposition to Azikiwe. The first step had been taken by Awolowo and several other students in London in 1945, when they established a cultural society, dedicated to the unity and social progress of the Yoruba people, which they called the Society of the Descendants of Oduduwa—the mythical progenitor and culture hero of the Yoruba. In 1948 the society was inaugurated in western Nigeria with Awolowo as its general secretary. Although ostensibly a cultural organization, the society's political significance was unmistakable. It was joined by most of the luminaries of the Yoruba nation, among them many forward-looking obas and chiefs. These men saw that a "revolution from above" was inevitable and were anxious to ensure that it would be led by trusted sons of their communities who were sound in their appreciation of traditional values. It was anticipated that institutional reforms in western Nigeria would, of necessity, include the democratization of local government and related measures affecting the tenure and power of chiefs. Moreover, the constitutional development of Nigeria made it certain that such reforms would be instituted under the direction of elected leaders at the regional government level. The Constitution of 1946 provided for the division of Nigeria into three governmental regions, namely, the Northern, Eastern, and Western Regions. Nigerian nationalists generally condemned this constitution for its failure to provide either democratic representation or responsible government with Nigerians holding ministerial office. The NCNC also objected to regionalization, regarding it as an attempt by the British to perpetuate artificial divisions, which were inimical to the nationalist cause. Under pressure, the colonial government undertook to revise the constitution along more democratic lines. But the tri-regional framework was retained, as we have seen; indeed, it

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found favor with the dominant political groups in northern Nigeria and a m o n g leaders of the Nigerian Youth M o v e m e n t and the Society of the Descendants of Oduduwa in western Nigeria. These latter perceived that, given the cooperation of the Yoruba chiefs, they could win a majority of seats in the Western House of Assembly that would soon be elected on a semidemocratic basis. To accomplish this objective, Awolowo and his associates in the Western Region organized a political party called the Action Group, which emerged from the election of 1951 with a majority in the Western Regional House of Assembly. Members of the Action Group were appointed to ministerial office; Awolowo himself became regional minister of Local Government and Leader of Government Business in the House of Assembly. At the s a m e time that the Action Group came to power in Western Nigeria, nearly all of the elected members of the Eastern House of Assembly declared for its opponent, the NCNC. In the Northern Region an overwhelming majority of the m e m b e r s of the House of Assembly declared for the Northern People's Congress (NPC), a party of moderate nationalists dedicated to the preservation and gradual reform of traditional institutions in that region. Under the Constitution of 1951, each regional House of Assembly elected a s p e c i f i e d n u m b e r of its own m e m b e r s to a central H o u s e of Representatives. For reasons that are not directly pertinent to this account and that need not, therefore, be related here, the Constitution of 1951 proved unworkable and broke down during a political crisis in 1953. At that juncture, representatives of the several political parties met with colonial officials in London to frame a genuinely federal constitution that came into effect in 1954. Under the new constitution, the leader of the majority party in each regional legislature was appointed to the office of Regional Premier. From 1954 to 1959 the destiny of Nigeria was guided by the "Big Three" Premiers: Dr. Nnamdi Azikiwe, premier of the Eastern Region and national president of the NCNC; Alhaji Sir Ahmadu Bello, the Sardauna of Sokoto, Premier of the Northern Region and general president of the Northern People's Congress; Chief Obafemi Awolowo, Premier of the Western Region and federal president of the Action Group of Nigeria. Their respective titles indicate their different paths to power and prestige. Azikiwe, who earned a master's degree in anthropology, holds honorary doctorates of law from three American universities. Ahmadu Bello is a lineal descendant of the founder of the Sokoto empire of the north. He is a devout Muslim and his title, "Alhaji," indicates that he has made a pilgrimage to Mecca. He has also been knighted by the Queen. Sardauna, a traditional title, identifies him as councilor to the Sultan of Sokoto. In Awolowo's case, the title " C h i e f ' does not signify a traditional ruler. A m o n g the Yoruba, it is customary for honorary chieftaincy titles to be conferred upon eminent men in recognition of their personal achievements and services to their local communities. Awolowo holds several such "courtesy titles," which were conferred upon him by the traditional chiefs of various Yoruba communities after he became Premier.

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The chronology of Nigerian political development from 1954 to 1960 may be outlined briefly. In 1954 federal elections were held for the first time. T h e c o n s t i t u t i o n p r o v i d e d f o r the a p p o i n t m e n t o f n i n e f e d e r a l ministers—three from among the federal legislators elected in each region. It further s t i p u l a t e d that if no o n e party had a m a j o r i t y in the H o u s e of Representatives, federal ministers were to be appointed f r o m a m o n g the majority party in the House from each region. Contrary to expectation, the N C N C won a majority of the seats in the West as well as in the East, giving it the right to designate six out of the nine federal ministers. The largest single b l o c k of r e p r e s e n t a t i v e s in the f e d e r a l h o u s e , however, b e l o n g e d to the Northern People's Congress, owing to the fact that the Northern Region had some 54 percent of the Nigerian population. Consequently, the N C N C and the N P C formed a "government" (as yet no provision had been made for the office of Prime Minister of the Federation), while the Action Group provided the federal "opposition." Each party then turned with alacrity to the task of consolidating its power in its region of primary strength. T w o parties—the N C N C and the Action Group—sought to compete on a nation-wide basis: the N C N C had confirmed areas of strength in the Western Region and a strong ally, the radical Northern Elements Progressive Union ( N E P U ) , in the Northern R e g i o n ; the Action Group decided to exploit oppositional tendencies, first among non-Ibo groups in the Eastern R e g i o n , and subsequently a m o n g non-Hausa groups in the Northern Region. In 1957 constitutional provision was m a d e for a Prime Minister of the Federation, who would be empowered to choose his cabinet in the normal w a y without regard to regional representation. All parties agreed to the appointment of Alhaji Sir Abubakar T a f a w a Balewa, vice-president of the Northern P e o p l e ' s C o n g r e s s and l e a d e r of that party in the H o u s e of Representatives, as the first Prime Minister. Sir A b u b a k a r then formed a national government, including ministers from the Action Group as well as the N P C and the N C N C . A second federal election, held in 1959, revealed the decisive supremacy of each regional government party in the majority group sector of each region. All told, the Northern People's Congress emerged from the election with a strong p l u r a l i t y — 1 4 2 seats out of a total of 3 1 2 ; the N C N C / N E P U alliance ran second with 89; the Action Group trailed with 73. By this time, the relationship between the N P C and the Action Group had become bitterly antagonistic, mainly as a result of the Action Group's determined campaign for the creation of a new region in the main minority group area of the North and its simultaneous demand for a revision of the North-West boundary so as to transfer s o m e 5 0 0 , 0 0 0 Northern Yorubas to the Western Region. In fact, the Action Group campaigned for the creation of a new state in each of the existing regions prior to independence. Meanwhile, the N C N C had established a notably cordial relationship with the N P C , notwithstanding its traditional alliance with the radical N E P U . After the election, the N P C and the

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N C N C formed a coalition g o v e r n m e n t with Alhaji Sir Abubakar Tafawa Balewa as Prime Minister once again. Azikiwe, who had been elected to the House of Representatives, resigned his seat to assume the largely ceremonial office of President of the newly created Nigerian Senate; subsequently, he withdrew from active politics to become Governor-General of Nigeria, the titular head of state. Chief Awolowo became Leader of the federal Opposition, while the Sardauna of Sokoto, the only major leader who did not stand for the federal Parliament, remained in office as Premier of the North. THE GATHERING STORM In 1960 the Action Group presented a formidable front of opposition to the federal government coalition. Over half the Action Group members of the House of Representatives had been elected in minority group constituencies of the Northern and Eastern Regions by voters w h o responded to agitation for the creation of n e w states. Action Group operations in the Northern and Eastern Regions were financed liberally out of revenues raised in the relatively p r o s p e r o u s Western Region. For s o m e dozen years, the e c o n o m y of Western Nigeria had been relatively buoyant, owing to a postwar boom in the world price of that region's main export crop, cocoa. Upon this foundation of agricultural prosperity, a new class rapidly developed. Within its compass were many affluent b u s i n e s s m e n , including merchants, produce traders, transport owners, building contractors, financiers, and incipient industrialists, most of whom supported the regional government party morally and with money. The party, in turn, fostered the creation of profitable opportunities for private enterprise. It used commercial patronage freely, including the allocation of loans, contracts, and trading licenses, to secure the support of businessmen and to guarantee a steady flow of funds into party coffers. For these and related reasons elaborated below, the Action Group had never been deficient in funds; it was, in fact, much better off financially than either of its major rivals, and it was reported to have spent no less than £1 million on the federal election of 1959, considerably more than the combined expenditures of all other parties. No effort was spared in creating vigorous units of the party in all parts of the Federation. W i t h i n the party, s u p r e m e a u t h o r i t y has b e e n vested in an annual Congress, comprising two representatives of every federal parliamentary constituency, members of Parliament, and various other specified leaders. The principal executive body is the Federal Executive Council, which consists of more than one hundred members, including the federal officers, the several parliamentary leaders, and representatives of the several regions. Between meetings of the Federal Executive Council, control of the party is delegated to a much smaller working committee. In addition, the party's constitution provides for the formation of a parliamentary council in each legislature of the Federation. Each parliamentary leader is elected by a joint meeting of the

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parliamentary council concerned (comprising all members of the party in the legislature) and either the regional executive committee concerned or, in the case of the federal parliamentary leader, the Federal Executive Council. Provision is also made for the election of a supreme parliamentary leader, styled Leader of the Party, and a Deputy Leader of the Party, by a joint meeting of all parliamentary councils and the Federal Executive Council. Finally, these organizational arrangements are reinforced by periodic meetings of leaders, prominent members, and supporters of the party, which have been convened by the Leader of the Party. In 1959 Chief Awolowo resigned as Premier of Western Nigeria to stand in the federal election. He was replaced by the Deputy Leader of the Party, Chief Samuel Ladoke Akintola, who had been the party's federal parliamentary leader and a federal minister in the national government of 1957-59. Like A w o l o w o , Akintola earned his political s p u r s in the Nigerian Youth Movement. Subsequently, he studied law in London and served as legal adviser to the pan-Yoruba cultural society—the aforementioned Society of the Descendants of Oduduwa. An early member of the Action Group, he was elected Deputy Leader of the Party in 1955. His several chieftaincy titles, like those of Awolowo, are "courtesy" titles conferred upon him by the traditional chiefs of Yoruba communities. It has been alleged that Chief Awolowo was not altogether happy about the choice of Chief Akintola to succeed him as Premier of the Western Region. While there are no sure signs of serious deterioration in the political relationship of the two men prior to this time, Awolowo must have known that Akintola would be a forceful and self-reliant Premier. Akintola is only one year younger than Awolowo; his position in the old Nigerian Youth Movement as sometime editor of its official organ, the Daily Service, and as chairman of its Lagos branch in 1950 was somewhat more distinguished than that of Awolowo himself. If, as was later alleged, Awolowo meant to retain his personal control of the Western Regional government through intermediaries who were installed as directors of regional statutory corporations, he might h a v e a n t i c i p a t e d o b j e c t i o n s on the part of the new P r e m i e r . Nonetheless, Akintola was a logical choice, not only by virtue of his standing in the party but in view of his probable popularity with sections of the Yoruba electorate which heretofore had lacked enthusiasm for the Action Group. In point of fact, the Action Group under Awolowo had never been a popular party in Ibadan, the capital city of the Western Region. Ibadan and its environs contain the largest compact population group in Western Nigeria. Traditionally, the Ibadan community is part of the Oyo Yoruba kingdom. Although A k i n t o l a is not a son of Ibadan, he d o e s hail from a town (Ogbomosho) with whose people the Ibadan people have a close traditional connection. They are all Oyo Yoruba. Awolowo, on the other hand, belongs to the Ijebu Yoruba with whom the Ibadan people have a longstanding rivalry. Specifically, the Ibadan have resented the economic and social ascendancy of

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Ijebu settlers in their city, which is, to be sure, the a d m i n i s t r a t i v e and commercial center of the Western Region. It is precisely this kind of divisive rivalry between traditional Yoruba groups that the Society of the Descendants of Oduduwa was designed to eliminate. Awolowo, who was secretary-general of the Society, established his law practice at Ibadan, but he was identified by the local people with Ijebu interests, and he failed to capture their hearts. Ibadan, therefore, was a stronghold of the NCNC in Yorubaland, and the Action Group hoped that the installation of an Oyo Yoruba, in the person of Akintola, as Premier of the West would sway the minds of the Ibadan people. This hope was partially realized in the regional election of 1960; the Action Group made substantial gains in Ibadan and was returned to power by the regional electorate as a whole, with a solid majority in the Western House of Assembly. Firmly entrenched in the Western Region, Action Group leaders evaluated the strengths and weaknesses of their total situation. They agreed that under existing conditions their party on its own was unlikely to be voted into power in the federal government. Two schools of thought developed: one, looking toward the formation of a progressive alliance that would be able to dislodge the conservative regime in Northern Nigeria, favored a policy of collaboration with the NCNC; the other, concerned with preserving the political status quo in Western Nigeria and with securing for the Western Region full federal recognition in matters of national planning, opted for collaboration with the Northern People's Congress within the framework of a national government that would include the ruling elements of all the regions. These two rival schools of thought polarized opinion within the Action Group on other related issues. Those who favored closer cooperation with the N C N C hoped to revive that party's traditional spirit of antiregionalism in order to effect the division of Nigeria, especially Northern Nigeria, into more states. Those who leaned toward collaboration with the Northern People's Congress reverted to the Action Group's earlier regionalist viewpoint as a dictate of political prudence. Logically, the antiregionalist position attracted those who would not greatly regret the passing of capitalistic and, in the case of the North, of quasi-feudalistic social systems based on established regional power. Antiregionalism, therefore, went hand in hand with egalitarian socialism, while the regionalist viewpoint appealed more strongly to members of the incumbent political class, defined to mean those persons who controlled the dominant institutions of society. Within the Action Group, radical antiregionalism was championed by the Leader of the federal Opposition, Chief Awolowo. Some would attribute his seemingly sudden swing to the left mainly to motivations of a basically opportunistic sort. Undoubtedly, he did think and say that the Action Group would c o m e to power only, if at all, as a party of popular protest against the existing social and political order. Others would interpret his ideological reorientation in a different vein as the outcome of his i n c r e a s i n g l y clear p e r c e p t i o n of the m a j o r f a u l t s in N i g e r i a ' s political

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e c o n o m y . T h e s e e x p l a n a t i o n s are not m u t u a l l y e x c l u s i v e . In any c a s e , Awolowo rallied the radicals in his party, while the more conservative members gravitated to the leadership of the Western R e g i o n a l Premier, Chief Akintola. In m i d - S e p t e m b e r , 1 9 6 0 , on the eve o f national independence, Chief Awolowo presided over a lengthy meeting of the Federal Executive Council of the Action Group. Commenting on the political situation, he took note of rumors that once independence had been achieved the federal government would look for a pretext to dissolve the Western Regional Government and impose a caretaker regime in its place in order to destroy the institutional foundations of the Action Group. S o m e leaders of the party, he said, contemplated secession from the Federation in the event of "unconstitutional" action by the federal government. Awolowo did not favor the idea of secession nor did be believe the Action Group should join a new national government that would include all the regional government parties. In his view, "virile opposition" w a s essential to the well-being of Nigeria. "If there is any fear for the Action G r o u p , " he said, "it is not fear originating from without, but from within." To deal effectively with these pressing problems, Awolowo proposed the creation of two special committees, one on ideology and one on tactics. With the agreement of the Federal Executive Council, Awolowo appointed four persons of known socialistic sympathies to serve with him on the ideological committee. The Federal Executive Council also agreed that Awolowo should be solely responsible for the functioning of the tactical committee, that its membership w o u l d be secret, and that it would not be required to submit reports to the Executive Council but would recommend specific courses of action as necessary. In confirmation of the Action Group's turn leftward from liberalism, the party's annual congress adopted a manifesto which espoused the philosophy of "democratic s o c i a l i s m . " The new party program envisaged the construction of a " m i x e d socialist economy," combining elements of public and private enterprise within the f r a m e w o r k of a c o m p r e h e n s i v e national plan. Awolowo then toured Nigeria to propagate the ideas of his party and to perfect its organization in various parts of the country. His public and parliamentary speeches throughout 1961 revealed the markedly leftward tendency of his thought. One recurrent theme w a s criticism of the growing domination of Nigeria's economy by imperialistic, capitalist interests. In June, 1961, Chief A w o l o w o went to A c c r a , G h a n a , f o r d i s c u s s i o n s with President K w a m e N k r u m a h . T h e r e a f t e r his c r i t i c i s m s of N i g e r i a n f o r e i g n p o l i c y b e c a m e increasingly explicit, and he seemed to align his party with the Ghanaian (and the radical Casablanca group's) persuasion in pan-African affairs. Behind the scenes, Awolowo took steps to promote his grand design for the unity of " p r o g r e s s i v e " elements in opposition to the Northern People's C o n g r e s s . C e n t r a l to his thought w a s the idea that A z i k i w e , G o v e r n o r

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General of the Federation, should be persuaded to return to active politics as the titular leader of the progressive movement. Tactfully, Awolowo pursued the goal of rapprochement with his former rival. He made a speech in Eastern Nigeria supporting the election of Azikiwe as the first President of a Nigerian republic. He discussed the question of political realignment with leading members of the NCNC, designated a few trusted associates to conduct negotiations in his behalf, and raised the matter personally in conversation with Azikiwe. All the while, he made preparations to intensify the propagation of Action Group ideas. In this connection, he solicited the aid of certain nonparty intellectuals who were sympathetic to the creed of democratic socialism. He valued their intelligence and they, in turn, were ready with ideas to remedy the ills of Nigerian society. In October, 1961, Awolowo formed a study group called the National Reconstruction Committee, which included about one dozen persons, among them university lecturers and professors, some of whom were not actually members of his party. T h e m e m b e r s of this committee produced several working papers on various topics, including the case for austerity measures in government, the implications of a commitment to the creed of democratic socialism, economic planning, and pan-African affairs. These papers were submitted to the Federal Executive Council in December, 1961. The paper on austerity measures, deploring the extravagant financial benefits extended at public expense to governmental ministers and civil servants, appears to have occasioned bitter debate; a few party leaders are reported to have alleged that Awolowo had fallen into the hands of "communists." On February 2, 1962, Awolowo delivered a presidential address to the Action Group congress, assembled at Jos, in the Northern Region. In candor, he said, we must admit, "openly for once," the existence of "real and dangerous contradictions" within the party. He took note of "a growing disaffection between privileged and non-privileged classes (so-called) within the party." He also referred to several basic policy conflicts: on the question of sustaining the Action Group as an opposition party in the Northern and Eastern Regions, on the issue of pressing for the creation of new states, on the desirability of joining the N P C - N C N C coalition to form a national government, and finally on the adoption of an explicitly socialistic program. Awolowo reaffirmed his advocacy of socialism, the creation of more states, and the maintenance of a vigorous opposition in the North, but he refrained from an explicit attack on Chief Akintola, and, in contrast to the recent editorial statements of newspapers under his control, spoke only in praise of the Western Regional government. Debate on the address occupied two full days. After the first day, Chief Akintola, his close associate, Chief Ayotunde Rosiji, who was federal secretary of the party, and six of their supporters (including five ministers in the Western Regional government) withdrew from the congress and returned to Ibadan, o s t e n s i b l y to greet the N o r t h e r n R e g i o n a l P r e m i e r , A l h a j i Sir

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Ahmadu Bello, the Sardauna of Sokoto, upon the occasion of the latter's visit to the capital of the Western Region. In the absence of the federal secretary, the latter's report was debated by the Congress and rejected. Chief Rosiji had drawn attention to the Action Group's electoral decline in the Eastern and Northern Regions during the previous year and had emphasized the consolidation of power by each major party in its regional stronghold. (In an election to the Northern House of Assembly in May, 1961, the Action Group won 9 seats to 156 for the Northern People's Congress; the N E P U w a s held to a single seat. In the Eastern Regional election of November, 1961, the Action Group's percentage of the vote had declined sharply from 1959: the Action Group won 15 seats in the House of Assembly to 106 for the NCNC and 25 for other parties and independent candidates.) In addition, Chief Rosiji had circulated a memorandum containing personal proposals for the termination of party competition in Nigeria and for the merger of all political elements in a nonpartisan Nigerian Peoples United Front. Following the rejection of Rosiji's report, the Congress amended the constitution of the party to exclude regional ministers as such from membership in the Federal Executive Council and to provide for the removal of a parliamentary leader by the body which elected him. The new version read: If in the opinion of the Federal Executive Council the Leader of the Party, the Deputy Leader of the Party, or any of the Parliamentary Leaders in the Legislatures has lost the confidence of the Party, the President of the Party shall s u m m o n a m e e t i n g of the appropriate body w h i c h elected him and require the meeting either to affirm their confidence in the person concerned or elect a successor.

Resolutions on matters of policy adopted by the congress confirmed the clear ascendancy of Awolowo's faction. Finally, supporters of Awolowo were elected to the key federal offices, in particular S. G. Ikoku, Leader of the Opposition in the Eastern House of Assembly and known for his leftwing socialist views, was elected to replace Chief Rosiji as federal secretary. Akintola's position in the Action Group was clearly imperiled. MOMENTS OF CONFRONTATION When the Congress adjourned, Awolowo summoned a joint meeting of the Western Regional Executive Committee and the Western Parliamentary Council, apparently to implement the new constitutional clause and thereby to secure the removal of Akintola. His action was intercepted, however, by the intervention of party "elders" who summoned a peace meeting at Ibadan. The leading spirits of reconciliation were Akinola Maja, who held the personal honorary office of "Father of the Party," and the constitutional Governor of the Western Region, Sir Adesoji Aderemi II, the Oni of Ife. Once president of the

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Nigerian Youth M o v e m e n t , M a j a , a doctor of medicine, businessman, and f i n a n c i e r of r e p u t e , w a s also p r e s i d e n t of the Society of D e s c e n d a n t s of Oduduwa. The Governor, a preeminent Oba in Yorubaland (his title, Oni, is the distinctive title of the Oba or king of Ife), had long been associated with the journalistic and political ventures of Chief Awolowo. On February 9, 1962, he presided over a meeting attended by one hundred people, mainly members of the old ruling element of the Action Group—persons who were prominent in business and professional circles in addition to influential chiefs. Perhaps, they hoped, the antagonists could be persuaded to resolve their dispute, if for no other reason than to avert a political calamity in Yorubaland. Akintola m a d e the first complaint: he said that A w o l o w o ' s allusion in his presidential address to their dispute over the formation of a national government w a s contrary to their previous agreement not to air it publicly at the c o n g r e s s . In reply, A w o l o w o a c c u s e d his d e p u t y of h a v i n g a t t e m p t e d to undermine his position as leader of the party in order to usurp it. He claimed to have been i n f o r m e d that Akintola had alleged to other m e m b e r s of the party that he, Awolowo, was then planning to overthrow the federal government by means of a coup d'état. Akintola and two other persons concerned, both ministers in the Western Regional government, denied this accusation v e h e m e n t l y , but an i m p o r t a n t p a r t y o f f i c i a l ( T h e P r i n c i p a l O r g a n i z i n g Secretary) corroborated A w o l o w o ' s story. In view of the gravity of this accusation, the Governor, in consultation with the other chiefs present, decided, contrary to the wishes of both Akintola and Awolowo, not to proceed with an inquiry then but to adjourn the meeting and refer the dispute to a more select body of "elders." Ten days later, on February 19, the rival leaders met with twelve of the most important elders and chiefs associated with the Action Group. Awolowo a l l e g e d o n c e m o r e that A k i n t o l a c o n n i v e d at his p o l i t i c a l l i q u i d a t i o n . Akintola replied to the effect that Awolowo had been adamant in his opposition to Action Group participation in a national government. At one point, Akintola w a s alleged to have said that there could be no peaceful alternative to positive political cooperation with elements then dominant in the federal government. Three witnesses, two of them supporting Akintola, were questioned i n c o n c l u s i v e l y . Finally, A w o l o w o w a s asked to accept A k i n t o l a ' s denial of the s p e c i f i c allegation that he had spread any r u m o r concerning A w o l o w o ' s involvement in plans for a coup d'état. A f t e r this meeting, A w o l o w o m a d e an attempt to appear open-minded on the national government issue. He set up a committee under Akintola's chairm a n s h i p to c o n s i d e r w h a t r e s p o n s e the Action G r o u p w o u l d m a k e in the event of an invitation f r o m the Prime Minister to join a national government. H e even discussed this matter personally with the Prime Minister. However, he m a d e it clear to his associates that, in the event of a national government, he would not be willing to accept office in it as a minister or even as the Deputy P r i m e Minister.

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In March and April, an appearance of party unity at least at the parliamentary level w a s maintained. Following the example of Chief Awolowo's contingent in the House of Representatives, the Action Group majority in the Western H o u s e of A s s e m b l y declared its opposition to the creation of a Midwestern Region (as a new constituent unit of the Federation) unless certain s p e c i f i e d a r e a s , m a i n l y Y o r u b a - s p e a k i n g , w e r e e x c i s e d f r o m it. (In Midwestern Nigeria, Edo-speaking groups constitute a majority of the population. There is also a large Ibo-speaking minority in addition to other linguistic groups.) Moreover, the Action Group insisted that new regions should also be created in the North and the East. Obviously, this decision to reiterate its demand that five new states should be created in Northern territory conflicted with the notion of cooperation at the federal level with the Northern People's Congress. Under the surface, the struggle continued without abatement. The newly elected federal secretary, S . G. Ikoku, took steps to tighten central control of the secretariat cadres at local levels. Akintola countered this move by demoting, removing, or threatening to remove certain members of the boards of directors of regional statutory corporations who sided openly with Awolowo. Moreover, he w a s alleged to have instructed all officeholders, including legislators, from his home division of Oshun to donate their party tithes—the 10 percent of their salaries and emoluments which they had to contribute to the party—to a special "fighting fund." In these bleak circumstances, the party elders made a last vain attempt to arrest the debacle. Another peace meeting, on May 16, 1962, actually produced a compromise agreement. But Chief Awolowo could not be dissuaded from his resolve to press for a decisive conclusion. On Saturday, M a y 19, he addressed a joint meeting of the Western and Midwestern executive committees, accusing Chief Akintola of "maladministration, anti-party activities, and indiscipline." Specifically, he alleged that the Regional Premier had squandered public funds through the allowances and expense accounts of regional ministers and legislators, that he had threatened and victimized loyal party men in the regional administration, that he had m a d e major policy decisions with regard to taxation, school fees, and the level of price support for cocoa without consulting his party leader, that he opposed the party's ideology of democratic socialism, and that he advocated the cessation of Action Group efforts in the Northern and Eastern Regions. A k i n t o l a ' s reply had little effect. A motion finding him guilty on all counts w a s passed by a unanimous vote. Reluctantly, upon the advice of certain influential friends, he tendered a full apology to the party. Nonetheless, a second resolution, demanding his immediate resignation as Premier of the West and Deputy Leader of the Party, was carried 81 votes to 29. On the following day, these resolutions were endorsed by a unanimous v o t e of the party's Federal Executive Council. Then the parliamentary councils of the Action Group, meeting jointly with the Federal Executive Council, deposed

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Chief Akintola from his office of Deputy Leader of the Party and, in view of his refusal to resign, called upon the Governor to remove him from the office of Premier. Chief Akintola, in turn, asked the Governor to dissolve the Western House of Assembly. But the Action Group determined to force Akintola into the political wilderness without the benefit of a general election. For one thing, the party was short of funds; for another, Akintola was feared as a resourceful foe who might turn divisive tendencies, resulting from the recent radicalization of the party, to his advantage in an election. On Monday, May 21, sixty-five members of the House of Assembly (out of a total membership of 117) petitioned the Governor of Western Nigeria to remove Chief Akintola from his office on the constitutional ground that he no longer commanded the support of a majority of the assemblymen. The Governor agreed with the party; he refused Akintola's request for a dissolution and dismissed him from office. Alhaji D. S. Adegbenro, newly designated by the party as its parliamentary leader in the West, was then sworn in as Premier. Akintola fought back. He asked the Ibadan High Court to invalidate the Governor's action, he petitioned the Prime Minister and the Queen to remove Sir Adesoji from his post as Governor of the Western Region, and, symbolically, he forced his way into the Premier's office, which had been locked. On May 25 the House of Assembly met at the request of Alhaji Adegbenro to debate a vote of confidence in the new government. Suddenly and without provocation, at the moment when a member rose to make a motion, some members supporting Chief Akintola, known to number ten in all, began to throw chairs and to commit other violent and disorderly acts in the chamber. Federal policemen, standing by, put an end to the commotion by releasing tear gas in the chamber. Now, the issue turned on the action of the police. As a result of constitutional provisions designed to safeguard the unity of the Nigerian Federation, control of the Nigerian police is vested in the federal government. Both Awolowo, who had witnessed the disturbance from the gallery of the House, and the new Premier-Designate, Adegbenro, telephoned the federal Prime M i n i s t e r in L a g o s , a p p e a l i n g to him f o r p o l i c e p r o t e c t i o n w i t h i n the A s s e m b l y c h a m b e r . T h e A k i n t o l a f a c t i o n , h o w e v e r , w a r n e d the Prime Minister against permitting another meeting. The Prime Minister then issued a statement acknowledging the right of the House to reassemble on that day. Although he would not provide police protection within the chamber, the police, he said, might be present if any party so insisted. However, he added, the federal government would not accept any decision reached in the course of a meeting so guarded. This ruling implied that the federal government would not recognize Adegbenro as Premier if policemen were in the chamber when he received a vote of confidence. Finally, in the event of a second outbreak of violence or disorder, Sir A b u b a k a r instructed the police "to clear the C h a m b e r and lock it u p . "

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D i s o r d e r did, in f a c t , take p l a c e a g a i n within a f e w hours of the Prime Minister's statement. Sir Abubakar then summoned the Federal Parliament to meet on May 29. A motion declaring the existence of a state of public emergency in the Western Region, made by the Prime Minister and supported by the N P C , the N C N C , and followers of Chief Akintola, w a s carried by a vote of 2 3 2 to 44. Various regulations based on a previously enacted Emergency Powers Act were also approved; these provided for the appointment of an Administrator who would govern the Region during the period of emergency. The Governor, Premier, ministers, and other o f f i c i a l s were removed f r o m office, and " c o m m i s s i o n e r s " were appointed to discharge ministerial functions. Moreover, wide police powers of an exceptional nature, including censorship, curfew, search, detention, and restriction, were conferred upon the Administrator. To this office Sir Abubakar appointed his Minister of Health, Senator M. A . Majekodunmi, a distinguished gynecologist (and, incidentally, a Yoruba). A n academic observer, John P. Mackintosh, then senior lecturer at the University of Ibadan, has described the sequel in this way: A s soon as he a s s u m e d power, the Administrator restricted all leading and m a n y s e c o n d a r y p o l i t i c i a n s to p l a c e s o u t s i d e I b a d a n , in s o m e c a s e s to e x t r e m e l y r e m o t e v i l l a g e s . B y the end of two m o n t h s virtually all the Akintola group and N C N C men were freed, but the officeholders and many of the principal organizers of the Action G r o u p remained restricted. Progovernment n e w s p a p e r s declared that only evidence of penitence and the a b a n d o n m e n t o f all conduct likely to arouse political p a s s i o n s w o u l d b e grounds for releasing these men. But such a criterion could be applied to any revival of normal political activities by the Action Group. . . . All public meetings and processions were banned for the month of June despite c o m plete calm throughout the Region. Five weeks after the state of emergency had been declared, two leading A G journalists. . . were restricted to distant places in the Delta for what appeared to be normal journalistic criticism of the conduct of the Federal Government and Dr. Majekodunmi. On A u g u s t 9, 1 9 6 2 a further regulation under the Emergency Powers Act added two categories to the types of publications that could be prohibited and punished. A n y person publishing matter likely to excite ill-will between sections of the c o m m u n i t y or to e x p o s e any part or m e m b e r of the g o v e r n m e n t to hatred, ridicule, or contempt " b e c a m e liable to two years' imprisonment on s u m m a r y convictions. 1

This account suggests the increasingly obvious partiality of the Federal Emergency Administration for Akintola's side. Whatever hopes m a y have been entertained by the Awolowo faction steadily declined. Chief A w o l o w o w a s at first restricted to his home at Ikenne, midway between L a g o s and I b a d a n , w h e r e he w a s a c c e s s i b l e to h i s s u p p o r t e r s a n d the p r e s s . Subsequently, he w a s removed to a remote district, but he was brought back to L a g o s in July and housed in his usual residence there so that he might be available to participate in the p r o c e e d i n g s of a tribunal appointed by the

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federal government to investigate the administration and finances of the Western Region. BATTERING THE ACTION GROUP To investigate the finances of the Western Regional government meant, first of all, to inquire into its relations with local banks. For several years prior to independence, the Western Regional government had given support to banking institutions owned by Nigerians who were associated with the Action Group. The one such bank of major importance was the National Bank of Nigeria Limited—the oldest and most successful of the private, Nigerianowned banks then in existence—in which the Western Region Marketing Board had made an investment of £1 million. The political significance of the National Bank lies in the fact that it has provided loan facilities both to businessmen who support the Action Group and to the party itself. Furthermore, until 1960 the National Bank was the major shareholder in the Amalgamated Press of Nigeria Limited, the publisher of a national newspaper aligned with the Action Group. In addition, the bank provided generous loan assistance to yet another publishing company, Allied Newspapers Limited, which published an Action Group chain of sectional newspapers. In 1961 the federal government prepared to launch an inquiry into the conduct of the National Bank. T h i s m a n e u v e r ran a f o u l of the f e d e r a l S u p r e m e C o u r t , w h i c h ruled c e r t a i n s e c t i o n s of the p e r t i n e n t act of Parliament invalid under the constitution. (Thus far, this has been the only such e x e r c i s e of p o w e r by the S u p r e m e C o u r t s i n c e i n d e p e n d e n c e . ) Nonetheless, the bank was in serious trouble: a report by banking inspectors to the federal Minister of Finance revealed that its liquidity position, or ratio of deposits to reserves, had deteriorated to a financially precarious and legally questionable point. As a result, the Minister indicated that, in accordance with the Banking Ordinance, he might take action to revoke the National Bank's license to operate. In order to avert that danger, the Western Regional government, accepting a recommendation of the federal inspectors, took over the bank: the regional marketing board invested £2 million in the bank and converted its previous investment of £1 million from non-participating preference shares into ordinary equity shares. Inevitably, the National Bank of Nigeria Limited was a prime target of the Commission of Inquiry appointed by the federal government in 1962 to examine the affairs of statutory corporations in the Western Region. The commission sat for ninety-two days, from July to November, under the chairmanship of Judge G. B. A. Coker of the Lagos High Court. It found that the National Bank had, in fact, made unsecured loans to the Action Group through the medium of fictitious accounts and that, on one occasion, it had concealed the party's actual indebtedness to the bank from a federal examiner. But disclosures of a far more damaging character were made with respect to yet another company, the

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National Investment and Properties Company Limited, which was owned in its entirety by four leading members of the Action Group who were also its directors. This company had been created in 1958, ostensibly to develop properties then owned by the National B a n k . But its chief purpose, the c o m m i s s i o n found, for which allowance had in fact been made in the company's articles of association, w a s " t o subscribe or guarantee money for charitable political objects." Three of the four owner-directors of the company were prominent b u s i n e s s m e n holding high o f f i c e in the Action G r o u p ; one o f them w a s Akinola Maja, the "Father of the Party." The fourth owner, the personal political secretary to Chief Awolowo, was also the director of the Western Nigeria Development Corporation. It came to light that the shares held by all four owner-directors of the N I P C were purchased with funds diverted from the company itself. The commission of inquiry also disclosed that this company had received loans in excess of £ 6 million from the Western Region Marketing Board. (In Nigeria, the regional marketing boards purchase export crops from farmers at stabilized prices for sale abroad. They are also empowered to supply capital to statutory corporations in furtherance of e c o n o m i c d e v e l o p m e n t . ) Over £ 2 million more, allocated by the marketing board to the Western Nigeria Development Corporation, had a l s o been diverted to the company, which realized c l o s e to another million pounds from the sale of property to the Western Regional government at inflated prices, and by other means of questionable legality. D u r i n g this period, mainly between 1959 and 1 9 6 1 , the company contributed more than £ 4 million to the Action Group. It also settled the party's debt to the National B a n k and, in 1 9 6 0 , it took over the National B a n k ' s various commitments to publishing enterprises. The N I P C a l s o entered into a f i f t y - f i f t y p a r t n e r s h i p with the C a n a d i a n p u b l i s h e r , Thomson International Limited, to inaugurate a new national daily newspaper aligned with the Action Group. In the course of its investigation, the commission also revealed instances of grave maladministration and misappropriation of public funds for party political purposes. It found that a few individuals profited personally from such transactions, but this w a s a decidedly minor aspect of its report. The c o m m i s s i o n ' s primary impact w a s plainly political, and it came down hard against Chief A w o l o w o , who w a s alleged to have chosen all four ownerdirectors of the N I P C and to have had full knowledge of the surreptitious means whereby public funds had been diverted into the coffers of the Action Group. " H i s s c h e m e , " the commissioners wrote in their official report, " w a s to build around him with money an empire financially formidable both in Nigeria and abroad, an empire in which dominance would be maintained by him by the power of the money which he had given out." Akintola w a s described politely as having been " a veritable deputy who all a l o n g the line had relied upon his l e a d e r . " T h e c o m m i s s i o n e r s w e r e satisfied that he did not know that the N I P C had been formed to finance the

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Action Group, nor had he been aware that the company had borrowed large sums of money from the Western Regional government for that purpose. They observed that he did not even know about a loan of £2.2 million to the N I P C w h i c h he w a s alleged to have a p p r o v e d . R e f e r e n c e w a s m a d e to Awolowo's indictment of Akintola at the joint meeting of the Action Group Western and Midwestern executive committees on May 19. Awolowo was alleged to have charged that the Western Premier had contrived to starve the party of funds by his refusal to hand back to the NIPC the titles to certain properties that had been deposited with the regional government as security for previous loans. Akintola's alleged obstinacy on this point was said to have denied the company a means whereby it might raise additional mortgage finance from other sources. The commission pointed out that A w o l o w o ' s indictment of his then deputy leader was made despite the fact that a compromise agreement had been negotiated at the informal "peace meeting" of May 16. Awolowo was alleged to have repudiated the terms of this agreement because they detracted from his virtually unlimited power to manage the finances of the party. Everything considered, the commissioners agreed to accept Akintola's version of the dispute and to "absolve him on all grounds." The Coker Commission's report of December, 1962, set the stage for Chief Akintola's reinstatement as Premier of the Western Region. Earlier, in July, the federal Supreme Court had ruled that the ex-Governor of Western Nigeria had acted unconstitutionally in removing the Premier from office in the absence of an adverse vote on the floor of the H o u s e of Assembly. Although the constitutional provision under which the Governor acted did not specifically require a formal resolution by the House of Assembly, the court decided that it should be interpreted in the light of pertinent conventions of the British constitution. This holding was not unanimous and the respondent, Alhaji Adegbenro, was given leave to appeal to Nigeria's highest court of appeal, the Privy Council in London. While the Coker Commission was in session Chief Awolowo appears to have tried to negotiate a settlement with the Prime Minister; they are reported to have met on two occasions in August. But a new and alarming turn of events came in September, when an arms plot involving members of the Action Group was uncovered by the police in Lagos. Awolowo was placed under house arrest in Lagos, his home in Ikenne was searched, and the Prime Minister spoke of the existence of a secret army organization. In November formal charges of treasonable felony were made against Chief Awolowo and thirty other persons. These charges included an alleged conspiracy to effect a coup d'état in Lagos in September on the occasion of a state visit there by Indian Prime Minister Nehru. Awolowo then declined to participate any further in the proceedings of the Coker Commission of Inquiry. Four of the accused persons fled the country; one of them, S. G. Ikoku, the federal secretary, took a position at the K w a m e Nkrumah Institute of Political Education in Ghana; another, Chief Anthony Enahoro, the second

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v i c e - p r e s i d e n t of the A c t i o n G r o u p and A w o l o w o ' s p r i n c i p a l d e p u t y in Parliament, w h e r e he w a s the party's spokesman on foreign affairs, sought asylum in Britain. Under the Fugitive Offenders Act of 1881, the British gove r n m e n t is b o u n d to h o n o r a r e q u e s t f o r e x t r a d i t i o n b y a n o t h e r Commonwealth country unless it concludes that the accused person might not be given a fair trial. In other words, the Commonwealth citizen as a politicalcriminal exile could not expect the protection that Britain would normally accord to an o r d i n a r y alien. A f t e r five m o n t h s of w r a n g l i n g , w h i c h w a s deeply resented in Nigeria as a slur on the reputation of the Nigerian judiciary, Chief Enahoro w a s extradited and put on trial separately. In December, 1962, the Prime Minister announced that Chief Awolowo, w h o s e f o l l o w e r s in the H o u s e of Representatives had dwindled to twenty m e m b e r s , w o u l d n o l o n g e r b e r e c o g n i z e d o f f i c i a l l y as L e a d e r of t h e Opposition. W h e n the emergency administration ended on January 1, 1963, Chief Akintola was reinstated as Premier of the Western Region, heading a coalition of his recently formed United People's Party (based mainly on his faction of the Action Group) and the N C N C , whose parliamentary leader in the West, Chief R. A . F a n i - K a y o d e , b e c a m e D e p u t y Premier. Of the 8 2 assemblymen w h o had been members of the Action Group in May, only 38 r e m a i n e d loyal to the party under A l h a j i A d e g b e n r o , n o w L e a d e r of the Opposition. Eventually, in May, 1963, the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council, reversing the Nigerian Supreme Court, ruled that the ex-Governor had not e x c e e d e d his constitutional authority in r e m o v i n g Chief Akintola from his premiership during the crisis. The Western Regional legislature then enacted a constitutional amendment (which the Federal Parliament endorsed) with retroactive effect to provide that the Premier could not be removed without an adverse vote in the House of Assembly. Subsequently, appeals f r o m the Supreme Court of Nigeria to the Privy Council were abolished by constitutional amendment. ON TRIAL FOR TREASON T h e trial for treason of A w o l o w o and his c o d e f e n d a n t s took nearly eight months, f r o m November, 1962 to June, 1963. E n a h o r o ' s trial, which c o m menced in mid-May, 1963, took two and one-half months. Both cases were tried by a s i n g l e j u d g e of the H i g h C o u r t of L a g o s ; b o t h v e r d i c t s w e r e announced in September. In this limited discussion of the issues involved, it is convenient to consider the two cases together and to distinguish three elements of the prosecution's argument: (1) the disputed activities of a special committee of the Action Group, called the tactical committee; (2) the alleged recruitment of persons for paramilitary employment, their training abroad, and their deployment in Nigeria; (3) the alleged arms plot.

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The Tactical Committee In September, 1960, the Federal Executive Council of the Action Group decided to establish a tactical committee to cope with anticipated moves by the federal government which might menace the Action Group's base of power in the Western Region. It was agreed that Awolowo would be solely responsible for this committee's membership, which would be known only by the members themselves. Awolowo testified that he appointed three other persons to the committee, namely, Chief Enahoro, who was a federal vicepresident of the party and chairman of its "regional" organization in the Midwest, Chief Ayotunde Rosiji, the party's federal secretary, and Chief Akintola, the Deputy Leader of the party and Premier of the Western Region. Awolowo further claimed to have outlined certain tasks for the committee at its first meeting, which were as follows: (1) to ensure that the party's field organization in the Western Region was maintained in a state of constant preparedness to deal with any attempt by the NCNC to provoke acts of lawlessness which might, in turn, serve as a pretext for federal intervention; (2) to conduct publicity in Nigeria and abroad so as to discredit any attempt by the federal government to seize control of the Western Regional government by other than electoral means; (3) to make overtures to the NCNC with a view toward cooperation on a nation-wide basis in order to enhance both the security of the Action Group in the Western Region and the likelihood of success by "progressive" elements in the next federal election; and (4) to intensify organizational efforts in the Northern and Eastern Regions so as to extend the Action Group's base of popular support and, at the same time, to relieve the pressure on it in Western Nigeria. Chief Awolowo testified that meetings of the tactical committee were held irregularly, but he did not feel able to say under oath that all four members were always present. In March, 1962, some weeks after the meeting of party elders at which Awolowo had alleged that Akintola had been whispering it about that he (Awolowo) was planning a coup d'état, Awolowo had asked the Federal Executive Council to dissolve the tactical committee on the ground that its purposes had been misrepresented by Akintola with the result that members of the party appeared to have lost confidence in it. The committee was then dissolved by a vote of the executive council. The chief prosecution witness with respect to the activities of the tactical committee was Sanya D. Onabamiro, a professor of zoology in the Western Regional University of Ife, who had been Minister of Education in the Akintola government. Onabamiro had been a reluctant signatory to the petition of May 21, 1962, by the Action Group Western Parliamentary Council, calling upon the Regional Governor to depose Premier Akintola. He decided to sign it, he explained, only because Akintola had been persuaded to apologize to the party at the fateful meeting of May 19. Acting upon an instruction from Chief Awolowo, Onabamiro had placed the name of Adegbenro in nomination to succeed Akintola as the western parliamentary leader. Subsequently,

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h o w e v e r , he r e s i g n e d f r o m t h e A c t i o n G r o u p to j o i n A k i n t o l a ' s U n i t e d P e o p l e ' s Party. H e testified against A w o l o w o in D e c e m b e r . On J a n u a r y 1, 1963, he w a s appointed Minister of Natural Resources and Agriculture upon the reinstatement of Akintola as Premier. O n a b a m i r o agreed that there had been four m e m b e r s of the tactical c o m mittee, but he testified that in addition to A w o l o w o and E n a h o r o the t w o other m e m b e r s w e r e Ikoku and himself, rather than Akintola and Rosiji. H e said that he only attended two m e e t i n g s of the committee. At the first m e e t i n g in February or M a r c h , 1961, he told the court, A w o l o w o had said that the Action G r o u p could never c o m e to p o w e r through the ballot b o x b e c a u s e elections in the North w o u l d never b e free and fair. In preparation for a coup d'état, A w o l o w o w a s alleged to have given each one of the other three m e m bers of the c o m m i t t e e a special assignment. Ikoku w a s to reconnoiter military i n s t a l l a t i o n s in N i g e r i a a n d m a k e p l a n s f o r their s e i z u r e or d e m o l i t i o n ; E n a h o r o w a s to recruit about two hundred youths f r o m Action G r o u p s y m p a thizers for training in Ghana and elsewhere; and O n a b a m i r o w a s to enlist the cooperation of a f e w senior officers in the Nigerian police force. O n a b a m i r o said that he w a s " a s t o u n d e d by Chief A w o l o w o ' s revelation of the w o r k i n g of his inner mind and perplexed by the assignment given me. I decided to g o h o m e and think." A f t e r much thought and s o m e reading on the subject of revolution, he c o n c l u d e d that irrespective of moral or political considerations, the p r o j e c t w a s i l l - c o n c e i v e d and c o u l d not s u c c e e d . H e d e c i d e d that he would not carry out his assignment and would seek instead to withdraw f r o m the committee. M o n t h s later, he testified, in October or N o v e m b e r of 1961, O n a b a m i r o blundered into another meeting of the committee to which he had not been invited, owing to his failure to report on the progress of his assignment. On the spur of the m o m e n t he told the other m e m b e r s that he had been waiting for just such an opportunity to say that the plan w a s not feasible. A w o l o w o had spoken to them of a "bloodless" coup d'état. But, he said, that would require something that A w o l o w o l a c k e d — t h e decisive support of the a r m y — a n d he cited the cases of Nasser in Egypt, A b b o u d in S u d a n , and Kassim in Iraq. A w o l o w o ' s plan actually implied guerrilla warfare, which might take years. In the conduct of guerrilla warfare, he told them, there were four prerequisites to success: guerrillas need hide-outs to which they can retreat; the leader of such an insurrection m u s t have fanatical f o l l o w e r s w h o would rather h a n g than betray his cause; the incumbent g o v e r n m e n t must be unpopular; and the guerrilla forces must not b e dependent upon an external source of arms. In support of his thesis, he cited the e x a m p l e s of Castro in Cuba, Grivas in Cyprus, and the J e w s in Palestine. These conditions, he said, did not obtain in Nigeria; he told A w o l o w o that the government of Nigeria w a s popular and that n o y o u n g man w o u l d agree to h a n g so that A w o l o w o might b e c o m e P r i m e Minister. W h e n A w o l o w o asked about the sources of his ideas, O n a b a m i r o obtained permission to fetch a book f r o m his house and returned to the meeting with a

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thin volume by S. E. Ayling entitied Twelve Portraits of Power. Awolowo asked to borrow the book and suggested that Onabamiro be given leave to withdraw from the committee. Onabamiro offered to swear an oath of secrecy, but, he said, Enahoro told him simply that the committee would know if he betrayed his trust. As noted above, the committee was dissolved formally in March, 1962. When, however, in September, 1962, an arms plot was uncovered in Lagos, Onabamiro inferred that the tactical committee had not actually ceased to exist. In view of his previous involvement with the committee and since Awolowo had not returned his copy of Twelve Portraits of Power (and another book on the Cyprus rebellion), he decided that he should make a statement to the police. The police then recovered Twelve Portraits of Power in Awolowo's voluminous personal library. Awolowo replied simply by asserting that Onabamiro's story was a fabrication. A tactical committee set up to ensure the political security of the Western Region must, he said, of necessity have included the Premier. He mentioned two occasions on which Akintola supplied vital information to the Action Group. First, in December, 1961, Akintola reported that the advisability of introducing a preventive detention act in Parliament had been discussed at a meeting consisting of only the Prime Minister and the three regional premiers. The tactical committee referred Akintola's report to a larger ad hoc committee of party leaders, but its substance was not divulged to the public until Chief Awolowo did so himself in June, 1962, after he had been restricted. Secondly, as Premier, Chief Akintola was entitled to receive police intelligence reports. In February, 1962, on the eve of the Jos congress, Akintola had produced a Special Branch report stating that leaders of the NCNC, in preparation for the forthcoming plebiscite in the Midwest on the creation of a separate state, had decided to send "about 2,000 thugs" into the area, with instructions to disrupt Action Group activities by violent means, including political assassination. This document was tendered in court and it became part of the trial record. It might have suggested an alternative purpose for the type of training the prosecution alleged was received by various persons in preparation for a coup d'état. Chief Awolowo's attempt to negotiate an alliance between his party and the NCNC had not resulted, in fact, in an abatement of political tensions in the Midwest region, where partisan conflict of an extremely bitter and frequently violent sort persisted. Apart from the two defendants and the one prosecution witness who admitted membership in the tactical committee, no other witness could testify with any degree of certainty about its membership or activity. Both sides agreed that its membership, consisting of four persons, was secret. Ikoku, alleged by O n a b a m i r o to have been a member, was in Ghana; neither Akintola nor Rosiji, alleged by the defendants to have been members, was called to testify. One witness testified that Onabamiro had asked him if he knew the identity of the members, but Onabamiro said that he had done so merely to demonstrate that neither that witness nor his sources of information

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were fully informed about the inner workings of the party. Other witnesses testified that on two occasions Awolowo had spoken of a possible resort to violence. One was in mid-1961 after the Northern Regional election, which the Action Group held to have been unfairly conducted; the other occasion was in February, 1962, during his crucial confrontation with Akintola, when Awolowo was alleged to have said in the presence of twelve party leaders that he had enough trained men to shake the federal government to its foundations if it overplayed its hand in the Western Region. Other witnesses rebutted these allegations, which do not, in themselves, prove anything conclusively about the tactical committee. The Paramilitary

Corps

The prosecution also alleged that at various times members of the Action Group went to Ghana for special training in the use of arms and explosives. Ten persons were alleged to have traveled to Ghana for this purpose in December, 1961—vainly so, however, since training facilities had not been adequately prepared. Six of these persons and three others were alleged to have gone to Ghana in June, 1962, for intensive paramilitary training. Another group, probably ten to fifteen in all, went in September, 1962. Eight men, all prosecution witnesses, confessed in court to having participated in this training, and nearly all of the others who were alleged to have been involved were shown to have traveled from Nigeria to Ghana at the material times. Some of them gave alibis, such as business reasons or attendance at various international conferences. In his own defense, Chief Enahoro suggested that two crucial witnesses for the prosecution had been sent to Ghana purely for training in party organization. One of these, upon his return, told Enahoro that his training in Ghana included the use of firearms. Enahoro said that while he was surprised to hear about such training, he never supposed it to be for any purpose other than party defense. The other witness testified that the scheme of illegal action called for the training of one thousand recruits in the use of firearms. Most of them, he said, had in fact been trained in a bush area about twenty miles from Lagos, but he could only remember one name and no witness was produced by the prosecution to corroborate this testimony. Both witnesses testified that in July and/or August, 1962, they, along with eight other persons including seven of the d e f e n d a n t s , were given specific a s s i g n m e n t s to p r e p a r e to destroy military and police installations and to seize control of the Lagos airport and electric powerhouse. Other witnesses gave evidence of subsequent acts by these persons which appeared to be related to their alleged assignments, e.g., one of the accused persons, a member of Parliament, gained admission to the airport control tower on the grounds that he wanted to learn from members of the staff whether they had any complaints that should be aired in Parliament.

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The Arms Plot On September 19, 1962, Chief Enahoro, M.P. (second vice-president of the Action Group and chairman of its Midwestern organization) eluded policemen at an immigration checkpoint leading to Dahomey and slipped across the border to make his way, eventually, to Accra, Ghana. From there he proceeded to London, and we have previously noted the celebrated case of his subsequent extradition to Nigeria. When Enahoro made his escape from Nigeria, he left behind a b r i e f c a s e which contained a sheet of airline notepaper, alleged by the prosecution to outline various tasks to be performed in connection with the intended coup. Enahoro testified that these notes were written in Rome on August 21, 1962, to record his discussion of the previous day with another person, a discussion that he had decided to report to Chief Awolowo at their next meeting. The individual concerned was Oladipo Maja, a Lagos medical practitioner and son of Akinola Maja, president of the Society of the Descendants of Oduduwa, and an owner-director of the National Investment and Properties Company Limited. Oladipo Maja was arrested in the Awolowo case but the charges against him were dropped when he turned state's evidence. He testified that in 1961, acting on his own initiative, he had offered money and arms to three important leaders of the Northern Regional wing of the Action Group, one of whom, J. S. Tarka (an M.P. and leader of a separate state movement in the southerly portion of the Northern Region called the Middle Belt), was a defendant in Awolowo's case, while the other two gave evidence for the prosecution. T h e latter two, Alhaji Ibrahim Imam (first vice-president of the A c t i o n G r o u p and L e a d e r of the O p p o s i t i o n in the N o r t h e r n H o u s e of Assembly) and Patrick Dokotri (another leader in the Middle Belt state movement), testified that Maja wanted them to precipitate a disturbance in the North in order to divert the army, while a group of insurgents with which he was associated would take over the government in Lagos. Dokotri reported the younger Maja's proposals to Awolowo, who in turn asked the elder Maja to restrain his son from embarking on wild schemes that were bound to reflect adversely on the Action Group, if only because of his name. Father and son, however, were not on speaking terms. Awolowo claimed to have personally admonished the younger Maja on three occasions in 1961 to desist from his attempts to suborn the Northern leaders of the Action Group, who had taken money but not arms from him. Ibrahim Imam testified that in mid1961 Awolowo had warned him to steer clear of M a j a , since the Action Group had a similar plan and Maja was an unreliable person who might turn out to be a police spy. For his part, Maja claimed to have obtained £7,000 from Ghana government sources, some of which he gave to the Northern Action Group leaders. He said he had arranged in June, 1961, for Awolowo to meet with President Nkrumah in Ghana. Furthermore, he testified, on May 29, 1962, immediately

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after the declaration of the emergency in Western Nigeria, he had been summoned by A w o l o w o , w h o e x p r e s s e d the v i e w that other ethnic groups in Nigeria would never tolerate the kind of treatment that was being meted out to the Yoruba. On the following day, he said, Awolowo had sent him £2,000 for the p u r c h a s e of a r m s and ammunition in Ghana. He had turned over £ 1 , 1 0 0 to S . G. Ikoku, the party's fugitive federal secretary, in Ghana and had returned to Nigeria with £ 9 0 0 . He claimed to have spent most of that amount to purchase explosives in Nigeria. The trial j u d g e concluded that he probably used part of the amount, as he had used money previously obtained from Ghanaian sources, to meet personal expenses in connection with the construction of a "luxurious surgery" in L a g o s . A w o l o w o denied h a v i n g relied upon M a j a to establish contact with Nkrumah, whom he had known since 1945. He also denied having spoken with Maja at the time of his restriction in May, 1962. He did say, however, that he had sent for M a j a in September, 1962, to inquire about a sum of £2,300, which had been given to him for transmission to Ikoku. An explanation for M a j a ' s role as an Action Group courier w a s provided by one of the a c c u s e d p e r s o n s , V. O. Onabanjo, the editor of the party's national daily n e w s p a p e r p u b l i s h e d by the A m a l g a m a t e d Press L i m i t e d . Onabanjo explained that on May 30—after restriction orders had been served on Awolowo, Enahoro, and others—party leaders, including Awolowo, decided to send £ 2 , 5 0 0 to the federal secretary, Ikoku, who had slipped out of the country the previous evening in order to project the Action Group i m a g e from Ghana. Awolowo had written a check on the Action Group Trust Fund (countersigned by the officer in charge of party finance) for £2,500 payable to the Amalgamated Press. He had instructed Onabanjo to deduct £ 2 0 0 for local expenses and to send the balance to Ikoku. Onabanjo, however, had been informed of certain difficulties by his chief accountant at the press. While the Amalgamated Press had a branch office in Accra, it had been unable to open a current account there, so that Ikoku could not be paid by a check drawn on a bank in Ghana. A telegraphic transfer of the money, he said, involved other complications and would take a few days to accomplish. Feeling the need for haste in a situation of many uncertainties, Onabanjo had turned for help to his old acquaintance Maja, knowing that Maja frequently traveled to Ghana for business purposes. He cashed the check and g a v e £2,300 to Maja, who w a s , fortuitously, about to g o to Ghana. Twelve days later, Awolowo received a letter from Ikoku that did not indicate one way or the other whether the money had been received. Maja therefore testified as a confessed accomplice, and there is no doubt about his intention to commit a violation of the law. The question is whether or not he acted i n d e p e n d e n t l y , or a s an agent of C h i e f A w o l o w o . B o t h Awolowo and Enahoro claimed to have been apprehensive that the Action Group would willy-nilly be implicated by M a j a ' s activities. The incriminating notepaper recovered by the police from Enahoro's abandoned briefcase

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now becomes relevant. Enahoro explained that prior to his departure from Lagos for London via Rome (where he was to meet Ikoku) on August 20, Maja had come to see him to solicit his cooperation in his (Maja's) plan for a coup d'état. Maja, Enahoro said, told him that Ibrahim Imam and Dokotri, who were prepared to cooperate, were anxious to recruit Enahoro. In court Enahoro claimed to have warned Maja on the spot that his plan was not feasible, that it might endanger the Action Group, and that he would have to report their conversation to Awolowo. For that purpose, he said, he made notes of his recollection of Maja's plan when he arrived in Rome. There he received a telegraphic message from Accra that Ikoku could not travel on account of illness. So Enahoro flew to Accra on August 23. The prosecution asserted, and Enahoro denied, that en route to Accra he stopped briefly in Lagos. Although this assertion could not be verified by any entry in Enahoro's passport, an immigration official testified that at the time in question the passports of Nigerian citizens were not being stamped either upon their arrival or departure. Ibrahim Imam testified for the prosecution that on August 23, the day of Enahoro's arrival in Accra, the two of them (first and second vice-president of the Action Group, respectively) had met briefly in Lagos. According to Imam, Enahoro told him that the Action Group had decided to team up with certain elements in the country then preparing to launch a coup, since the party would be nowhere if the coup succeeded without its participation and could hardly escape blame by implication if it failed. Furthermore, he testified, Enahoro said that the coup would be bloodless and entirely successful since it would be supported by the army. Imam said that Enahoro wanted him to provide some sort of "cover" for twenty trained men who would be sent to the North in preparation for the coup. He claimed to have told Enahoro that the plan was ill-conceived and could not work. Enahoro testified that this alleged meeting never took place. His own version was to the effect that he met Imam upon his return to Lagos from London on September 18, the day that reports of an arms plot first appeared in the Lagos press. Enahoro claims to have expressed his shock to Imam concerning the latter's association with Maja, saying that his involvement in Maja's scheme was bound to hurt the Action Group. His resort to such a desperate plan was doubly deplorable in view of Action Group negotiations with the N C N C that would soon alter the political situation in the country. On the following day, said Enahoro, he reported his discussion of August 20 with Maja to Chief Awolowo, who told him that he had known about Maja's activities for some time, had given stern warnings to all concerned, and did not want to hear any more details from Enahoro at that moment since he had been through it all before. The prosecution observed that Awolowo, at his own trial, had not given evidence about Enahoro's report of his discussion with Maja, nor had he crossexamined Maja about Enahoro's report. Therefore, asserted the prosecution,

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Awolowo, who appeared as a defense witness in Enahoro's case, warned the latter not to say that he had reported any details of his conversation with Maja. Enahoro wanted the court to believe that he waited a month (from August 20 to September 19) before reporting Maja's scheme to Awolowo; that Awolowo did not want to hear any details; that he (Enahoro) did not inquire if Awolowo had information of Maja's most recent activity in addition to that in the past. The counsel for the prosecution observed wryly that Enahoro had complained of gastric trouble and requested an adjournment of the court, which was granted soon after the commencement of his testimony about this incident. Moreover, the prosecution drew attention to marginal jottings on the airline notepaper written with a different ink than had been used to write the original notes. These jottings were alleged to have been made in Ghana. For example, next to item one, which reads "Training camp flooded," is the jotting in different ink, "emergency site in one week." Enahoro said that all of these jottings were made in Rome but he could not recall the significance of some of them. In Awolowo's case, Ibrahim Imam testified that on September 1, he and Tarka went to see Awolowo, who told them that certain people were urging him to give his blessing to a coup d'état, but he would not do so unless he could count on their support. Imam claimed to have told Tarka that he, personally, would not take part in a coup. Patrick Dokotri testified that on September 4 Awolowo had spoken to him and Tarka about an impending coup that would be both bloodless and 100 per cent successful. Both Dokotri and Imam testified that subsequently, on about September 10, Awolowo summoned them and Tarka to his residence to accuse both Dokotri and Imam of disloyalty. Awolowo denied this, alleging that the two witnesses had been suborned to save their own skins and that Imam, in particular, had conspired with Maja to import arms in connection with Maja's own plot. A r m s and a m m u n i t i o n were discovered in L a g o s by the police on September 15. Arrests were m a d e and another search was conducted in Awolowo's home at Ikenne, where it was alleged that the arms had been shared among the conspirators. Two gas pistol bullets and some charred particles, alleged to have been the burnt remains of materials in which the contraband had been wrapped, were discovered there. More arms were found in another town and large quantities of explosives were discovered in two other places. Forty-eight special (Mares) torchlights, alleged by the prosecution to have been purchased by Enahoro in Rome for use during the coup and said by Enahoro to have been purchased for the use of Action Group defense units in the Midwest, were also discovered. A year later in September, 1963, Enahoro was convicted in the High Court of Lagos and sentenced to fifteen years imprisonment. A f e w days later, a verdict of guilty was also returned by the judge in Awolowo's case. Awolowo was sentenced to ten years imprisonment and seventeen of his codefendants were sentenced to prison terms varying from two to seven

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years, while three were acquitted. The convictions were appealed to the Supreme Court of Nigeria. On July 1, 1964, the sentences of Awolowo and nine of his coappellants were confirmed by the Chief Justice and four of his colleagues. The Chief Justice of Eastern Nigeria, acting as a Justice of the Supreme Court in this case, held that Onabamiro's evidence about the tactical committee was dubious per se, uncorroborated save by accomplices, and inadequate, therefore, to sustain a conviction. He based his concurring opinion on that portion of the evidence which related to the importation and unlawful possession of arms, ammunition and explosives. In May, 1965, the Supreme Court also sustained Enahoro's conviction but reduced his sentence to seven years. THE PARTY SYSTEM IN TRANSITION

For a decade, from 1952 to 1962, government in Nigeria rested upon a tripartite balance of power. The overthrow of Action Group rule in the Western Region and its replacement by a coalition beholden to the federal government was bound to affect the stability of the Federation as a whole. How the fall of the Action Group set the stage for a major national crisis is the subject of this section. During the first session of the Independence Parliament in November 1960, the federal Attorney General, an NCNC nominee, stated in response to a query that the constitution did empower the federal government to dissolve a regional legislature and appoint a caretaker government. Moreover, he declared, the federal government could not permit a state of disorder to prevail in any part of the Federation. In rebuttal, Chief Awolowo (Leader of the Opposition) said that no such power had been granted by the Constitution (Section 65), nor was it even implied. This debate might have seemed to confirm the fear that Awolowo had expressed in September, when he asked his party's Federal Executive Council to authorize the formation of a secret "tactical committee." Despite Awolowo's growing cordiality with the likeminded leaders of the NCNC in consequence of his continuing efforts to build a "progressive" alliance in opposition to the NPC, he could not depend upon the NCNC, as a party, to support him in a crisis in which his own political future and that of the Action Group might be at stake. For one thing, his party was bitterly opposed by many NCNC leaders in the Western Region who thirsted for power after ten lean years of opposition. In the Midwest, an N C N C stronghold, hostility to the Action Group mounted daily as the campaign for creation of a separate region neared its conclusion. Surely, if the Action Group could be crushed, there were many old line NCNC members in various parts of the Federation who would not scruple to settle old scores. For them, the crisis of 1962 presented too strong a temptation to resist, however well aware they may have been that the overthrow of the Action Group in Western Nigeria would not be an unmixed blessing.

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On the eve of the Western crisis, a few top N C N C leaders affirmed on principle that in cases of conflict between party leadership and parliamentary leadership, party leadership must prevail, a principle that had been vindicated in the N C N C ten years earlier. On May 22, M. I. Okpara, national president of the N C N C and Premier o f Eastern N i g e r i a , s u g g e s t e d that Premier Akintola should resign honorably rather than flout the authority of his party. Three days later, however, after the fracas in the Western House of Assembly which had been precipitated by Akintola's stout minority of ten, Premier Okpara observed that law and order had broken down in the Western Region and called upon the federal government to assume control. On May 28, a joint meeting of the N C N C ' s National Executive Committee and Federal Parliamentary Party voted to back the federal government fully. The following day, all members of the N C N C parliamentary delegation voted in favor of a declaration of public emergency in Western Nigeria. When the emergency period ended on January 1, 1963, the Western N C N C entered a coalition government under the reinstated Premier, Chief Akintola, now leader of the United People's Party. Nonetheless, radical elements within the N C N C had been won over to A w o l o w o ' s idea of a "progressive" alliance. During the Western emergency a few prominent members of the N C N C had pressed for unity with the Action Group and the N C N C even extended some financial assistance to help the Action Group meet its political expenses. Thereafter, various developments strengthened the hand of the N C N C faction that favored a fundamental realignment of the parties. In October, 1962, the Action Group demonstrated its vitality in Yorubaland by w i n n i n g d e c i s i v e control of the Lagos City Council in a straight fight with the NCNC. This was widely interpreted to signify Yoruba solidarity with the beleaguered A w o l o w o . In token of its desire to collaborate with the N C N C , the Action Group offered to retain the N C N C national secretary in his office as chairman of the Lagos City Council. While this offer was appreciatively declined, the N C N C accepted a generous allocation of committee assignments, including chairmanships. In July, 1963, Midwestern Nigeria took the decisive constitutional step in its evolution as a separate region when an overwhelming majority of its electorate voted in a plebiscite in favor of regionhood. This action eliminated an old bone of contention between the Action Group and the NCNC, especially in v i e w of the fact that many of the old line Action Group leaders in the Midwest declared for Akintola's United People's Party, then in coalition with the Western wing of the NCNC. With the Action Group unable and unwilling to provide serious competition to the N C N C in the new region, anti-NCNC elements there were receptive to offers of support from the NPC. In October, 1963, a candidate o f the NPC-supported Midwestern P e o p l e ' s C o n g r e s s defeated his N C N C opponent in a by-election for a vacant parliamentary seat. Immediately thereafter, the Midwestern People's Congress merged with the Midwestern branch of the United People's Party and other anti-NCNC groups

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to form a new party, the Midwestern Democratic Front, which allied with the NPC. In February, 1964, elections were held for the new Midwestern House of Assembly. The N C N C won 53 seats to 11 for the MDF; the Action Group, having all but disappeared from the Midwest, polled less than 2 percent of the vote and did not win a single seat. Henceforth, certain Midwestern N C N C leaders remained implacably hostile to the Action Group on principle (or for reasons of a personal or overall political nature) rather than in consequence of electoral necessity. In Western Nigeria, representatives of various shades of Yoruba opinion were deeply disturbed by the predicament of their leaders and concerned to explore the possibilities of reconciliation. Inconclusive negotiations involving the three major factions—Action Group, UPP, and NCNC—were reported in July, 1963. Subsequently, influential Yoruba personalities who were sympathetic to Chief Akintola formed a cultural organization, called the Society of the Descendants of the Yoruba. Early in 1964 this society merged with a conciliatory wing of the Society of the Descendants of Oduduwa to form the Society of the Descendants of Olofin (said by its sponsors to be the proper name of the legendary ancestor of the Yoruba, O d u d u w a ) . A m o n g the f o u n d e r s of the new o r g a n i z a t i o n were S e n a t o r M a j e k o d u n m i , Federal Minister of Health, former Administrator of the West and president of the Society of the Descendants of the Yoruba; Akinola Maja, president of the Society of the Descendants of Oduduwa; Sir Adetokunboh Ademola, the Chief Justice of Nigeria; several other eminent jurists; Premier Akintola; Sir Adesoji Aderemi II, the former Regional Governor; his successor, Chief J. O. Fadahunsi; and most of the leading obas of Yorubaland. However, the Action Group and Action Group-inclined Oduduwans denounced the new organization as a partisan maneuver and criticized the participation of members of the judiciary on that ground. Meanwhile, a serious conflict erupted between the N P C and the N C N C over the results of the decennial census. Population statistics are politically crucial in Nigeria because the constitution provides for apportionment (and reapportionment) of parliamentary seats among the regions according to the principle of proportionality of population. (Universal adult suffrage obtains in southern Nigeria. In the Northern Region, however, the franchise is restricted to adult males in accordance with an N P C interpretation of Islamic custom, but w o m e n are included for the p u r p o s e of d e l i m i t i n g c o n s t i t u e n c i e s . ) Unofficial reports of a census conducted in 1962 indicated a redistribution of population in favor of the southern regions. But this count was rejected as b e i n g unreliable by a m e e t i n g of the P r i m e Minister and the Regional Premiers, who decided upon a recount in 1963. In February, 1964, the federal government released preliminary statistics: 55.7 million people were enumerated, distributed thus: Northern Nigeria 29.7 million; Eastern Nigeria 12.3 million; Western Nigeria 10.2 million; Midwestern Nigeria 2.5 million; the Federal Territory of Lagos 675,000. The NCNC-controlled governments of

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the Eastern and Midwestern Regions immediately challenged the accuracy of these figures, which preserved the Northern Region's population edge over the rest of the country. The Northern and Western Regional governments accepted them. At this juncture, all but two of the eleven N C N C Western Regional ministers bolted their party and rallied to Premier Akintola's standard in the formation of a new regional party, named the Nigerian National Democratic Party, to which their supporters in Lagos adhered. Thereupon, NCNC loyalists in the Western Region formed an alliance with the Action Group, which still appeared to be the most popular party in the Region, despite the decline of its contingent in the House of Assembly to a hard core of 27 (out of 90). Previously, opposition parties in Northern Nigeria, principally the Nigerian (formerly Northern) Elements Progressive Union (an ally of the NCNC) and the United Middle Belt Congress (formally an ally of the Action Group), had combined to form a Northern Progressive Front. Only die-hard opponents of the Action Group, mainly in the Midwestern Region, still held out against the formation of a nation-wide "progressive" alliance. As a result of the disputed census (challenged unsuccessfully in the Supreme Court by the Eastern Regional government), the North was allotted 167 parliamentary seats (a reduction of 7) out of a total of 312; the East was allotted 70 (a reduction of 3); the West received 57 (an increase of 10); the Midwest 14 (a reduction of 1); and Lagos 4 (an increase of 1). In August, 1964, the NPC, in alliance with the NNDP, the MDF, and the separatist Niger Delta C o n g r e s s of Eastern Nigeria, inaugurated the N i g e r i a n National Alliance, to which other small parties in the Eastern Region, notably the Dynamic Party (a self-described "totalitarian" party of social protest) and the new Republican Party (a dissident Ibo group) also adhered. In accordance with the terms of the alliance, Sir Abubakar invited two N N D P members of Parliament (including Chief Rosiji) to join the federal cabinet. Soon thereafter the N C N C - A c t i o n G r o u p - N o r t h e r n Progressive Front Alliance was launched formally as the United Progressive Grand Alliance. Now, the stage was set for a two-party battle on election day. 2 The ensuing campaign was marked by propaganda of a bitterly tribalistic sort, emanating largely from the NNDP. The positive side of that party's raison d'être is Yoruba unity. Its negative corollary is the allegation that the NCNC and, perforce, the UPGA are Ibo-dominated organizations which necessarily and perniciously serve Ibo interests at the expense of other ethnic groups. Thus an N N D P publication alleged that the federal government was dominated by an "Ibocracy"—a network which secured for Ibos a disproportionate share of jobs, commercial opportunities, federal scholarships, etc. In Northern Nigeria, too, Ibophobic tendencies were strengthened by the new political alignment. To begin with, acrimony between the large, cohesive, and prosperous communities of Ibo settlers in the Northern towns and the indigenous townsmen is an old source of social tension, to which religious disparity between the Muslim northerner and non-Muslim southerner

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often contributes. In the charged atmosphere of heated political controversy, defamatory propaganda and threats both to the property of Ibo settlers and the means whereby they earn their livelihood were not uncommon. Under these circumstances, many Ibo householders in the Northern towns decided to send their families "home" for safety to the Eastern Region. As the election drew near, reports of political thuggery in all parts of the Federal Republic became increasingly common. In late October, the major Party leaders met to issue an appeal for a free and peaceful election campaign; they also agreed to integrate the various local government police forces with the Nigeria police force, under the control of the inspector general of police, for the duration of the campaign. This notwithstanding, frequent complaints of mass arrest, malicious prosecution, and harassment (including maltreatment of lawyers) were voiced by partisans, mainly UPGA spokesmen in the Northern Region. On December 10, the President of the Republic, Nnamdi Azikiwe, broadcast a dramatic warning of the threat to national unity which had been engendered by "calculated" violations of the constitutional rights of citizens in connection with the election campaign. If, he said, the politicians have decided to dismember the Federal Republic, they should summon a conference to divide the "national assets" peaceably; otherwise he predicted, Nigeria might s u f f e r a t r a g e d y of s u c h p r o p o r t i o n that the recent e x p e r i e n c e of the Democratic Republic of the Congo would be "child's play" by comparison. His tabulation of specified kinds of infringement of constitutional rights seemed to reflect on the Northern Region mainly. Sir Ahmadu Bello, Premier of the North, replied immediately, observing that secessionist utterances with regard to the Eastern Region had been made by members of the NCNC; he warned that the Nigerian constitution makes no provision for secession or disintegration. Before the election, U P G A leaders calculated that they would have to win some 20 to 30 seats out of 167 in Northern Nigeria in order to win an overall majority of the 312 parliamentary seats at stake. Their hopes were shattered when 68 NPC candidates were returned unopposed when nominations closed on December 20. A few days later, however, the chairman of the Federal Electoral Commission announced that some candidates appeared to have been returned unopposed improperly and that elections would be ordered in such cases. U P G A now demanded a postponement of the election; in the absence of clarification on the disputed "unopposed" returns, UPGA, professing to despair of a free and fair election, decided upon a boycott. President Azikiwe now urged the Prime Minister to postpone the election for six months (suggesting also that the United Nations be asked to assist in its conduct). Sir Abubakar rejected the idea of postponement and the election was held on December 30 in the face of an U P G A boycott that was supported by the resignations of three members of the Federal Electoral Commission, representing the Eastern and Western Regions and the Federal Territory of Lagos. In accordance with the instruction of Okpara, no voting took place in the seventy Eastern constituencies, although N C N C candidates were returned

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unopposed in nineteen o f them, w h i c h w e r e in any case safe f o r that party. In the M i d w e s t e r n R e g i o n , leaders o f the N C N C disagreed and vacillated w i t h the result that v o t i n g there w a s light as the N C N C w o n all 14 seats. In the Western R e g i o n , N N D P candidates w e r e declared elected in 36 constituencies to U P G A ' s 18 ( 1 3 A c t i o n G r o u p and 5 N C N C ) . In the F e d e r a l Territory o f L a g o s , an i n d e p e n d e n t c a n d i d a t e w h o r e c e i v e d less than 6 0 0 v o t e s w a s declared e l e c t e d in the o n e constituency (out o f f o u r ) w h e r e any v o t i n g t o o k place. T h e N o r t h e r n R e g i o n , true to f o r m , g a v e the N P C 162 out o f 167 seats, b o o s t i n g the N N A total to the c o m f o r t a b l e f i g u r e o f 198. A l l told, only 4 m i l lion v o t e r s w e n t to the p o l l s , c o m p a r e d w i t h m o r e than 7 m i l l i o n in 1959. T h e percentage o f the e l i g i b l e electorate actually v o t i n g d r o p p e d f r o m nearly 8 0 percent in 1959 to s o m e t h i n g on the order o f 2 0 percent in 1964. It has b e e n reported that o v e r 2 0 m i l l i o n p e o p l e w e r e e l i g i b l e to v o t e , c o m p a r e d w i t h s o m e 9 m i l l i o n in 1959. (It should b e noted, h o w e v e r , that the o f f i c i a l registers o f electors w e r e c o m p i l e d f r o m the controversial census reports.) It w a s a l l e g e d that v o t i n g p e r c e n t a g e s in L a g o s , the West, and the M i d w e s t w o u l d h a v e b e e n a p p r e c i a b l y h i g h e r but f o r the i n t i m i d a t o r y acts ( i n c l u d i n g the destruction o f p o l l i n g b o o t h s ) o f irregular U P G A bands s e e k i n g to e n f o r c e the b o y c o t t . O n the other hand, certain returns in the Western R e g i o n w e r e a l l e g e d to h a v e b e e n f l a g r a n t l y inflated. O f f i c i a l statistics indicated a turnout o f s o m e 23 percent in the W e s t e r n R e g i o n . For six days the unity o f the nation appeared to hang in the balance w h i l e i n t e n s i v e n e g o t i a t i o n s w e r e c o n d u c t e d i n v o l v i n g the P r e s i d e n t , the P r i m e Minister, leaders o f the regional g o v e r n m e n t s , and other influential personalities. B o t h the President and the P r i m e Minister appear to have consulted leaders o f the armed f o r c e s . O n N e w Y e a r ' s D a y , President A z i k i w e i n f o r m e d the P r i m e M i n i s t e r (and the n a t i o n ) that he w o u l d rather resign than p e r f o r m his mandatory constitutional duty to appoint a n e w Prime Minister as a result o f the election. But three days later, a settlement, based on a c o m p r o m i s e f o r m u la prepared by t w o senior m e m b e r s o f the N i g e r i a n judiciary, w a s announced. T h e President then invited Sir A b u b a k a r to f o r m a g o v e r n m e n t , declaring, " I have his permission to say that he intends to f o r m a broad-based national g o v e r n m e n t . " In his o w n statement, the P r i m e Minister c o n f i r m e d that he w o u l d f o r m " a b r o a d l y - b a s e d g o v e r n m e n t . " F o l l o w i n g consultations w i t h his party leader, Sir A h m a d u B e l l o , the P r e m i e r o f Northern N i g e r i a , in Kaduna, Sir A b u b a k a r submitted a list o f seventeen cabinet m e m b e r s f o r appointment by the President. N e a r l y all o f them w e r e northerners b e l o n g i n g to the N P C , but it w a s u n d e r s t o o d that a d d i t i o n a l m e m b e r s f r o m the Eastern and W e s t e r n R e g i o n s w o u l d be added after the early conduct o f elections in the b o y c o t t e d constituencies o f L a g o s and the Eastern R e g i o n . In the end, U P G A leaders salv a g e d a p r o m i s e o f e a r l y a r r a n g e m e n t s to r e v i e w the constitution and the machinery f o r elections. It w a s also understood that elections f o r the Western H o u s e o f A s s e m b l y , due in 1965, w o u l d not be postponed. O n the m a j o r issue, U P G A had to a c c e p t the v a l i d i t y o f the e l e c t i o n , s u b j e c t to the r e l a t i v e l y

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insignificant proviso that particular results could be challenged by aggrieved persons in the courts. Deeply disappointed, U P G A militants blamed President Azikiwe for his "capitulation." At best, they said, the c o m p r o m i s e w a s premature. But Nigeria had come to the brink of confusion if not disintegration. In his personal account of the crisis, w h i c h he entitled "State H o u s e D i a r y " and released to the press for publication in Lagos, President Azikiwe reported a preelection threat of secession by the Eastern Region. His account has been disputed, although respectfully and with restraint, by the Eastern Premier. In any case, it seems more probable that some sort of military action would have been the upshot of a prolonged failure to reach a compromise agreement. One week before the election, Okpara had proposed military supervision of the election to ensure its fairness. The compromise avoided a test of the army's reaction and cohesion in the event of political deadlock. Azikiwe's maneuver for a settlement tarnished his reputation in the UPGA camp, but it also spared Okpara and his associates the experience of having to choose between a showdown and a humiliating retreat. Okpara d e f e n d e d UPGA's boycott gamely as a stroke in the continuing fight for free elections in Nigeria. As the crisis fever subsided, it was apparent that fundamental issues remain unresolved. Nor could either side derive much satisfaction from the state of affairs. While the NNA had nominal control of the federal government, that government's authority and legitimacy were gravely impaired. In "defeat," UPGA was buoyed by a new sense of intergroup solidarity because the Easterners were not thought to have betrayed their partners in the West. UPGA leaders agreed to give the compromise "a fair trial," while numerous, mainly futile, petitions challenging the validity of the election results were made to the courts. In the "little election" of March, 1965, U P G A won 50 out of 52 seats at stake in Eastern Nigeria and all 3 in Lagos. The Prime Minister then enlarged his cabinet to include seven members of the N C N C and seven f r o m the NNDP in addition to fifteen NPC and three of no party status. Then the focal point of Nigerian politics shifted once more to the Western Region. In May, 1965, Sir Ahmadu Bello, Premier of the North and president of the NNA, said publicly that Chief Awolowo would be released from prison if the U P G A won the forthcoming general election to the Western House of Assembly. Of course, the NNDP was determined to retain power in the West. But its popularity was problematical. Perhaps the Northern Premier was anxious to avert an outright north-south showdown in the event of an irrepressible electoral surge for Awolowo's party. 3 CONCLUSION In Africa, as elsewhere in the "third world," anticolonial revolutions pave the way for social revolutions. The leader of an anticolonial movement w h o seeks also to effect a fundamental change in the structure of his society may

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expect to face severe trials of strength and conscience. Awolowo's ordeal may be interpreted in this light. In the 1950s Awolowo had been the principal political spokesman for an emergent and nationalistic class that came to power in Western Nigeria. His party, the Action Group, was, in fact, the political instrument of that class. H o w e v e r , t h e f o r t u n e s of p o l i t i c a l w a r f a r e m a d e h i m L e a d e r of t h e Opposition in Nigeria's Independence Parliament. In that capacity, congenial to his radical bent, he became the voice of social and political protest. His party then threatened to undermine the security of the regional power groups that control Nigeria's federal government. Inevitably, the more conservative members of his party, who formed the n u c l e u s of a p o w e r g r o u p in t h e W e s t e r n R e g i o n , w e r e a l i e n a t e d by Awolowo's increasingly radical posture of defiance to the moderate federal government. Many of them were deeply pained by their party's split and their estrangement from Awolowo. But they accepted the principle of regional security, which he rejected. In the main, therefore, they cast their lots with his rival, Premier Akintola, who promised to collaborate with the federal government and its virtual master, the power group of the Northern Region. Strategies of the Regional Power

Groups

While this study has not been concerned with the internal politics of the Northern, Eastern, and Midwestern Regions, it has considered the actions of each regional government party in relation to the Western Regional conflict. Two sets of observations concerning these parties may be recapitulated in summary form. The Northern People's Congress. The statements and actions of Northern leaders for over a decade confirm that they regard regional political security as a condition for the successful operation of federal government in Nigeria. While they have not tried to eliminate party competition per se in the Northern Region, they have been unalterably opposed to penetration of the north by political parties based in the south, that is, organized, led, and financed by southerners. This doctrine has worked effectively to eliminate opposition elements in the Northern Region from serious contention, at least for the time being. The obduracy of Northern resistance to "southern penetration" may be explained in terms of the Northern Region's delayed awakening to modern developments. In comparison with southern Nigeria, the educational level of the North is low and the region is deficient in highly trained professional and technical manpower. To be sure, the Northern leaders do not lack zeal for economic, social, and political development. Nonetheless, they aim to preserve their historic systems of traditional authority—in particular, the uniquely Northern system of Islamic emirate rule—as a counterpoise to the introduction of far-reaching political and legal reforms. In the south, Islam is a personal

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and family religion (there are few Muslims in the Eastern and Midwestern Regions, but some 50 percent of the Yoruba people are Muslims); in the north, Islam is a civilization—a system of authority and a fount of the law. In that circumstance, under conditions of political stress, religious precepts tend to clash with various democratic assumptions that are strongly held in the south. Cultural division, then, may pose a serious impediment to the operation of parliamentary democracy in Nigeria. At one time, Northerners feared the "threat" of "southern domination" after the withdrawal of British power. This fear was largely alleviated by the allocation of most of the seats in the federal House of Representatives to Northern members in accordance with the principle of population. Since 1962, the NPC contingent in Parliament has been sufficiently numerous for that party to control the federal government by virtue of its hold on a single region. In this anomalous situation, many southerners perceive a clear case for partition of the North, so that one unit of the federation will not dominate all of the rest of it. For their part, the Northerners disavow any desire to dominate southern Nigeria. Claiming to want nothing more than political security for their own institutions, they have encouraged the formation of regional political organizations in the south. Thus they have given consistent support to Premier Akintola—initially to his faction of the Action Group, subsequently to his United People's Party and its successor, the Nigerian National Democratic Party. But they have also indicated that they would treat any move to reconcile the antagonistic parties in Western Nigeria as a purely domestic question for the Yorubas in which they would not meddle. The National Convention of Nigerian Citizens,4 The NCNC, which controls the Eastern and Midwestern governments, shifted its support from Akintola to Awolowo after the latter's imprisonment and conviction, largely in consequence of its own conflict with the NPC. In so doing, the N C N C lost the major part of its Western Regional wing, which had been instrumental in the overthrow of the Action Group Regional government. When it came to a choice between loyalty to their party and loyalty to their regional power group, most of the western leaders of the N C N C opted for the power group. Shorn of its Western wing, the N C N C assumed the mantle of protector of the Action Group. A f t e r the election crisis, O k p a r a added a m e m b e r of the Action Group to his cabinet in the Eastern Region. What is more, it was widely believed that the N C N C was prepared to accept Awolowo as leader of the United Progressive Grand Alliance upon his release from prison. However, in Midwestern Nigeria a powerful faction of the N C N C has remained firmly opposed to its party's alliance with the Action Group and strongly in favor of collaboration with the Northern People's Congress. Since the principal ethnic tension in Midwestern politics is between the Ibo-speaking and non-Ibo-speaking (mainly Edo-speaking) groups, it is significant that

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opposition to the N C N C ' s Awolowan tendency is centered in the non-Ibo group. The N C N C is wary of the latent danger that non-Ibo elements may bolt the party in sufficient strength to jeopardize its control of the regional government. That danger would become more probable in the event of a showdown between the N C N C and the NPC. Therefore, the Midwestern wing of the N C N C has tried to conciliate disputes between the Eastern and Northern Regional governments. Strains on the Federal

System

Within the regions powerful forces operate to minimize if not to exclude party competition. T h e whole "machinery of government," including the power of patronage and control of local law enforcement and taxation, is brought to bear against organized opposition to the regional government party. As a result, by mid-1965, three of the four regions were, for practical (i.e., electoral) purposes, all but one-party states. In the fourth, the Western Region, two rival parties vied in deadly earnest to determine which one of them would bury the other. To the victor would belong not merely the spoils of office, but potentially permanent, i.e., indefinite, control over the most significant means of acquiring wealth and social prestige in the region. As a result of this one-party tendency in the regions, effective competition at the federal level means that at least one whole region, and maybe more than one, will appear to be in "opposition" to the federal government. This means that a whole "people" or nationality group may come to feel itself at odds with the regime, as the Yoruba people have tended to feel for several years and the Ibo people appeared to feel after the election crisis of 1 9 6 4 - 6 5 . Unallayed, regional disaffection may grow until it culminates in secession. One remedy, advocated by Akintola, Balewa, and the Sardauna, requires the participation of all regionally dominant parties in a national government. This solution, effected in 1965, is intended to stabilize the political status quo and has been widely deprecated on that account. An alterative remedy, advocated by Awolowo, Azikiwe, and Okpara, calls for the division of existing regions, especially the North, into smaller states. Many southerners favor this idea on the assumption that it would entail the dispersion of political power in Northern N i g e r i a . It is also s u p p o r t e d by radicals generally, i n c l u d i n g Northern radicals, w h o seek to break up all existing aggregations of regional power. This, as Awolowo saw with increasing clarity, is the key to revolutionary social change in Nigeria. The Constitution

and the Courts

Ruling out partition of the North, to which the NPC is so opposed at the present time, southern Nigerians count upon constitutional revision to both alleviate their grievances and safeguard the unity of the federation. One proposal to countervail Northern control of the House of Representatives would raise the federal Senate, which gives equality of regional representation, to the

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status of a coordinate legislative chamber. (Currently, the Senate has coordinate powers only for constitutional amendments and a few other specific legislative acts.) It has also been suggested that certain executive functions should be vested in the President of the Republic, who is now but a formal head of state, elected by a joint meeting of the Houses of Parliament. Specific recommendations of this nature have been made with respect to recruitment into the federal public service, administration of the decennial census, the conduct of elections, and employment of the armed forces and police for internal security purposes. Other proposals for reform within the present political framework envisage stricter constitutional protection for the fundamental rights of citizens. President Azikiwe, for one, has called for the elimination of provisos and exceptions that hedge the declaration of fundamental rights in Nigeria's constitution and render them legally ineffectual. Libertarians also place great store by the politically independent judiciary. For this reason, the participation of leading members of the judiciary in such quasi-political exploits as the formation of the Society of the Descendants of Olofin has given rise to concern in libertarian circles. It is, however, less than realistic to expect men of eminence on the bench in a developing country to remain politically chaste for the sake of their judicial reputations. They can hardly fail to heed the call to political colors. For example, both the Chief Justice of Nigeria and his colleague, the Chief Justice of the Eastern Region, were instrumental in settling the election crisis of 1964-65. Nigerian judges, like American judges, are in politics; inevitably, the courts are used to achieve political ends. Whether or not such ends will be compatible with libertarian means may well turn upon the viability of the constitution. The question, simply, is this: Will the government be so organized as to give the powerful forces of change their way? 5

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NOTES 1. John P. Mackintosh, "Politics in Nigeria: The Action Group Crisis of 1962," Political Studies (June 1963), 145-146. 2 For information on the major Nigerian political parties and the party composition of the Nigerian legislatures, 1960-65, see Figure 6.1 and Table 6.1. 3. The Western Regional election was held on October 11, 1965. The regional government banned public meetings and processions for eight weeks, including the entire three-week campaign period and five post-election weeks, allegedly to prevent violence. But the election was misconducted and violence ensued despite precautions. With 94 seats in the House of Assembly to be contested, 16 NNDP candidates were returned unopposed, including Akintola, whose opponent withdrew before election day. The UPGA alleged that its candidates in most of the uncontested constituencies were eliminated fraudulently. On election day, policemen discovered many thousands of ballot papers in the illegal possession of electoral officers who were appointed by the regional government. In addition, there were many reports of "stuffed" ballot boxes. Official election results, giving the NNDP a 3-to-l victory, were disputed by UPGA spokesmen, who claimed victory for their side. The Action Group Leader, Adegbenro, and several of his associates were arrested and charged with attempting to set up an illegal government; subsequently, they were discharged by the High Court of Western Nigeria when the government decided not to prosecute them. Furthermore, local authorities in the Eastern and Western Regions have banned newspapers that oppose the positions of their respective regional government parties. Thus, the long national crisis has entered another critical phase. 4. Previously, National Council of Nigeria and the Cameroons. The N C N C adopted its new name in 1961 after the Southern Cameroons separated from Nigeria to join the Cameroun Republic. 5. I regard this case study as an addendum to my book, Nigerian Political Parties: Power in an Emergent African Nation. In that work, I was concerned to examine the mechanics of the movement for Nigerian independence during the final decade of British colonial rule. Through an account of party competition and intraparty conflict, I attempted "to reveal the interplay of three converging social forces, namely, the thrust of nationalism, the persistence of cultural particularism, and the crystallization of emergent class interests." The major political parties of that period were the National Council of Nigeria and the Cameroons, the Action G r o u p of Nigeria, and the Northern People's Congress. In the case of the Action Group of Nigeria, I feel that the discussion in my book lacks logical completeness because the seeds of conflict within that party did not ripen until some sixteen months after independence. While the present study is intended to stand by itself, it is also intended to supplement the account and the argument in my book. Given the nature of this essay, I could not marshal my supporting evidence in the form of footnoted documentation, but the main sources include the following: Obafemi Awolowo, Path to Nigerian Freedom (London 1947); Awolowo, Awo: The Autobiography of Chief Obafemi Awolowo (Cambridge 1960); James S. Coleman, Nigeria: Background to Nationalism (Berkeley 1958); Richard L. Sklar, Nigerian Political Parties: Power in an Emergent African Nation (Princeton 1963). In addition, I made extensive use of publications in four categories: Action Group publications, government publications, cases and court records, and magazines and newspapers. A listing of those follows: Action

Group

Constitution

publications

of the Action Group of Nigeria (as amended by the 8th Congress of the

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Party held at Jos from February 2nd to 7th, 1962). (Lagos 1962). Report of the Eighth Congress of the Action Group of Nigeria held at Jos, Northern Nigeria, February 2-71962, with Appendices A-I. (mimeographed). Policy papers prepared under the auspices of the National Reconstruction Committee, (mimeographed). Democratic Socialism. Being the Manifesto of the Action Group of Nigeria for an Independent Nigeria. (Lagos 1960). African Unity. Being the text of Chief Obafemi Awolowo's press conference statement on June 28, 1961. (Lagos 1961). Government

Publications

Western Nigeria. White Paper on the New Political Alignment in Western Nigeria containing serious charges against the N C N C as an enemy of Western Nigeria by some of the leading members of the Party. Western Nigeria Official Document No. 1 (1964). Western Nigeria. House of Assembly Debates, Official Report. Tenth Session, 1961 to 1962. Federation of N i g e r i a . Parliamentary Debates, First Parliament . . . House of Representatives, especially November 29, 1960 and May 1962. Federation of Nigeria. Report of Coker Commission of Inquiry into the Affairs of Certain Statutory Corporations in Western Nigeria, 1962 4 Vols. (Lagos 1962). Federation of Nigeria. Comments of the Federal Government on the Report of Coker Commission of Inquiry into the Affairs of Certain Statutory Corporations in Western Nigeria. Session Paper No. 4 (1962). Federal Republic of Nigeria. The Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria. (Lagos 1963). Cases and Court

Records

Doherty v. Balewa (1961) 1 all N.L.R. 604. Adegbenro v. Akintola F.S.C. 187 (1962). Adegbenro v. Akintola (1963) All E.R. 544. The Queen and Maja and 30 Others, in re Omisade. Record of Appeal from the High Court of Lagos to the Federal Supreme Court. Index of Reference and 11 volumes. The Queen v. Omisade and 17 others. F.S.C. 404/63 The Queen v. Enahoro. Record of Appeal from the High Court of Lagos to the Supreme Court of Nigeria. 8 volumes. Magazines

and Newspapers

(Political

orientation

in

parenthesis).

The Nation. A monthly magazine (NCNC). Nigerian Opinion. A monthly journal of the Nigerian Current Affairs Society. The Service. A weekly magazine 1960-62 (Action Group). Daily Express (Action group; subsequently independent). Daily Sketch (NNDP). Daily Telegraph (NCNC). Daily Times (Independent). Morning Post (Federal Government). Nigerian Citizen (NPC). Nigerian Outlook (NCNC). Nigerian Tribune (Action Group). West African Pilot (NCNC).

7 Nigerian Politics in Perspective Richard L. Sklar

On January 15, 1966, a crisis-bound Nigerian government was overthrown by a swift military coup d'état. The Prime Minister of the Federal Republic and his powerful associate, the Federal Minister of Finance, were seized by soldiers in Lagos. Neither survived, although the death of the Prime Minister, who was not personally unpopular, may not have been premeditated. His political chief, the p r e m i e r of the vast Northern Region, w a s killed in Kaduna, and the latter's ally, the premier of the Western Region, died violently in Ibadan. Their major opponents among Nigerian office holders, namely the President of the Republic and the premiers of the Eastern and Midwestern Regions, escaped death. The President was on leave outside the country; it is not clear whether the two surviving premiers were spared by design or mistake. In any case, the tendency in Nigerian politics with which the survivors had been identified did appear to have triumphed despite their personal losses of power. After the coup, two somewhat contradictory explanations of the event were widely entertained. Neither does justice to the complexity of Nigerian politics. One c o m f o r t i n g explanation attributes the coup and its popular acceptance to widespread revulsion against the sins of the politicians—corruption, maladministration, tribalism, waste, drift and electoral fraud. This indictment is easy to document in detail; every item was cited to justify the event. But an enumeration of sins will not add up to an historical explanation. G o v e r n m e n t s are rarely if ever overthrown because they are abusive or incompetent. Revolutions are not automatic; they are made by men w h o believe in themselves and feel frustrated by the political order. A second unsatisfactory explanation of the January coup panders to the conventional stereotype of African politics as a struggle between antagonistic tribes. It is true enough that conflicts and violence in Africa are commonly channelled along tribal divisions. What does that prove? It tells us little about the actual causes of inter-group conflict and violence. Will any sociologist or psychologist assert that Negroes fight Puerto Ricans in New York because of Originally published in Government and Opposition 2, 4 (1967), 524-538 and reprinted by permission of the author and the publisher. Postscript originally published in Africa Today 16, 1 (1969), 3-4 and reprinted by permission of Africa Today Associates.

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their diverse ethnic backgrounds? Nor, in fairness, do many scholars tell us that Hausas fight Ibos in Kano because of their diverse ethnic or religious backgrounds. The debatable explanation at point here is a cut or so above common journalese. To elaborate. There are an estimated 8-9 million Ibos in Nigeria, 6-7 million of whom live in the overcrowded Eastern Region—overcrowded, that is, for an industrially underdeveloped country and by African standards. T h e others are scattered throughout Nigeria, employed in the provision of many crucial economic and social services. The industrious qualities of the Ibo people are proverbial and widely respected throughout West A f r i c a . In the Eastern Region itself, traditional Iboland, comprising half of the region's area, sustains a majority of its population. The East is also a petroleum-rich region. However, most of the known oil deposits are located in territories that are either at the margin or outside of Iboland. These facts are crucial to many political developments. Under the old regime, Ibo disaffection had been a growing source of political instability. The independence government of 1960 had been formed by a coalition of the Northern People's Congress (NPC) and the National C o n v e n t i o n of N i g e r i a n C i t i z e n s ( N C N C ) , with Sir A b u b a k a r T a f a w a Balewa, vice-president of the NPC, as Prime Minister of the Federation. At first, Sir Abubakar's party held a strong plurality in the federal House of Representatives; eventually, his party acquired an absolute majority in the House as opposition M e m b e r s of Parliament f r o m the Northern Region crossed over to the NPC. We need to remark that more than half of the federal parliamentary constituencies were located in the Northern Region, since constituencies were apportioned among regions in accordance with their populations, and the 1953 census had given the North some 56 per cent of the national total. The NCNC, oldest of the nationalist organizations in Nigeria, was both trans-regional in operation and trans-tribal in composition. But the party's main strength was in the Eastern Region and Ibos have supported it to the virtual exclusion of all national competitors. Certainly, Ibo solidarity under one party banner is unrivalled by the other major ethnic groups. Within the federal government coalition, severe tensions developed between the NPC and the NCNC. These were symptomatic of a deeper conflict between the Northern and Eastern regional governments. Leaders of those two regions vied for the fruits of national power. Their conflict was liable to facile articulation in tribalist language as a struggle between the Ibos and the Hausas, who constitute a majority in the North. As always, rival politicians were able to muster mass support by appealing to tribal sentiments. On that ground, the explanation of political conflict based on tribal rivalry is realistic. But it reveals little about the underlying causes and nature of the inter-regional conflict itself. These may be comprehended by a social and historical analysis that delves deeper than tribalism.

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AN EXPLANATION OF THE FIRST COUP D'ÉTAT Few "laws" in political science have stood the test of time as well as James Harrington's "law" of the "balance." 1 Succinctly, this law propounds that the divorce of property from political power will produce instability and civil war. True to his discovery, Harrington perceived that the English civil wars would result in a transfer of power from the King to the landed gentry, where it remained in fact until after 1832. In modern times, the critical forms of property are linked to industrial technology. With the breakup of communal and quasi-feudal social systems in Africa, new classes have emerged to demand power. Elsewhere, I have suggested that the political system of the first Nigerian Republic was undermined by an acute contradiction between the constitutional allocation of power and the real distribution of power in society. 2 The constitution gave dominant power to the numerical majority—i.e., to the dominant party of the Northern Region—while the real distribution of power is determined by technological and educational development, in which respect the southern regions are far superior. Since the dominant party of the North was determined to hold power at all costs, a political upheaval was likely to occur. In this light, the issue may appear to have been North versus South rather than North versus East (although the balance of technological power in the South is probably in the Eastern Region). However, an explanation of the upheaval in terms of North versus South is hardly less superficial than an explanation in terms of tribal rivalry. It simply overlooks the very real possibility of redressing the imbalance by means of negotiation and agreement among the power groups of the several regions. Here w e encounter the elements of chance and choice in social change. As in the English civil wars, there were at least two possible solutions to the imbalance between legal and real power—one conservative, the other radical. Nigerian conservatives, like the "silken gentlemen" of Cromwell's army, who finally won out, had a formula for peaceful development. I have termed it the "principle of regional security." 3 It prescribed the full regionalization of all political organizations capped by an agreement among regional leaders to respect the political status quo and share the fruits thereof on an equitable basis. That conservative tendency was as strong among leaders in the South as among leaders in the North. In fact, it was ardently espoused by the government of the Western Region and it had p o w e r f u l a d v o c a t e s in the Midwestern and Eastern Regions. It might be objected that the regional power system was bound to fail in the end because the politicians in power were too deficient both in ideas and in organizational ability to cope with the great economic problems of unemployment and wasteful expenditure. That, however, cannot be proved, and a few hard-headed economists did have faith in the political structure of the first republic. In any case, the failures of governments alone do not make

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revolutions, and the driving force of revolution in January 1966 can only be appreciated in the fullness of recent Nigerian history. For twenty years, the question of regional power has been a critical issue in Nigerian politics. In 1946, governmental regions were created in the North, East and West, leading to the adoption of a federal constitution in 1954. For about ten years from 1952-62, the system of regional power was relatively stable. There were three major political parties, each dominant in a region and rooted in its main cultural-linguistic group—Hausa in the North, Ibo in the East and Yoruba in the West. Each party was the organizational core of a political class, defined to include those who control the dominant institutions of society. 4 The regional party leaders operated highly effective systems of patronage, dispensing jobs, contracts, commercial loans, traditional titles, and scholarships. Young people in all parts of the country were pressured in various ways to support the regional government parties. Many of them regretted this necessity; others became cynical. Opinion follows interest, and many young adults furthered their careers by adopting regionalist principles and tribalist ideologies. According to this analysis, tribalism followed regionalism as an attitude of the political class. However, regionalism in Nigeria never fully triumphed. Originally, it was a colonial policy, while anti-regionalism was the main authentic tradition of the Nigerian nationalist movement. The high point of anti-regionalist assertion was, perhaps, 1951, when the leading nationalist party of that time—the N C N C — r e p u d i a t e d a regionalist constitution and affirmed its belief in unitary government. That stance, however, was shortly thereafter revised. The anti-regionalist cause in Nigeria was similar to the anti-provincialist cause of the nationalist movement in India. A great difference between the course of nationalism in Nigeria and that in India may be perceived in Gandhi's dictum that no national leader should hold a provincial government office under the 1935 scheme of provincial autonomy. In Nigeria, the decisive decision to the contrary may have been Nnamdi Azikiwe's decision to become Premier of the Eastern Region in 1954. The rationale of his action lies in the complex nature of the Nigerian nationalist struggle, involving intense competition for economic as well as political power. 5 The strategies adopted by Azikiwe and other nationalists, in particular the decision to compromise with regionalism, were strongly opposed by radical members of Azikiwe's own party, the NCNC. The radical movement as a whole never abandoned its antiregionalist cause. That tendency has persisted among radicals in all sections of the country, notably in the major urban centers and among the radical intelligentsia of the universities and the trade union movement. After independence, the anti-regionalist cause was espoused by Obafemi Awolowo, leader of the Action Group—the dominant political party of the Western Region—who had become leader of the opposition in the Federal House of Representatives. Awolowo's attempt to transform the Action Group

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into an explicitly socialistic party, aiming to divide the existing regions into smaller states, was resisted by his principal associates in the Western Region itself. Increasingly isolated from conservative and moderate opinion within his party, Awolowo became embroiled in clandestine activities, leading to his imprisonment and conviction upon a charge of treasonable felony. In the course of these events, his party split and lost control of the Western Regional government. Then the anti-regionalist cause merged (some would say that it became confused) with the political cause of the Eastern Region. The N C N C , the battered Action Group, and their radical allies in the North combined to form the United Progressive Grand Alliance, while their opponents, in control of the Northern, Western and federal governments, formed the Nigerian National Alliance. THE OFFICERS

INTERVENE

Meanwhile, in 1963, the N C N C had counted on a new census to reveal a population shift from North to South that might enable it and its allies to gain control of the federal government by electoral means. 6 To its dismay, the disputed census enumerated 30 million people in the Northern Region to 26 million in the south. In December 1964, U P G A leaders decided to boycott the federal election, alleging that it had been rigged against them, mainly in Northern c o n s t i t u e n c i e s . A f t e r a brief crisis, featuring a sharp dispute between President Azikiwe and the Prime Minister, Sir Abubakar Tafawa Balewa, over the validity of the election, an agreement was reached that left the Northern-dominated N N A in control of the federal government. 7 It has since been alleged that " a s far back as August 1965, a small group of army officers of a certain ethnic group [obviously Ibo] dissatisfied with political development within the Federation, began to plot, in collaboration with some civilians, the overthrow of what was then the Government of the Federation of Nigeria and the eventual assumption of power in the country." 8 The existence of a military plot became a virtual certainty after the blatantly rigged Western Regional election of October 1965, followed by a general breakdown of law and order in wide areas of that region. Local district meetings were reported to have declared their independence of the regional government at Ibadan. Behind the warring factions in the Western Region stood the Northern and Eastern regional governments. It has been reported that the Premiers of Northern and Western Nigeria had been informed of the military threat and had taken a firm decision to crush their military and political opponents. In these circumstances, the lightning coup of January 15 may have averted a civil war. All but a few of the fourteen coup leaders who have been identified 9 were Ibo junior officers, although their men belonged to various tribes. The victims, with one known exception, were non-Ibo officers and politicians who were identified (rightly or wrongly) with the old regime. It should not be

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forgotten that the Yoruba people of the Western Region had been in a state of insurrection for three months. From a radical Yoruba, i.e., Action Group, v i e w p o i n t , it w a s up to the Ibo o f f i c e r s to deliver the coup de grace. Typologically, the Ibo junior officers, personified by the young major C. K. Nzeogwu, who killed the Northern Premier, reincarnated the radical Zikists of the later 1940s who had been frustrated by the growth of regionalism and the conditions of bourgeois nationalism. 1 0 On January 17, Nzeogwu surrendered to Major-General Aguiyi-Ironsi, who had taken over in Lagos as supreme commander of the military government at the request of the federal council of ministers. It was reported that the insurgents had intended to kill the general, but decided to capitulate to him when their way to power was blocked by the bulk of the army. General Aguiyi-Ironsi, an Ibo, was acclaimed throughout Nigeria as the saviour of the nation. It was not until a year later, after the general had been assassinated, that his successors accused him of complicity in the coup, hinting, with scant evidence, that he had been in the picture from the beginning. 11 The advent of Aguiyi-Ironsi was approved by Nigerians of diverse ideological persuasions. Radicals revelled in the fall of the old regime; the southern bourgeoisie, especially its Eastern component, was glad to be rid of "northern domination"; conservative elements, like official western commentators, were obviously relieved by the figure of a politically m o d e r a t e supreme commander, who appeared to have thwarted the perilous designs of his rebellious subordinates. The general acted with delicacy to establish the non-tribalist nature and ideal of the new regime. A new deal was promised by the military government and joyfully anticipated by the country. Tribalism would be suppressed, corruption would be rooted out, wasteful drains on the treasury would be stopped, and the discredited politicians would not be allowed to return. Symbolically, the four regions were redesignated as groups of provinces under military governors who were tactfully chosen from the main respective ethnic groups. It was announced that a new territorial framework would be designed to replace the old regional system. Apparently, political power had shifted away from the Northern rulers and their allies to a more progressive section of the population. The dangerous imbalance between legal and technological power had been corrected. What had been socially necessary had been accomplished by political forces rooted in the specific historical conditions of Nigeria. The conflict between nationalism and regionalism, engendered by colonial rule, appeared to have been resolved by a decisive victory for the anti-regionalist side. WHY THE MILITARY GOVERNMENT FAILED The overthrow of regional power in Nigeria was not in itself a social revolution. To be sure, the ruling class of the North had been deprived of federal power and a slothful section of the Southern ruling class had been severely

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chastened. Anything more would depend upon the uncertain character of the military government. In keeping with its popular mandate and posture of public morality, the military government initiated a number of investigations into corruption and maladministration under the old r e g i m e . It a l s o c o m m i s s i o n e d an expert review of constitutional alternatives. However, the b a s i c p r o b l e m s of the country were neither moral, administrative, nor constitutional; they were political, and the military government w a s lacking in political acumen. It relied too heavily upon the advice of senior civil servants, many of whom have contempt for the vocation of politics and harbour ingrained technocratic sentiments. The new regime heaped scorn upon all the old politicians, almost without exception, and failed to appreciate political realities that should not have been ignored. In M a y , the m i l i t a r y g o v e r n m e n t d e c r e e d both the abolition of the regions as legal entities and the unification of the several public s e r v i c e establishments. Political parties and tribal a s s o c i a t i o n s were banned and General A g u i y i - I r o n s i declared that the military government would hold power for three years, unless its aims could be accomplished sooner. There was a sharp reaction in several Northern towns, where mobs attacked Ibos over a two day period, causing s o m e hundreds of deaths. Subsequently, a meeting of Northern c h i e f s and emirs, convened by the Northern military governor, accepted assurances from the military government that no permanent constitution would be imposed on the country without a democratic referendum. But the situation continued to deteriorate. Many of the old politicians were back in the field and Nigerian politics w a s about to revive in an ugly mood. B e c a u s e the military government had neglected to create a political basis for its new administrative structure and grand design, the political revival was destined to be chaotic. On July 29, an army mutiny broke out in the West. General Aguiyi-Ironsi was killed along with the Western military governor and many Ibo officers. It emerged that Northern soldiers had the upper hand and the Supreme Military Council asked Lt-Colonel Yakubu Gowon, a Northerner, who held the position of army chief of staff, to assume command. On August 1, he addressed the nation, deploring the " s a d and unfortunate incidents" of January 15, and declaring that unitary g o v e r n m e n t w a s u n w o r k a b l e in N i g e r i a . He acted immediately to release that staunch advocate of a strong federal government b a s e d on m a n y s t a t e s , C h i e f A w o l o w o , f r o m prison. S h o r t l y thereafter, Awolowo w a s chosen "leader of the Y o r u b a " by a conference of "leaders of thought" in the West. S o o n it appeared that the long-cherished hope of many anti-regionalists—a federal state of small regions, no one of which could dominate the rest, while each would have a sufficient degree of autonomy to feel secure in its identity—might actually be in the offing. Promising a rapid return to civilian rule, the new military g o v e r n m e n t r e p e a l e d the " u n i f i c a t i o n d e c r e e " o f

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May 24, restored the legal identities of the four regions, and took steps to convene a conference of regional representatives to formulate new constitutional principles. Colonel Gowon asked the conference, known as the ad hoc constitutional committee, to rule out the extreme ideas of unitary government on the one hand and dissolution of the country into its component parts on the other. Among the members and advisers of the several delegations were men of outstanding political skill, notably politicians who had been identified with the U P G A c a u s e in the Northern, Western and Midwestern R e g i o n s : Awolowo from the West, Anthony Enahoro, who had been imprisoned with Awolowo, from the Midwest, and two radical opposition leaders in the Northern Region, Aminu Kano and J. S. Tarka. Eventually, all delegations, save the Eastern, accepted the idea of a strong federal government based on small states. Ironically, the Easterners, long-time partisans of centralization, now favored a loose association (or confederation) of strong regions. So long as the N C N C had existed, independently or as part of a greater political alliance, the leaders of Eastern Nigeria had never espoused regional separatism to the detriment of Nigerian unity. Now the party was gone, abolished by decree, and the East, smarting under the blows of the July mutiny and continued organized violence against Ibos in many areas of the North, had given way to a regionalist tendency. While the East is an overcrowded area, it is also the center of a vast and growing petroleum industry. Sorely provoked, the Ibos were in a mood to break away with the precious oil, a la Katanga. But non-Ibo elements in the East, in whose land the oil reserves are largely located, were adamantly opposed to secession. Soon, hopes for a reversal of the uncharacteristic Eastern position began to rise. They were dashed brutally in late September by a wave of systematic violence against Ibos throughout the Northern Region that lasted for several days, dealing the cause of Nigerian unity a seemingly irreparable blow. Some thirty thousand persons were killed and more than a million refugees, mainly from the North, fled to the East. When the constitutional talks resumed in late October, Eastern delegates did not attend. Many reports from Nigeria confirm that the "pogrom" (a term used in official statements and publications of the Eastern regional government) in the North had been carefully planned and ruthlessly executed. In many towns, killings began in the evening of September 30. Earlier that day the federal military government had disclosed the contents of an interim report by the constitutional committee, including "substantial but not as yet unanimous agreement that more States should be created in Nigeria" in accordance with "the wishes of the people" as determined by plebiscite. The Northern delegation is reported to have concurred in this recommendation and it was hoped that the Easterners would be persuaded to reconsider their objections. In this light, the "pogrom" might be seen as an attempt by die-hard Northern politicians to destroy the hope of an anti-regionalist settlement. But another disquieting fact indicated that such a Machiavellian explanation was not the whole

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story. Some of the worst crimes were committed by soldiers of Northern origin, most of whom, however, were neither Hausa nor Muslim. 1 2 Moreover, Ibos were assaulted ferociously by non-Hausa Northerners in the southerly portion of the Northern Region, where the inhabitants are presumed to favor the creation of a Middle Belt state. Non-Hausa Middle Belters are predominant among Northern soldiers; indeed, Colonel Gowon, himself a Christian, hails from a small Middle Belt tribe. Why did non-Muslim Middle Belt soldiers join with Muslim Hausas to massacre non-Muslim Ibos? Surely it was not in defense of the existing regional pattern, since the Middle Belters have long wanted their own state and it was Middle Belt pressure that forced the Northern delegation to the constitutional conference to support the creation of new states. When the conference convened in September, both the Northern and the Eastern delegations had favored a loose federation of the existing regions. The Western delegation seemed ready to conform until Middle Belt pressures produced a change in the Northern position. 13 At this juncture, J. S. Tarka, leader of the Middle Belt state movement, emerged as the most formidable of the Northern delegation members. In short, the Middle Belters, like minority elements in the Eastern Region, were both anti-Ibo and anti-regionalist. Can their position be interpreted in terms other than plain tribalism? An historical view is once again required. REGIONALISM AND TRIBES We have argued that regionalism was the chief political characteristic of the first republic, its underlying political issue, and the cause of its great crisis. Closely related to regionalism, but analytically distinct from it, was another prime characteristic of the old system, namely the political predominance in every region of a major tribal group—Hausa in the North, Ibo in the East, and Yoruba in the West. The political structure of the first republic had been based on a tripartite agreement between leaders of the big tribes, and big tribe chauvinism was a legacy of the tripartite system. The so-called minority tribes had never been satisfied with the political structure of pre-coup Nigeria. Repelled by big tribe chauvinism within the major political parties, ambitious and gifted activists of minority tribe origin found scope for their talents in the trade union m o v e m e n t , in small radical parties, and in subregional separatist parties. 1 4 Statistically, the chances of serious disaffection from the system were relatively great, since the c o m b i n e d minorities comprise over one third—possible forty per cent—of the total population. There is a paradox in much writing on Nigeria that has often been overlooked. There are said to be over 400 ethnic groups in the country, but most commentaries dwell mainly on conditions within and relations among the big three tribes. We have very few detailed studies of political behavior among the other forty per cent. 15 In fact, it has been generally assumed that the minorities were too fragmented to act

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together as a political force, and they have been overlooked in the distribution of economic goods, political power, and psychological consideration. Since 1957, Awolowo, as leader of the Action Group, has been a champion of the minority group demand for more states. He has held this view sincerely on intellectual grounds, but it is also true that so long as his party, based mainly on the Yoruba, was in opposition to the federal government coalition, his principle was also good politics for the Yoruba. At the constitutional conference convened by Colonel Gowon in September 1966, only the small Midwestern Region, which had been excised from the West in 1963, did not waver in its espousal of a strong federal government based on small states. When the chips were down, the minorities could not rely on any big region support, but they were now supreme in the army, and Tarka, the unquestioned leader of a million Middle Belt Tiv, pressed his point to the hilt, while the leaders of minority tribes in the East stoutly resisted the secession of that region. If the January coup tolled the overthrow of regionalism, the July mutiny and its cruel aftermath spelled revenge against big tribe chauvinism. The neglected and ever-disparaged "pagans" of the Middle Belt joined forces with beaten regionalists to advance their own cause and assert their presence in Nigerian politics. Their victims were their natural competitors in a world of scarcity—industrious Ibos from the East, who did everything they would like to have done themselves. This is more than "tribalism." It is the deeper, chaotic aggressiveness of depressed people who resent the mean conditions of their lives. Tribal persecution, like racial and religious persecution, is a consequence of poverty, insecurity, and the lack of opportunity for satisfying employment. 16 WHY THE ISSUES PERSIST

Looking back on the course of Nigerian politics since the second world war, we may perceive a continuing oscillation between national and regional values. This may be attributed to the following causes among others. First, an inner contradiction of British colonial policy: "There was always a hidden conflict, a constitutional tug-of-war, between Indirect Rule—which tended to accentuate differences within and between Regions—and the developing system of Crown Colony Government—which, in the reforms of 1922-54, had to reconcile such conflicts at the center." 17 Secondly, the growth of culturally particularistic forms of nationalism within the nationalist movement; 18 thirdly, the identification of privileged class interests with regional power, so that regionalism itself became an ideological posture in Nigerian politics. An extreme assertion of regionalism by the conservative rulers of the first republic engendered an equally extreme thrust in the opposite direction by their centralizing successors. Particularism struck back vengefully, and the current oscillation may yet culminate in a complete breakaway of one or more regions. After the September massacres, Eastern delegates did not return to meetings of the ad hoc constitutional committee. At length, in

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January 1967, the Supreme Military Council met at Aburi, Ghana. Lt-Col. C. Odumegwu-Ojukwu, Military Governor of Eastern Nigeria, presented the views of his dissident region. 19 For the time being, he said, the regions would have to "move slightly apart" for the country to survive. His region did not even recognize the existence of a central government or supreme commander. The Military Council, he suggested, should be headed by a "titular" commander-in-chief, who would function as a "chairman" and "constitutional" (nonexecutive) head of state. All decisions affecting the regions would require their concurrence, and all decrees in force to the contrary should be repealed forthwith. In short, the East demanded regional autonomy and an effective veto over measures that it might not accept. The meeting went a long way towards acceptance of the Eastern view. It was agreed that the chairman of the Supreme Military Council would be titled Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces and Head of the Federal Military Government; that all decisions affecting "the whole country" would be determined by the Supreme Military Council (although the need for unanimity in the taking of decisions and the question of whether the council could be convened in the absence of one or more of the military governors were left vague); that such matters would be referred to the regional military governors for "comment and concurrence" whenever the Military Council could not meet; that all decrees of the national and federal military governments that were contrary to these agreements would be repealed within a few weeks; that senior appointments in the armed forces, police, federal government, and diplomatic service would be made by the Supreme Military Council; that the army would be organized into regional commands, subject to the control of regional military governors in matters of internal security. Special committees were created to deal with fiscal, legal, and military problems, and with the rehabilitation, employment, and property of displaced persons. The Eastern Military Governor reported that his region had absorbed 1.5 million refugees. For security reasons, he did not feel able, as yet, to permit the return of non-Easterners who had been expelled from that region. He did, however, accept that the Midwestern and Western Regions might have to send Easterners back to the East to ease the acute unemployment problems of those regions. Finally, it was agreed to reconvene the Supreme Military Council in Nigeria. Soon thereafter, the Eastern Military Governor voiced his dissatisfaction with the implementation of the agreements reached in Ghana. Inevitably, there were problems of interpretation. When the military leaders met in March, at the midwestern capital of Benin City, the Eastern Military Governor did not attend. Disavowing secessionist aims, he declared that his region would move, unilaterally if need be, towards greater "decentralization" and autonomy. The secession of one or more regions will not settle the issue of territorial separatism. Non-Ibo separatism is a powerful force within the Eastern

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Region, and any number of separatist movements are either active or latent in the rest of the country. Nonetheless, we should not assume that this process of fragmentation is irreversible in our time. At bottom, the nationalist tradition is not narrowly nationalistic; it is inspired by supranational goals of the African renaissance. If Nigeria splits apart, the nationalist vanguard may yet regroup on a greater regional, e.g., West African, basis. The state system of post-colonial West Africa as a whole is bankrupt and the time for a revival of West African nationalism may be ripe. If Nigeria does stay together as one sovereign state, its viability would seem to depend upon the discovery of a political formula that will satisfy local aspirations for self-government, while it permits the national government to grow in stature through the promotion of economic development and the provision of social welfare services. 2 0 It is unlikely that a confederation of regions would be equal to that task. Truly national institutions would be too few in number, too limited in their binding effects, and too distant from the people to offset the divisive forces of regional self-interest. Any serious disagreement between the regions, e.g., over revenue allocation or matters of foreign policy, could result in a final division of the country. On the other hand, a constitutional settlement that provides for an effective national government on paper seems unlikely to work in practice unless it is underpinned by a viable political settlement. There is need for a nation-wide party, front, congress, or whatever it may be called, to avert ethnic and sectional separatism in political organization. Heretofore, entire sections of the population have been alienated from the national government. The West was an "odd region out" during the first republic. The East was "out" after the abortive 1964 election. The North was "out" during the first military regime. The East was "out" after the July mutiny. Middle Belters, midwesterners, peoples of the Cross River, and Niger Deltans have been "out" most of the time. It is, perhaps, to Nigeria's credit that partial regimes do not survive. It has been suggested that a constitution might be devised to ensure that no section of the country will be excluded from its fair share in the central government. Doubtless, something can be done in that direction. But constitutional provisions alone are not likely to prevent the political isolation or neglect of ethno-sectional groups. That is a political task, best undertaken by a nation-wide party of national purpose, within which there could be a beneficial exchange of ideas and a creative development of doctrine. This does not imply the legal institution of a one-party state. It is always dangerous to proscribe opposition in a politically vibrant society of people who want to be free. A POSTSCRIPT The causes of conflict in post-colonial Nigeria are complex and controversial. What cannot be doubted now is the desire of the great mass of the Ibo-speaking people to secede from Nigeria. Few peoples or nations in modern times

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have been as resolute and united in the face of death as have the Ibo. If the principle of self-determination means much today, it should apply in this case. Biafra's right to be independent of Nigeria has been contested on various grounds. First, it is alleged that the non-Ibo people of Biafra do not desire to secede with the Ibos. This, surely, is a negotiable and soluble issue. The right to self-determination of all peoples who suffer in this tragedy should be upheld. Biafra's government has offered to abide by the principle of free choice. This principle should also be extended to the hapless Ibos of the neighboring Midwestern State. Secondly, many Nigerians, especially among the intelligentsia, have a strong emotional commitment to the preservation of Nigerian unity. Many of those who feel this way are deeply patriotic. My criticism of their stand is tempered with respect for their idealism. Yet, I think it is wrong to put the value and interest of the state—Nigeria—over and above the clearly asserted interest of the people. It seems irrational for an African government to decimate an African people merely to maintain the unity of a recently inherited state. What price such unity? Here it is the reduction of a proud and prosperous people to the bare bones of existence. A third argument against Biafran independence is rational in terms of the self-interest of other Nigerian groups. They fear that if one section goes, others too may go. If the Ibos can be independent, why not the Yorubas, the Kanuris, or the Kano State? Minority groups in the Middle Belt, especially, dread the breakup of the country into three or four parts, in which case they might revert to their previous condition of appendages to the emirate system of Northern Nigeria. It is not surprising that these elements, now so prominent in the army, are among the most vehement campaigners to keep Nigeria one. Their views are reasonable, and therein lies the tragic core of this dispute. It is not right for the Ibos to be punished and denied their freedom; yet the Federal Government has a cogent case. The war goes on mainly because there is no logical solution to be found within the context of the existing pattern of petty statehoods. The way out is via a truly pan-African solution—one that would transcend both the parochial nationalism of Nigeria and the parochial nationalism of Biafra. We should sympathize with the values of the best of the Nigerian patriots. With them, we should say "unity." But unity need not be predicated on the preservation of states created during the colonial era. Local boundary adjustments, when they are desired by the people concerned, need not be inconsistent with the promotion of African unity and may even facilitate that purpose. Is this visionary? Perhaps; but the pan-African vision is a better guide to action than the destructive realpolitik of parochial nationalism. From the pan-African perspective, Biafran nationalism and Nigerian nationalism are equally parochial and inadequate. Certainly the Nigerian nationalist position is not superior to the Biafran. Neither one should be maintained as a political fetish.

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NOTES 1. The Commonwealth of Oceana, 1656. 2. See C h a p t e r 4 of this book. 3. See C h a p t e r 6 of this book, pp. 1 4 3 - 1 4 4 . 4. G a e t a n o M o s c a , The Ruling Class (1896); republ. ( N e w York 1939). 5. See m y analysis in Nigerian Political Parties (Princeton 1963), 1 4 3 - 8 9 . 6. In January 1966, prior to the coup d'état, Dr. C h u k u k a O k o n j o , director of the Center for Population Studies of the University of Ibadan, read a paper to the First A n n u a l Population C o n f e r e n c e held at the University of Ibadan, bravely asserting that "the best available estimate of the 1962 m i d - y e a r population" w a s s o m e 45 m i l l i o n - 2 2 million in the north and 2 3 million in the southern regions. " A Preliminary M e d i u m Estimate of the 1 9 6 2 Mid-Year Population of Nigeria." See also S. A. A l u k o , " H o w M a n y N i g e r i a n s ? , " The Journal of Modern African Studies, 3, 3 (1965), 3 7 1 - 3 9 2 . 7. T h e most c o m p l e t e account of this crisis is by John P. Mackintosh, Nigerian Government and Politics ( L o n d o n 1 9 6 6 ) , 5 4 5 - 6 0 9 , w h o a s s e r t s that P r e s i d e n t A z i k i w e tried to take over the g o v e r n m e n t d u r i n g the crisis, an assertion that has also been m a d e on several o c c a s i o n s by the L o n d o n weekly, West Africa. I see A z i k i w e ' s actions as an attempt to prevent a dangerously unfair electoral coup by the N N A . S e e a l s o O l u w o l e I. O d u m o s u , " C o n s t i t u t i o n a l C r i s i s : L e g a l i t y and the P r e s i d e n t ' s C o n s c i e n c e " (n.d.). 8. D o c u m e n t p u b l i s h e d by the F e d e r a l M i l i t a r y G o v e r n m e n t , q u o t e d in the Daily Times ( L a g o s ) , O c t . 21, 1966, 2. A s u b s e q u e n t p u b l i c a t i o n by the F e d e r a l Military G o v e r n m e n t revised this statement to allege that Ibo army officers planned to seize power as far back as D e c e m b e r 1964. Nigeria 1966 (Lagos 1967), 5 - 6 . 9. Ibid., p. 5. 10. T h e Zikists derived their inspiration f r o m the nationalist doctrines of N n a m d i Azikiwe. 11. Nigeria 1966, 6. 12. See Colin L e g u m ' s report in The Observer ( L o n d o n ) , Oct. 23, 1966. 13. West Africa, Sept. 24, 1966, 1079. 14. I a m indebted for this observation on the contribution of persons of minority tribe origin to the trade u n i o n and organized radical m o v e m e n t s to Robert M e l s o n , w h o s e political study of socialists in the Nigerian labor m o v e m e n t is in preparation. 15. A n o u t s t a n d i n g exception is Martin J. D e n t ' s study of politics in Tivland in J. P. M a c k i n t o s h , op. cit., 4 6 1 - 5 0 7 . 16. S e e the s o p h i s t i c a t e d interpretation of tribal v i o l e n c e in N i g e r i a by C o l i n L e g u m in The Observer (London), Oct. 16, 1966, and my c o m m e n t in C h a p t e r 9 of this book, pp. 1 9 8 - 1 9 9 . 17. D e n n i s Austin, West Africa and the Commonwealth ( L o n d o n 1957), 82. 18. J a m e s S. C o l e m a n , Nigeria: Background to Nationalism (Berkeley and Los A n g e l e s 1958). 19. Federal R e p u b l i c of Nigeria, Meeting of the Nigerian Military Leaders held at Peduase Lodge, Aburi, Ghana 4th and 5th January, 1967 (Lagos 1967). 20. S e e O b a f e m i A w o l o w o , Thoughts on the Nigerian Constitution (Ibadan 1966); N n a m d i A z i k i w e , " E s s e n t i a l s f o r N i g e r i a n S u r v i v a l , " Foreign Affairs 43, 3 (April 1965), 4 4 7 - 4 6 1 ; W. Arthur Lewis, Politics in West Africa (London 1965).

II CLASS AND CULTURE

8 A Dysrhythmic Process of Political Change C. S. Whitaker

i W i t h several notable and recent e x c e p t i o n s , the current literature on " m o d e r n i z a t i o n " in " d e v e l o p i n g c o u n t r i e s " implicitly or e x p l i c i t l y a s s u m e s an inherent irreconcilability b e t w e e n " m o d e r n " and " t r a d i t i o n a l " values, institutions, and b e h a v i o r p a t t e r n s . R e l a t e d to this a s s u m p t i o n is the e x p e c t a t i o n that w h e n e v e r important e l e m e n t s o f these two s o c i a l s y s t e m s c o l l i d e , the natural result is s o c i a l c o n v u l s i o n . It is typical o f this literature to qualify these a s s u m p t i o n s with the c a v e a t , c o m m o n l y e m p l o y e d in c o n j u n c t i o n with the use o f " i d e a l t y p e s , " that differe n c e s b e t w e e n these t w o apparent c l a s s e s o f society are only relative, or that " p u r e " c a s e s o f either type are n e v e r manifested. L o g i c a l l y , h o w e v e r , these c a v e a t s do not contradict the assumption o f a mutual e x c l u s i v i t y o f these systems, nor can those w h o e m p l o y them r e a s o n a b l y intend that they should. 1 T h u s , even those s c h o l a r s w h o insist on a " q u a l i f i e d " d i c h o t o m o u s relationship o f these s y s t e m s tend to b e l i e v e n o n e t h e l e s s that virtually the only alternatives f a c i n g people s i g n i f i c a n t l y e x p o s e d to m o d e r n i t y are atavistic withdrawal or a prolonged period o f s e v e r e strain, instability and c o n f l i c t . M y study o f Northern N i g e r i a ' s e n c o u n t e r with modernity and findings o f s o m e o t h e r s e l s e w h e r e lead m e to r e j e c t d i c h o t o m o u s c o n c e p t u a l i z a t i o n s o f the nature and p r o c e s s o f c h a n g e in the s o - c a l l e d d e v e l o p i n g areas, at least as universally valid. Indeed, this r e j e c t i o n e x t e n d s to the very terms " m o d e r n " and " t r a d i t i o n a l " as a n a l y t i c tools. T o discuss this position fully is b e y o n d the f e a s i b l e c o n f i n e s o f an article: m y intention is to do so in a larger w o r k . H e r e it m u s t s u f f i c e m e r e l y to sugg e s t that a f u l l c r i t i q u e e n t a i l s e x a m i n a t i o n o f ( 1 ) t h e c o m p a r a b i l i t y

of

Western and n o n - W e s t e r n c o n t e x t s o f c h a n g e , ( 2 ) the l o g i c a l c o g e n c y o f the p r e m i s e o f d i c h o t o m y , ( 3 ) the a d e q u a c y o f the t y p o l o g y o f s o c i e t i e s associated with this p r e m i s e , and ( 4 ) the predictive/explanatory v a l u e o f this p r e m i s e with respect to s p e c i f i c p r o b l e m s and c o n d i t i o n s o f c h a n g e . T h e o b j e c t o f this Originally published in World Politics 19, 2 (Princeton 1967), 190-217. Republished in Ikuo Kabashima & Lynn T. White III (eds.), Political Systems and Change (Princeton 1986). Reprinted by permission of the author and Princeton University Press. 169

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article is more limited, but highly relevant to these matters. Before discussing it, however, perhaps a few more comments about the wider context are in order. As others have noted, today's scholars of "modernization" are intellectual heirs of the most noted students of sociopolitical change in Western societies. Maine, Morgan, Weber, Tonnies, and Durkheim advanced parallel concepts of observable contrasts between historic periods—status and contract, societas and civitas, traditional and rational authority, Gesellschaft and Gemeinschaft relations, mechanical and organic solidarity. Indeed, our present conceptual understanding of sociopolitical change in general very largely is the work of these men, each of whom arrived at his concepts in an attempt to identify principles or norms of institutions and behavior implicit in change. Whatever the merits of this exercise, which is not without possible controversy, in the hands of students of contemporary change in non-Western societies it has become something profoundly if subtly different. The original c o n c e p t s represent a b s t r a c t i o n s derived f r o m r e t r o s p e c t i v e analysis of Western experience in terms of certain overt antagonisms of cognition, sentiment, and value, which may be shown to have accompanied sociopolitical change in the West. From an apparent soundness of these concepts in that context, today's student of "modernization" has inferred what in effect is a hypothesis about how non-Western people generally will react to the kind of institutions yielded by change in the West. This hypothesis in essence is that ultimately all non-Western peoples will either accept or reject these institutions, more or less wholesale. (This hypothesis may be called, from the point of view of the non-Western indigenous institutions, the displacement/rejection alternative.) To reject this hypothesis is to discard the notion of "modernization." To do so in light of its pervasive influence and deep intellectual roots must at first appear foolhardy; certainly to dismiss it simply on grounds of cultural relativism seems lame and unpersuasive. To challenge the concept at the roots, however, seems to me essential if social scientists are to come to grips with important realities in at least parts of the non-Western world. In this article, the object is to present a critique of only one of several assumptions entailed in conceptualizing the encounter of "modernity" and " t r a d i t i o n a l l y " in terms of (allegedly) mutually exclusive social qualities (e.g., universalism versus particularism, achievement versus ascription, specificity versus diffuseness, and so on). For this purpose, the Northern Nigerian experience provides relevant empirical material. Stated succinctly, the proposition to be examined here is that the process of sociopolitical change in contemporary developing societies is necessarily eurhythmic. The term "eurhythmic" is advanced because it encompasses variable connotations of several other terms more commonly used to characterize a supposed relation of various constituents in a process of change, namely, "interdependent," "complementary," "harmonious," "syndromatic," and so

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on. At least two such distinguishable meanings are germane to our discussion: (1) Significant change in one sphere of activity (e.g., economy) occasions corresponding and supportive change in another sphere (e.g., polity or cult). (2) Within a given sphere of social activity, significant change in any one aspect of the activity (e.g., normative, psychological, institutional, structural) promotes consistent change in ail or most other aspects. 2 The universality or necessity of a eurhythmic relation of elements in change, in either or both of the above senses, is the specific claim that this article challenges. Before I present an account of the substance and dynamics of certain changes in Northern Nigeria which seem to disconfirm the hypotheses of eurhythmy, two assertions implied in the preceding paragraphs should be elaborated and underscored. The first is that belief in the mutual exclusivity of "modern" and "traditional" patterns is encouraged by assuming a necessary eurhythmic process; the second is that both ideas are widely held among students of contemporary social and political change in "developing countries." A third pertinent preliminary step will be to indicate some of the arguments commonly advanced in support of the view that a eurhythmic pattern of change is necessary. I shall also want to draw attention to the views of those alluded to above as "notable exceptions," whose ranks have increased significantly of late. II

Scant reflection is needed to see the link between the two ideas. If a certain change is incapable of being isolated, contained, or counteracted as between different spheres and aspects of action, the impact of this change on the encountering society must be either transformative or abortive. To hold, in other words, that novelty is indivisible or that an innovation inevitably produces a chain reaction of mutually reinforcing consequences is to rule out the possibility of equivocal results. Innovations that come only in an "explosive package" cannot form stable mixtures or viable combinations with important elements of the encountering society. That such mixtures or equivocations are impossible is clearly the implication of postulating irreconcilability between "modernity" and "traditionality." To speak in logical terms, eurhythmic process constitutes a necessary condition of irreconcilability. Eurhythmic process is not, however, a sufficient condition of irreconcilability (since, for example, change might proceed eurhythmically in an encountering society that previously contained a perfect correlative of an innovation). It follows that those who hold with dichotomous analysis are committed, willy-nilly, to the postulate of eurhythmy and that those who reject the first position must abandon the second. But the converse is not necessarily true.

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III As to my second assertion, just a partial listing of the relevant scholars indicates the currency and persuasiveness of the conceptual apparatus in question: Parsons, Levy, Hagen, Sutton, Shils, Redfield, Riggs, Millikan and Blackmer, Sinai, the Etzionis, and (despite recent appearances to the contrary) Apter—and even this partial listing is deliberately focused only on those whose work consciously extends beyond the context of a particular case. (The number of empirical cases treated from the perspective in different branches of the social sciences is simply too prodigious to attempt their inclusion. This list also leaves aside many instances in which dichotomous formulations of change have been accepted as a feature of the analysis of problems that are related to but distinguishable from the study of change as such, e.g., much of the current literature on political integration. It also excludes certain theorists whose commitment to dichotomous schemata is less explicit and overt and therefore too hard to pin down within the limits of this article.) Although the dichotomous analytical framework of the contemporary social scientists mentioned above is sufficiently known to make extensive elaboration of that point unnecessary here, their related attachment to the eurhythmic hypothesis does warrant special attention. Here, too, I have selected as representatives of the position only those who have most clearly articulated it. And in this company, Marion J. Levy, Jr., is conspicuous. In a p a p e r p u b l i s h e d in 1 9 5 2 d i s c u s s i n g w h a t he e n t i t l e d " T h e Vulnerability of the Structures of Relatively Non-Industrialized Societies to Those of Industrialized Societies," 3 Levy, taking for granted the validity of the mutual exclusivity idea (which he regarded as "too obvious to require elaboration") and acknowledging that his discussion is based on Parsons' patternvariable formulation, asserts an apparent tendency of those patterns to b e c o m e generalized widely through a social system if that system is to maintain its adjustment to its setting. The allocation of goods and services is only analytically separable from the allocation of power and responsibility. Highly universalistic relations in the economic aspects of action are functionally incompatible with highly particularistic ones in the political (i.e., allocation of power and responsibility) aspects of action, (p. 123) The introduction of new patterns from one relatively non-industrialized s o c i e t y to another can frequently be absorbed with relatively slight changes. . . [but] the highly industrialized patterns break this mold and as a minimum afford an alternative economic base for deviance not otherwise provided. In case after case the initial patterns of family organization, of production units, and of authority and responsibility have broken down, (p. 124) The net balance of subversiveness would seem to be a function of the motivation or pressures to attempt new patterns. . . . The processes [of change in the direction of highly industrialized patterns]. . . once started. . .

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may create stresses and strains that motivate further abandonments of the old, if only because of presentation of a functioning alternative to serve as a standard, (p. 125) Study of the prospects for long-run stability of highly industrialized systems of economic allocation combined with highly authoritarian systems of political allocation turns up extremely interesting hypotheses. They are hypotheses that, if tenable, are extremely pessimistic for long-run stability of such systems, (p. 123, n.7) In a m u c h m o r e r e c e n t article, L e v y h a s reiterated the e u r h y t h m i c hypothesis underlying these paragraphs in terms that are, if anything, more explicit and, for the present purposes, most appropriate:

We are confronted—whether for good or for bad—with a universal social solvent. The patterns of the relatively modernized societies, once developed, have shown a universal tendency to penetrate any social context whose participants have come in contact with them. From many points of view it makes little difference whether these patterns penetrate at least partially by the will and preference of relatively nonmodernized peoples or whether they have the patterns thrust upon them. The patterns always penetrate; once the penetration has begun, the previous indigenous patterns always change; and they always change in the direction of some of the patterns of the relatively modernized society. 4 Of particular interest in this last quotation is the deliberate dismissal (in the third s e n t e n c e ) of any reason to distinguish fundamentally between the historic experiences of the Western c a s e s and those of non-Western countries currently being e x p o s e d to patterns predeveloped, as it were, in the West. In other words, one is encouraged to disbelieve that there are any significantly d i f f e r e n t results that f o l l o w f r o m e x o g e n o u s l y as against e n d o g e n o u s l y induced change. 5 It is w e l l to reiterate that L e v y has been singled out here only b e c a u s e he states s y s t e m a t i c a l l y and u n e q u i v o c a l l y what m a n y others v a g u e l y imply. Thus, in the pertinent literature are to be readily found looser expressions, the eurhythmic purport of w h i c h is tantamount to that of the statements by L e v y cited above: The process of modernization is a seamless web, and the strands that compose it can be analytically separated only with some loss of realism." (Millikan and Blackmer) 6

A n d more explicitly, In the countries in which the transition to economic growth has occurred it has been concomitant with far-reaching change in political organization, social structure, and attitudes toward life. The relationship is so striking and so universal that to assume that one of these aspects of basic social change

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is unrelated to the others is to strain the doctrine of coincidence b e y o n d all warrant. ( H a g e n ) 7

Riggs, endorsing Toynbee, strikes a similar note: T o y n b e e asserts that e l e m e n t s in his spectrum are interdependent, despite their s e e m i n g autonomy, so that a borrower f i n d s h e cannot limit his borr o w i n g to one element, but must g o on to b o r r o w more: " o n e thing f o l l o w s another." T h i s tends to c o n f i r m our hypothesis about the functional interdependence of institutions in our m o d e l s , and the tension of disequilibrium in transitional s e t t i n g s w h e r e d y s f u n c t i o n a l e l e m e n t s h a v e been introduced f r o m external sources. . . . It is only after they h a v e borrowed the innovations that they d i s c o v e r they h a v e opened their doors to a modern " T r o j a n horse."8

In his more recent reformulations, Riggs develops the same theme in the context of legal and juridical innovations said to be brought by industrialization: T h e introduction of contract procedures and s a f e g u a r d s begins to transform the w h o l e social and e c o n o m i c structure, all the w a y from the nature of the m a r r i a g e v o w s to the e m e r g e n c e of associations and the reorganizations of the bureaucracy. 9

Summarizing the contributions of twelve different authors on the general topic "Processes of Change: Initiation, Diffusion, Termination," the Etzionis point out in the concluding section of their volume on social change that u n d e r l y i n g the a n a l y s i s of most p r o c e s s e s d e s c r i b e d in this section is the assumption that the v a r i o u s parts of any social s y s t e m are interdependent, s o that c h a n g e s in o n e s e c t o r w i l l be f o l l o w e d b y strains w h i c h n e c e s s i t a t e adjustive c h a n g e s in other sectors if the social s y s t e m is to maintain its v i a bility.™

At the risk of tedium, it would be easy to go on culling comparable statements, varying in degree of explicitness, from other contributions to the literature; but I trust that those quoted serve adequately to indicate the currency and prevalence of the proposition under examination here. Having deliberately lifted these statements from what are for the most part very carefully developed schemes of analysis so as to make the issues starkly clear, it is only proper for me to dispel any suggestion of unsubtleness on the part of the authors concerned. One frequently made point, for example, is the likely occurrence of a time lag in change as between different spheres or aspects of action. Since not every conceivable action or behavioral pattern is regarded as germane (though there is disagreement on what is or is not

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g e r m a n e , e.g., cult), r o o m is usually left f o r residual s p h e r e s that m a y be u n a f f e c t e d by o t h e r w i s e t r a n s f o r m a t i v e c h a n g e . H o w e v e r , these and other exigencies are v i e w e d precisely as complicating or limiting the scope of the eurhythmic process, not as invalidating the basic proposition. It should also be noted in this connection that the idea of inevitability of c h a n g e is not necessarily or p r o p e r l y i n v o l v e d here; rather the crux of the a r g u m e n t is that when and if s o m e s i g n i f i c a n t e l e m e n t of m o d e r n Western society starts to penetrate or sustain itself in one m a j o r context of a society it always thereafter spreads, eurhythmically, to the others. Thus, s o m e but not all of those writers cited explicitly allow for the possibility of an arrestation of c h a n g e (as a whole) or for its complete reversal. Finally, it is most important to observe that while most of the scholars m e n t i o n e d focus primarily on one sector or aspect of society, each nevertheless acknowledges, and s o m e emphasize, the transformative change m a y also originate in any of the other sectors. IV S e v e r a l f a c t o r s are f r e q u e n t l y c i t e d as c o n t r i b u t i n g to the n e c e s s i t y of a eurhythmic process of c h a n g e , though these are f o r m u l a t e d with varying clarity and precision in the different w o r k s of the literature concerned. (But significantly, the idea is hardly developed at all in cases w h e r e eurhythmic process is in effect deduced f r o m the d i c h o t o m o u s premise.) At least f o u r such factors or considerations m a y be extrapolated and s u m m a r i z e d , in no particular rank order of incidence or salience, as follows: 1. Psychological. P e o p l e w h o acquire f u n d a m e n t a l l y n e w habits, attitudes, or values in one m a j o r field of social activity find it necessary or desirable to c o n d u c t t h e m s e l v e s a c c o r d i n g to the s a m e or similar p r i n c i p l e s of behavior in the other fields. 2. (Dys)functional. Retention of f u n d a m e n t a l l y different cognitive and/or normative standards in d i f f e r e n t m a j o r fields of social activity w o u l d undermine the c o h e r e n c e of j u d g m e n t and response necessary to the viability of the society as a unit. 3. Institutional. All the v a r i o u s institutions of any society are so mutually interdependent or interlocking that c h a n g e is p e r f o r c e c u m u l a t i v e and selfreinforcing. (This might be characterized as the " d o m i n o theory" applied to sociopolitical change.) 4. Structural. S i g n i f i c a n t c h a n g e in o n e sphere of society a l w a y s p r o duces or supports persons h a v i n g vested interests in that c h a n g e w h o see to it that the c h a n g e is s e c u r e d t h r o u g h the d i s s e m i n a t i o n of its spirit to every other relevant social sphere. S u c h persons also see to it that their ranks are elevated and swelled at the e x p e n s e of persons with rival vested interests in the old order. N e w f u n c t i o n s require n e w roles and new role occupants.

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As the main object of this article is a disconfirming juxtaposition of empirical data derived from a single case with a universal claim, these propositions are suitably dealt with here in light of the relevant facts of the case. Thus, no additional effort will be made to consider as such their internal adequacy, except to suggest in passing that careful reflection on them individually or severally raises questions of tautological inference and necessary connection, as well as questions of sufficiency of empirical evidence. It is also very important to note that a common assumption that appears to underlie all these propositions is that in every society basic normative consensus is imperative. V

Signs have recently appeared of a trend away from the dichotomous doctrines of "modernization" analysis. Those who have, for varying reasons (and with varying emphasis and cogency) expressed dissatisfaction include Bendix, Black, Deutsch, Eisenstadt, Hoselitz, LaPalombara, Moore, Pye, Sanger, and Ward and Rustow. Others have come to ad hoc conclusions that are implicitly congenial to nondichotomous premises without formulating them as such, e.g., Levine, Friedland, and LeVine, all of whom, significantly, have been primarily concerned with African materials. 11 Of particular interest as an example in a non-African context is Lockwood's carefully unsanguine discussion of the relationship of democratic development and industrialization in the historic Japanese experience. 1 2 A limited selection of a few of the more explicit general statements made in recent works will again be sufficient for our purposes here:

N o society is wholly modern; all represent a mixture of modern and traditional elements. It has often been thought these elements stood in basic opposition to each other, and that there was implicit in the social process some force which would ultimately lead to the purgation of traditional "survivals," leaving as a residue the purely "modern" society. The preceding chapters amply document the falsity of such a thesis, at least where Japan is concerned, showing that the role of traditional attitudes and institutions in the m o d e r n i z a t i o n p r o c e s s h a s o f t e n b e e n s y m b i o t i c rather than antagonistic. . . We can, therefore, identify a quality of "reinforcing dualism" within at least s o m e modernizing experiences. (Ward and Rustow) 1 3 What w e are suggesting is that such distinctions as ascription-achievement or consanguine-conjugal, although usually depicted as mutually exclusive alternatives useful for characterizing differences between societies or groups, are more accurately v i e w e d as conflicting principles always present. (Moore)14 A third objection to the use of "modern" or "modernity" when dealing with problems of political systems is that the terms tend to suggest a single, f i n a l state o f a f f a i r s — a d e t e r m i n i s t i c , u n i l i n e a r t h e o r y of p o l i t i c a l evolution. . . . The very words "modern" or "modernity" imply a social Darwinian model of political development. T h e y suggest that change is

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inevitable, that it proceeds in clearly identifiable stages, that subsequent evolutionary stages are necessarily more complex than those which preceded them, and that later stages are better than their antecedents. What we need at this time are genuinely open models of political change that will permit us to identify the various ways in which many variables that bear on change are interrelated. . . . Systems may remain in a given stage for exceedingly long periods, and when change does occur it may not necessarily represent a step forward. Concern with the nature of change rather than with definition is likely to permit the development of a science of comparative politics. (LaPalombara)15 It may be noted that a common element in these statements is the separation of economic and political definitions of modernity, a separation that would be consistent with dysrhythmic premises. However, as might be expected in light of the depth, tenacity, and august auspices of the received concepts, the break with them has so far been halting, sketchy, and in some instances ambivalent. An example of the last difficulty is Pye, w h o having explicitly dissociated himself from the dichotomous analytic tradition then proceeds in its characteristic spirit to treat the case of his " t r a n s i t i o n a l " B u r m e s e bureaucrats strictly in pathological t e r m s . 1 6 Furthermore, he more recently has flatly restated the eurhythmic notion, while also suggesting, curiously, the displacement/rejection choice anew. 17 Another example of less than complete liberation is Ward and Rustow's summary discussion (quoted from above) of the Japanese and Turkish experiences, which surely suggest abandonment of the term and concept of modernization in favor of the far more open-minded idea of political change. Yet unlike LaPalombara they fail to make explicit this logical implication and indeed retain the old usage and, one suspects, to a certain degree at least the definitional concept. More disappointing, this still-fledgling revolt has yet to produce anything like a comprehensive and systematic examination of the issues inherent in the old tradition. Nor, to my knowledge, has an attempt been made to state explicitly and to sustain nondichotomous premises by a detailed analysis of any single empirical case, apart, if it may be demurred, from the present writer's as yet unpublished study. 18 Most important in terms of this particular article, the theoretical role of the eurhythmic process in dichotomous schemes of analysis of change is rarely identified or appreciated. The one possible exception that I know of is Wilbert E. Moore, whose conclusions on the general subject of "modernization" at times seem close to my own. Moore certainly seems to be questioning the eurhythmic idea in asking whether "standard components of cultures and societies" may sometimes be autonomous. If a condition of relative autonomy is possible, he asserts, then "change might occur without a kind of 'systemic resistance' deriving from interlocking patterns." He adds, interestingly, that "although this line of speculation runs contrary to the major current theoretical positions in anthropology and sociology, which emphasize

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and possibly exaggerate systemic relations, it is consistent with rather impressive historical experience." 1 9 Most serious of all, there remains a paucity of comparably developed alternative models, much less new propositions concerning specific conditions and consequences of different patterns of change. This objection should not be interpreted as a call for any immediate grand new theoretical "breakthrough" in this respect, however, for if the "modernization" model is as faulty as I believe it to be, the remedy probably lies partly in a far more substantial empirical grounding (including, especially, political history) for less grandiose generalizations about change, and this development obviously cannot take place overnight. Having expressed this reservation about hasty new departures, it is nevertheless appropriate for me simply to state, without elaborating the point here, that if the idea of a universal requisite of normative societal consensus is indeed essential to dichotomous analysis and is false, then the foundations for new theoretical perspectives may be abuilding. I have specific reference here to the concepts of social pluralism and the plural society, as exploratively formulated by Furnivall, Kuper, Smith, and Van den Berghe, whose studies challenge the premise of necessary normative consensus directly and explicitly. 2 0 With these observations set forth, we can turn to an account of certain concrete aspects of political change in Northern Nigeria as they relate to the proposition of eurhythmic process. The focus of this account is the impact on the local parliamentary structure of the political system of the traditional kingdoms or emirates of Northern Nigeria, as that Region of the Federal Republic of Nigeria existed up to January 1966. At that time an assassination plot, planned and led by a small group of southern Nigerian army officers, resulted in the deaths of, among others, Sir Ahmadu Bello, the Northern Region premier and Sardauna of Sokoto, and the prime minister of the Federal Republic, Alhaji Sir Abubakar Tafawa Balewa, who was also born and politically based in that Region. This development also brought about the abolition (whether temporary or permanent is not yet clear) of civilian parliamentary government in Nigeria generally, at the direction of a new military government that has described itself as interim. Of course it is too soon to determine the implications of these events for the future of the country, and apart from two passing comments, no discussion of the events is essential to the topic here. The first comment is that the immediate context of the assassination plot was political turmoil and crisis in a southern Nigerian Region, combined with issues of interregional relations and balance, not the internal affairs of the then substantially autonomous Northern Region. Secondly, so far as the rise of a military government did concern the political situation within the Northern Region, this was an indication of the strength and resilience of the largely ancien regime there, which as we shall see had shown no signs of either regression to untrammeled "traditionally" or spontaneous growth toward true "modernity."

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The discussion here proceeds with brief mention of salient features of the traditional system as it operated before and after the introduction of parliamentary f o r m s and of the circumstances and conditions accompanying their introduction, followed by a concise synopsis of some results of change which reflect our theme. VI

The traditional political system of the Hausa emirates, whose beginnings go back as far as the fifteenth century, retained its basic character throughout the colonial era, as M. G. S m i t h ' s study of one of these emirates clearly shows. 2 1 Thus, to a very large extent it is possible to speak of this system in continuous terms up to and including the period in which parliamentary institutions of the British type were superimposed on it. T h e m a j o r event of the p r e c o l o n i a l era w a s the jihad of 1 8 0 4 - 1 8 1 0 , which placed Fulani emirs on the thrones of most of the Hausa states, whose political (and religious) unity, with that of a few newly founded kingdoms, thereafter centered in the Fulani imperial seat at Sokoto, whence Usuman dan Fodio had first raised the call to conquer for the sake of local purification of Islam. The Fulani emirs, like the British colonial rulers after them, helped to assure political continuity by adapting to their own ends the main political characteristics, together with the administrative techniques and organization, of the local regimes before them. 2 2 (In the case of the British, it is now well known that their adaptations and adjustments were later rationalized, principally by Lord Lugard, into the n o w famous British colonial doctrine of indirect rule.) T h o u g h with respect to the structure and c o m p o s i t i o n of these regimes there are important variations, some of which historically, as today, have significant political implications and consequences, the major features they share amply justify their characterization as a system. In this s y s t e m , b o t h a d m i n i s t r a t i v e and p o l i t i c a l r e l a t i o n s , c l o s e l y entwined as these are, are centered in the emir, whose autocratic position was in practice limited originally only by recourse to extralegal sanctions, by natural exigencies, and by the dynamics and problems inherent in the nature of the system itself. Religious prescriptions politically applicable in principle have suffered f r o m the usual embarrassment of the classical Islamic states generally, and also, for that matter, of historic Christendom: lack of any independent machinery for enforcement and of " m e a n s of protecting against government reprisal" for would-be defenders of those prescriptions. 2 3 Indeed, to the H a u s a - F u l a n i political order, the principal impact of concern with the local (Maliki) version of the Islamic Shari'a, or divinely sanctioned law (at once temporal and spiritual), is the idea that disobedience to the emir or his representatives is an abnegation of faith. The dynamics and problems engendered by the system for all Northern

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Region emirate regimes have stemmed in very large part from corporate organization and cleavage within the royal dynasties and other hereditary lineages, both Fulani and non-Fulani. Many of these corporate subgroups have independent and collective claims to both central and local bureaucratic offices, territorial and functional. The balance, adjudication, maintenance, and pursuit of these rival corporate claims to office at all levels of the bureaucracy have always been the overwhelming political preoccupation of members of the ruling stratum. Strictly vicariously, they are the concern of the subjugated masses of politically nonparticipant commoners as well. This competitive feature includes the office of emir itself, succession to which is determined without benefit of primogeniture or any other automatic provision. Furthermore, Islamically sanctioned polygamy and concubinage plus cultural emphasis on maximum male progeny naturally proliferate the number of eligible persons for all hereditary offices, and this extends and intensifies the intramural competition. Severe personal tension is inherent in the system, for as Smith states about the Zaria emirate in 1950, "neither was administrative offence a sufficient ground for dismissal, nor administrative merit a sufficient ground for appointment. Political offence, defined by the system as attachment to the king's political rival, was the principal ground for dismissal; and political solidarity with the king and opposition to his rivals was the principal ground for appointment." 2 4 Apart from solidarity with superiors, the essential criterion of and precondition for success in this institutionalized system of competition, which in Hausa is called neman sarautu—the quest for o f f i c e s and the p r e s t i g i o u s f o r m a l titles that go a l o n g with them—was and is wealth and influence (largely purchased). The ubiquitous institution of neman sarautu is very greatly responsible for two ostensibly contrasting sets of qualities in the system as a whole: on the one hand, political and administrative insecurity, uncertainty, instability, arbitrariness, domination, dogmatism, coercion, and restrictiveness; on the other hand, competitiveness, flexibility, mobility, calculation, inventiveness, and secular devotion to whatever the requirements and rewards of power might be. These apparently "dual" syndromes are simultaneously endemic to this system, and their copresence suggests the profoundly misleading inadequacy here of a monochromatic categorization of "traditionality" as static, prescriptive, closed, and nonrational—notwithstanding the clear fact that the basis of authority and power in the system has always been fundamentally hereditary. In terms of the supposed dichotomous antinomies, the inextricably mixed qualities of this system are epitomized by the existence of high-office-holding slaves and small numbers of commoner client-retainers who enjoy official status. Thus, the very realities that render a hereditary emir insecure and repressive also sometimes induce him to extend his official patronage to persons, such as slaves, who because of hereditary ineligibility are powerless to threaten legitimately the position of the emir. As such, they are highly suitable agents of autocratic and deeply personalized government. The point

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here, of course, is not to obscure the emphasis of the system, the approximation of which to the dichotomous model of generic "traditionally" is in many respects real, but to indicate that its more "modernistic" characteristics are equally relevant and entrenched. Additional comment concerning the situation of the masses of commoners, or talakawa, is necessary here. As one government-sponsored report on the vast web of official gift-giving in cash and kind which goes hand in hand with neman sarautu concluded, "It is clear that in the ultimate analysis, the talakawa pay for everything." 2 5 Indeed, the late prime minister of Nigeria publicly pointed out in 1950 that "much of the attraction" of holding office and title in the traditional bureaucracy or "native administration" has been the "opportunities it offers for extortion of one form or another." 2 6 Thus, the great majority of the largely peasant masses are not only deprived of membership and participation in this traditional political system but are systematically exploited in its behalf as well. The one avenue of traditional political access available to individual commoners is clientage, a Hausa-Fulani institution that Smith defines as "an exclusive relation of mutual b e n e f i t which holds b e t w e e n two p e r s o n s defined as socially and politically unequal, which stresses their solidarity." 27 In other words, the commoner client-participant in this system is dependent for his position wholly upon the uncertain benevolence of his overlord. Elsewhere I have stated the general function and role of the institution as follows: "The crux of the clientage relationship is that patronage, economic security, and protection may be exchanged for personal loyalty and obedience. For the Habe (Hausa) talakawa, clientage represented the principal channel of upward mobility, toward and within the ruling circle. For those who remained outside that sphere, lesser forms of clientage relationships provided virtually the only defense against such eventualities as arbitrary taxlevies, injurious treatment in judicial proceedings, discrimination in allocation of farming land or in administration of public services, to mention only the most common perils." 2 8 One important final point here is that in the case of the large non-Muslim populations living under several emirate regimes, this general structure of political domination is reinforced and enhanced, in consequence of their status in the eyes of their Muslim rulers as legitimately outside the pale of any justice and security enjoined by the precepts of Islam. VII Whatever may be true elsewhere in Africa or even in Nigeria, the introduction in Northern Nigeria of a parliamentary structure of regional government by the British colonial authority was in essence a compromise between two not easily reconciled objectives: (1) to launch Nigeria as an independent and democratically governed national entity, and (2) to prevent abrupt discontinuity

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with British policy toward the emirate system which for half a century had been to preserve the Fulani regimes as instruments of law and order and as vehicles of controlled innovation along modern British social and political lines. For whatever the merits of the original policy might previously have been, once the decision was made to transfer power to Nigeria as a whole under democratic forms, the reality of past policy meant British fear that the existing foundations of social, economic, and political order and progress in the emirates would be shattered. Thus, the British perceived that their immediate responsibility in this area was to cushion the impact of change, and a British strategy of "guided democracy," as it were, therefore governed the terminal phase of colonial rule. It will be relevant and instructive to recount at this point some of the specific means through which the British contrived to manipulate change to serve the interests of continuity. The electoral rules initially used in the Northern Region employed the hierarchy of local councils, which were almost completely composed of dependent and loyal members and clients of the emirate bureaucracies, as electoral colleges. These indirectly yielded the membership of the Northern parliament, the House of Assembly, which in turn chose the Northern members of the central Nigerian legislature in Lagos. As extra safeguards, emirs were given the right simply to appoint directly ten percent of the membership of the penultimate colleges, and suffrage was limited to taxpayers. These arrangements, like others, were peculiar in Nigeria to the Northern Region. The transfer to elected Northern government ministers of executive authority over the functions of "their" ministries (and therefore of supervisory authority over many of the functions of the emirate bureaucracies) was delayed f i v e y e a r s b e y o n d the time of this devolution in the s o u t h e r n Nigerian regions. Indeed, for two years after the introduction of the nonexecutive ministers, conspicuously no minister for local government was appointed at all. At the appropriate time, British officials helped to design substitute devices for the above measures under a new Nigerian constitution. These measures included investment of power over all matters having to do with appointment, grading, and discipline of Northern chiefs (including emirs) in an autonomous, nonpopularly elected Council of Chiefs, the small permanent membership of which included the two most important emirs (Sokoto and Kano). A constitutional provision also gave to a House of Chiefs powers that in relation to the popularly elected chamber (the House of Assembly) were coordinate, indeed, technically supreme. 2 9 The ultimate power to make appointments to the higher levels of the local emirate bureaucracies legally rested with the regional government. Thus these local officials had the virtual status of civil servants. Yet, for purposes of regional and party political activity, these officials were defined as nongovernmental officials, free, under the British code of the nonpolitical civil service, to be elected to parliamentary seats, and to occupy them even while

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retaining local office in the traditional bureaucracies. The British also supported the insistence, on the part of the essentially ancien political regime thus shored-up with the above arrangements, that the existing territorial boundaries of the North remain intact under the federal constitution. The significance of this proviso was that those boundaries politically incorporated into this region non-Muslim peoples, amounting to at least a third of the total Northern population, w h o w e r e historically outside the boundaries of the Fulani E m p i r e . Their inclusion within these b o u n d a r i e s a l l o w e d the F u l a n i - d o m i n a t e d r e g i o n a l r e g i m e to d o m i n a t e the m i n o r i t y areas, where there w a s strong evidence of mounting secessionist sentiment. W h e n linked to the fact that this Northern unit as a whole contained more than fifty percent of the entire Nigerian population, the crucial contribution of the British to the policy of " O n e North" (and thus to the dominant political role later played by the Northern majority political party in the affairs of what became the Federal Republic of Nigeria) becomes obvious. All these constit u t i o n a l a n d p o l i t i c a l m a n i p u l a t i o n s a l s o h e l p e x p l a i n w h y , u n d e r the Republic, the local emirate regimes remained safe f r o m any unwelcome interference f r o m Lagos. The main point of this brief delineation of British policy in the terminal phase of colonialism is not that this policy alone was responsible for the actual results of political change in Northern Nigeria. On the contrary, a very good argument can be made out that those results would have occurred without British efforts. But British policy did help establish the most favorable conditions for a process that British officials in the North often approvingly called "continuity in change." A second, equally important, point here is that such compromise policies and constitutional devices m a d e it unnecessary for either the British or their successors to reject a parliamentary structure in order to foster continuity.

VIII The paragraphs to follow represent a c o m p e n d i u m of selected events, facts, and relationships that indicate dysrhythmic change, i.e., examples of change in one aspect or sphere in the direction of a pattern of " m o d e r n i t y " which either occasioned, in another aspect or sphere, change having the effect of sustaining or reinforcing a premodern institution or pattern of behavior, or caused no significant change, in Northern Nigeria in the period 1952-1966. (Identification by the reader of what are " m o d e r n " patterns, and f r o m the brief discussion of the emirate system above, what are " p r e m o d e r n " or "traditional" patterns, is assumed.)

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ASPECTS OF CHANGE AND CONTINUITY Institutional

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Social composition of the Northern parliament (House of Assembly). The decisive impact of traditional emirate status patterns on the composition of the Northern parliament (1956-1961) is reflected in data derived from a careful survey using face-to-face interviews and independent sources. Out of 103 members elected from constituencies situated in the emirates (the total of elected members was 131), 77, or 75 percent, belonged to the traditional ruling class, applying this term only to members whose fathers' status corresponded to one or more categories of membership in that class. Extending the definition to include those whose own office or title or marriage relationship placed them in one or more of these categories, the percentage of ruling-class members was 82 percent (84 members). Well over a third of the total emirate members were related to royal families and another fourth belonged to the hereditary nobility. Twenty-four percent of the group of 77 were sons of emirs. Out of the group of 77 belonging intergenerationally to the ruling class, 60 held traditional titles, or sarautu. The 1956-1961 House was elected on the basis of a mixed system of direct and indirect procedures (mostly the latter). All elected members of the 1961-1966 House were elected on the basis of direct procedures and adult male suffrage. In the expanded 1961-1966 House, 97 of 173 had not been members of the previous House. A spot check of just under half of the new members from emirate constituencies indicated that the percentage of (intergenerational) ruling-class members may have slightly increased, and most certainly did not decrease significantly. Northern People's Congress party structure. The Northern People's Congress (NPC) emerged after 1952 as a party commanding the support of the overwhelming majority of the Northern Nigerian electorate. It won by increasingly wide margins in the elections of 1954 (federal), 1956 (regional), 1961 (regional), and 1964 (federal). Prior to 1952, when parliamentary government was established, the NPC was controlled by a majority whose occupations, traditional social status, and political attitudes placed them outside the sphere of traditional elite membership and loyalty. It could be described as a party of "moderate radicals." 3 0 After 1952, control of the party passed to persons loyal to and dependent upon the emirate bureaucracies. An important impetus for this shift was the advantage to the party in having the apparatus of the traditional bureaucracy double as the organizational machinery for the party. Having gained control of the party, the new dominant faction voted in 1957 to "freeze" the slate of elected party officers, and no further voting was ever held. Indeed, after 1957, no open congresses of the party were held, all decision being taken by the parliamentary party in the name of the party as a whole.

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In 1952, the presidency of the party passed to Ahmadu Bello, Sardauna of Sokoto (a traditional title) and a member of the Sokoto Fulani imperial d y n a s t y ; f i r s t - r o u n d b a l l o t i n g had indicated a m a j o r i t y p r e f e r e n c e for Abubakar Tafawa Balewa, a commoner and an outspoken critic of traditional bureaucratic administration. The consideration leading to the second-ballot election of the Sardauna was the desire to secure the backing and influence of the emirs and their supporters. After 1952, N P C party nominations for parliamentary seats were monitored by and subject to the approval of the emir in whose domains constituencies were located. In effect, membership in the legislature became a sarauta in the patronage of the emir. 31 Majority-minority relations. Control of the regional legislature accomplished what historic Fulani ambitions had previously failed to achieve: extension of Fulani jurisdiction over unconquered tribes and enclaves (e.g., notably, the Tiv people). As elsewhere observed, "even such formerly independent Muhammedan Chiefdoms as Habe Abuja have been forced by this situation to follow the Fulani lead in order to avoid isolation." 32 The political solidarity of kingdoms that were historically and ethnically divided, i.e., Bornu and the Sokoto Empire as a whole, was stimulated by the need to mobilize support for the perpetuation of the ruling elites in the emirates against (1) radical, commoner-oriented opposition parties operating with the emirates (e.g., the Northern Elements' Progressive Union and the Bornu Youth M o v e m e n t ) , (2) opposition parties based in the minority areas or Northern " M i d d l e Belt" (e.g., the United Middle Belt Congress), and (3) nationalistic and radical socialist-oriented parties based in the southern regions of Nigeria, which were naturally attempting to gain support in both m a j o r i t y and m i n o r i t y areas of the N o r t h e r n R e g i o n . T h e roles of the Sardauna of Sokoto as the regional premier and of Shettima Kashim (previously Waziri or Vizier of Bornu) as (constitutional) governor of the Northern Region appropriately expressed this development. This solidarity, achieved "at the expense" of incorporating new non-Fulani elements into the dominant political structure, facilitated Fulani preponderance. Dual membership in the traditional bureaucratic structure and the parliamentary structure. Those who were simultaneously members of a modern legislature and o f f i c e - h o l d e r s in one of the traditional emirate bureaucracies enjoyed enormous and reciprocal advantages, both personal and political, over others. Salaries starting at £720 per annum (before a national "austerity" cut in 1961 the figure was £860) were often invested in the pursuit of promotion in the local bureaucracy, while chances of success in this, the ubiquitous traditional institution of neman sarautu, were enhanced considerably by command of the various resources that legislative membership provided. This relationship is reflected in the successful "dual" careers of numerous legislators.

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As ministerial office in the regional government required such officials to reside in Kaduna, the regional capital, ministers (unlike rank-and-file legislators) could not simultaneously hold bureaucratic office (though they usually retained the status of "on leave without pay"). They could, however, pursue higher title without office, and at least eight ministers succeeded in elevating their positions in this respect while in office. Even more significant, no fewer than ten Northern ministers of government (including here both regional and federal ministers) resigned office to accept prestigious posts in their local emirates after enjoying remunerative terms of office at Kaduna or Lagos. These reciprocal advantages had important implications for the balance between rival dynasties and lineages in the ruling hierarchies of the emirates. One implication was that a parliamentary contest involving members of such rival traditional corporate groups sometimes exacerbated those corporate cleavages and solidarities in the context of the local native administration. In several instances, dismissed local office-holders (members of rival dynasties or lineages) compensated for their loss of office by winning a parliamentary seat, thus recapturing status. Institutional

vs. Normative

Aspects

Secular promotion of Islam. In 1959, the Sardauna proclaimed in the Northern House of Assembly: "As long as [my] party, the NPC, is in power in the Region, it. . . [will] not legalize what God has forbidden." 3 3 This attitude was reflected in various ways in and through the new political institutions. Symbolically, the official motto of the Northern government was "Work and Worship"; green, the color of dan Fodio's flags of investiture of authority in the jihad, and strongly evocative generally of Islam, was the official color both of the government (e.g., it replaced "Westminster black" in the robes of the Speaker of the House of Assembly) and of the NPC, whose women supporters, especially, duly displayed it on all appropriate occasions. Conspicuously frequent trips to Mecca on pilgrimage (Islam requires only one) by the Sardauna and his prominent and favored colleagues in both regional government and native administration served to emphasize the role of the new political leaders as vehicles of the faith, as did a series of Muslim convocations convened by the Sardauna in Kaduna between 1960 and 1966. Under the Northern Nigerian Penal Code introduced in 1960, drunkenness is a criminal offense (Section 401), as is drinking of any amount of alcohol by a Muslim (Section 403—punishable by one month's imprisonment, five pounds, or both). Adultery is punishable by two years' imprisonment, a fine (maximum unspecified), or both. In homicide cases there has been an attempt to capture the spirit of the orthodox Islamic law of talion (Sections 393, 394). Several other provisions approximate authoritarian Islamic standards of relations between bureaucratic officials and the public (especially Sections 136, 137, 138, and 10). A persistent and highly inflammatory NPC campaign theme has been the

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duty of true Muslims to follow Muslim political leadership, or to reject, in other words, that of non-Muslim or "nonorthodox" southern Nigerians. In the cause of this NPC doctrine of religious obligation to follow its lead as the great protector of traditional authority, the conservative mallamai, or religious teachers, have been very active and most effective. Secular promotion of hereditary rule. Apart from the more or less spontaneous reinforcement of traditional norms implicit in the preceding sections on dual membership and secular promotion of Islam, the regional government sought to strengthen the position of the native administration structures in many ways. It vested them with legal authority and responsibility to maintain law and order generally, to regulate and determine issuance of permits for political party meetings, assemblies, and so on, and to serve as officials for the conduct of popular (parliamentary) elections. In the case of the larger emirates, it confirmed the judicial functions of (otherwise executive) emirs, extending in some cases to the power to try capital cases. It devolved much of the responsibility for the administration of public services onto native administrations, such that virtually every important government amenity in rural areas was distributed through these units. It utilized the local bureaucracies, as had the British, as tax-assessing and tax-collecting agencies. It made available to them considerable financial aid through grants, loans, and retention of tax revenues, and allotted them a significant role in capital or economicdevelopment projects and expenditures (by 1960 over ten percent of the total regional funds were so allocated). While the composition of the central executive councils of the emirates was generally liberalized to include representatives of nontraditional ruling elements, in the great emirates (especially Sokoto, Kano, Bornu, and Zaria) such reforms went no further than a shift from autocracy to oligarchy. Thus, measures strengthening "local government" in the North were in effect bolstering hereditary rule. Normative

vs. Structural

and Institutional

Aspects

NEPU's use of traditional influences in an effort to effect radical change. The objective of the opposition NEPU (Northern Elements' Progressive Union) was structural transformation, i.e., abolition of the traditional bureaucracies; secular government; popular participation in, and effective control of, governmental institutions, local and regional. Particularly after 1956, probably out of frustration at its failure otherwise to attract mass support, NEPU not only emphasized the traditional cleavages between talakawa and sarakuna (rulingclass members), but also utilized religious symbols and themes in its own appeals and propaganda to counter NPC strategy. It accepted dissident traditional elements into its fold and sought to exploit their residual prestige and influence, e.g., most revealingly in the 1959 federal election, when two of NEPU's candidates were deposed emirs seeking to recover lost glory. NEPU sought to take part to its own advantage. In sum, NEPU, which ostensibly

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represented a revolutionary political force working contrary to the traditional structure, in practice was to a significant extent obliged to rely tactically on "premodern" and to some degree "antimodern" tendencies. SPHERES OF CHANGE Economy

vs. Polity

The traditionally oriented regime working in the cause of economic development. T h e social and political characteristics of the parliamentary regime described above evidently were not deterrent to its serious pursuit of economic development, including industrial projects. A 1963 study conducted under the auspices of the Northern Ministry of Trade and Industries, with the cooperation of British industrial consultant firms, boasted findings as follows: "Factories built in Northern Nigeria during the period 1960-63 produce a variety of products and the total investment in industrial d e v e l o p m e n t in this short time approximates £ 2 0 , 0 0 0 , 0 0 0 of which about £5,000,000 is f r o m Northern Nigerian sources." And, "Within the Federal national i n c o m e growth Northern Nigeria has shown the most rapid growth. From 1950 to 1957 the national income of the North increased more than twice as fast as that of either of the other two Regions. Since 1957, Northern Nigeria has at least maintained her share of the Federal total so that by 1960 her national income had risen to a total of about 560 million, at 1960 prices—an increase of 68 percent over the decade compared with 47 percent increase in Federal national income." 3 4 Admittedly, s o m e of the impressiveness of these figures results in part from the relatively backward base f r o m which the North began its growth compared with that of the south, but the figures do indicate that the regime neither was indifferent to nor did it seek to inhibit economic development. In fact, the regime assiduously sought to publicize the advantages offered by a "disciplined" society for purposes of economic growth. 3 5 Economic development in the service of traditional interests. A s in the other regions of N i g e r i a , g o v e r n m e n t - c r e a t e d and g o v e r n m e n t - c o n t r o l l e d marketing boards in the Northern Region purchased the main export crops from producers at fixed prices for sale abroad, the difference between prices paid to the producer and received f r o m abroad yielding a surplus. These surpluses were used to fund statutory development corporations, which undertook projects aimed at development and, through subsidiary loan boards and finance corporations, made loans and grants to local government authorities, private firms, and individuals. A s might be expected, high-status persons in traditional roles w h o benefited through participation, indirect or direct, in such projects and new enterprises were numerous. Suffice it to say that like the perquisites of parliamentary membership, wealth generated through the

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process of economic development was also available for "reinvestment" in traditional institutions and structures. Moreover, it was hardly a secret that private foreign firms, confronted with the copious legal and practical powers at the disposal of native administrations, found it convenient to grant to the more influential local officials substantial favors. Education vs. Polity Achievement sustains ascription. Striking as the hereditary origins of the Northern parliamentarians are, the fact is, too, that they constituted an elite in terms of Western education as well. My survey of the 1956-1961 members showed that in a general population of which less than two percent were literate, these parliamentarians enjoyed an average of 7.5 years of formal, Western-type schooling. The average for Northern ministers (regional and federal combined) was 10.6 years. The relatively high modern educational attainments of this traditional elite group were directly attributable to the initial British view that, as one governor put it, "If indirect rule is to be truly tribal [in Northern Nigeria], we must educate from the top down, and not as in Southern Nigeria from the bottom upwards." 36 Although the percentage of children at school in Northern Nigeria doubled between 1959 and 1965, the percentage in 1965 was still strikingly low in the great emirates (e.g., Kano, 4.9 percent, Bornu, 4.1 percent, Sokoto, 3.2 percent), suggesting that, despite the fact that Western education is officially now open to all, its result in those areas continues to be that it further sets the established ruling classes apart from the ordinary masses of subjects. CONCLUSION

It will be noted that the illustrations above omit explicit consideration of important combinations of variables. One of these, the spheres of polity and cult, was left out because it seems unnecessary to elaborate the obvious lack of parallel between how they are thought to have been related in the historic Western experiences of change and how they have interacted in the Northern Nigerian situation. Clearly, that situation has not conformed to any model of political change involving a shift from sacred to secular political institutions and values. Lack of hard data dictated no special attention to the relationship of psychological to other aspects of change, though here, too, it seems an obvious inference that psychic stress has hardly characterized the condition of those called upon to play dual roles. More generally, it might be noted that the illustrations tend to stress simple continuity at the expense of the occurrence of change short of the model of "modernity," though again this latter result represents merely an implicit variation on the theme of what is presented. In any case, the illustrations seem quite sufficient to indicate the unacceptability, so far as the Northern Nigerian experience is concerned, of the proposition that "once the penetration (of modern patterns) has begun, the

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previous indigenous patterns always change; and they always change in the direction of s o m e of the patterns of the relatively modernized society." 3 7 Three likely objections to this attempted disconfirmation may be anticipated. One is that the patterns involved were not "truly" or sufficiently modern to provide a fair case; the second is that there was not enough time (fourteen years) for an inherent eurhythmic process to unfold; the third is that the Northern Nigerian experience in this period was unique. To the first and second objections, there are essentially two pertinent rejoinders. One, if certain quantitative degrees or levels of "modernity" are necessary to the eurhythmic hypothesis, then this quantification must be incorporated in it, which evidently has not heretofore been done. Indeed, we have been encouraged to believe that the process will obtain under virtually any magnitude of stimulus. The same point holds true for the matter of time span: the operative amount will have to be included in the proposition. Secondly, even if an operative time span is indicated and such elusive qualities as "achievement," "universalism," and "specificity" were quantifiable for operational purposes, significant phenomena resulting from " l o w " or "subthreshold" conditions must nevertheless be taken into account in any valid general theory of the process of change. A s for the third objection, it may be suggested, apart from the fact that a single counter-instance is sufficient to disconfirm the hypothesis as presently stated, that any apparent " u n i q u e n e s s " of the Northern Nigerian case may well be an effect of the prevalence of the hypothesis rather than a sign of its general validity. In the absence of a revised formulation of the hypothesis of eurhythmic process, three general counterpropositions to the present version seem to be suggested by this discussion of the Northern Nigerian case: 1. Significant change in one important sphere or aspect of social activity may ramify in other aspects or spheres; however, such ramifications are not always consonant with the character and direction of the initial change. 2. Change may offer novel opportunities for those adversely subjected to that change to d e f e n d , recoup, reaffirm, augment, or facilitate antecedent activity or value, notwithstanding that such activity or value is manifestly or latently inconsistent with the character and direction of the initial change. 3. Subjected to potentially transformative political change, a society previously characterized by political domination presents special opportunities for "manipulative r e s p o n s e " that limits the impact of that change. None of the fine points of this analysis should be allowed to obscure the deeper general s i g n i f i c a n c e of the Northern Nigerian case, however. The analysis reveals that the general factors (as outlined in Section IV) which allegedly contribute to a necessary eurhythmic process of change are at best special occurrences. We have seen, moreover, how a "traditional" system may include important features that are as close to the modern model as to

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the traditional one, and h o w agents of "modernity" may simultaneously act in d e f e n s e o f "tradition." Furthermore, m a n y o f the p o i n t s o f c o n v e r g e n c e between "traditional" and "modern" elements in the Northern Nigerian case s e e m highly functional and systematically viable. T h e y point to the possibility of those very s y m b i o t i c combinations o f qualities w h i c h d i c h o t o m o u s and eurhythmic c o n c e p t i o n s w o u l d preclude. A s a generai proposition, in other words, analytically or normatively antithetical social elements may in actuality be quite compatible under certain conditions. If so, the occurrence of a dysrhythmic process of change, as described in this article, ultimately indicates the need for hypotheses about political change which are at o n c e more limited and more inclusive than the concept of modernization allows.

NOTES 1. It is obvious that modifiers which indicate relative contrasts of the so-called mini-max variety must imply mutual exclusivity no less than absolute differences. Thus, if the proposition is that a given sociai quality necessarily conflicts with another to any degree, then maximization of both qualities in the same context is precluded. To that extent, in other words, they are mutually exclusive. Statements in connection with the use of the supposedly heuristic concepts "traditional" and "modern" typically suggest that "most people" in the one type of society behave one way with respect to certain values or activities, or that each type of society behaves as a whole in a certain way in "most instances." Indeed to claim that qualities associated with the terms "traditional" and "modern" do not diverge significantly would be to nullify the supposed significance of the terms, namely, that they identify distinguishable classes of societies. Concerning the logical status of the Weberian "ideal-type" formulations and similar constructs, the philosopher of science C. G. Hempel demonstrated some time ago that any distinction between this sort of mental operation and a hypothesis in the strict sense is simply spurious. See American Philosophical Association (Eastern Division), Science, Language and Human Rights; Symposium: Problems of Concept and Theory Formulation in the Social Sciences (Philadelphia 1952), 71-134. 2. It is important to note that the terms "eurhythmic" and "dysrhythmic" are not synonymous with "smooth" and "rough" or "peaceful" and "violent." In the present discussion, "eurhythmic" (consistent and supportive) change means further change toward the characteristics of the society from which the original change derived. Conceivably, both eurhythmic and dysrhythmic processes could be either smooth or rough, peaceful or violent. However, if a eurhythmic process involves the interaction of mutually exclusive qualities, then rough or violent change seems indicated. Thus it is that a combination of dichotomous and eurhythmic conceptualizations of phenomena of change have typically produced pathological characterizations of a supposed "transitional" or intermediate phase. Use of the very term "transitional" as a general category connotes unilinear direction, i.e., from one known type or class of society to another already defined one. 3. In Bert F. Hoselitz, ed., The Progress of Underdeveloped Areas (Chicago 1952), 113-125. 4. "Patterns (Structures) of Modernization and Political Development," Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, 358 (March 1965), 29-40. The quotation is from p. 30; the emphasis is mine. Levy's views are most recently elaborated in his Modernization and the Structure of Societies, 2 vols. (Princeton 1966).

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5. Cf. Karl A. Wittfogel, Oriental Despotism (New Haven and London 1957), 420-421; and Eric Hoffer, The Ordeal of Change (New York 1964), 25-26. 6. Max F. Millikan and Donald L. M. Blackmer, The Emerging Nations (Boston 1961), 44. 7. Everett E. Hagen, On the Theory of Social Change (Homewood 1962), 26. 8. Fred W. Riggs, "Agraria and Industria," in W. J. Siffin (ed.), Toward the Comparative Study of Public Administration (Bloomington 1957), 103-104. 9. Administration in Developing Countries: The Theory of Prismatic Society (Boston 1964), 47. 10. Amitai Etzioni and Eva Etzioni, Social Change (New York 1964), 403. 11. Donald N. Levine, "Ethiopia: Identity, Authority, and Realism," in Lucian W. Pye and Sidney Verba (eds.), Political Culture and Political Development (Princeton 1965), esp. 2 7 0 - 2 7 1 . L e v i n e ' s full-scale treatment of Ethiopia is Wax and Gold (Chicago 1965). William H. Friedland, "Some Sources of Traditionalism A m o n g Modern African Elites," reprinted in William H. Hanna (ed.), Independent Black Africa: The Politics of Freedom (Chicago 1964), 3 6 3 - 3 6 9 . Robert A. Le Vine, "Political Socialization and Culture Change," in Clifford Geertz (ed.), Old Societies and New States (Glencoe 1963), 280-303. 12. William W. Lockwood, "Economic and Political Modernization: Japan," in Robert E. Ward and Dankward A. Rustow (eds.), Political Modernization in Japan and Turkey (Princeton 1964), 117-145. 13. Ibid., 444-445. 14. Wilbert E. Moore, Social Change (Englewood Cliffs 1963), 67. 15. Joseph LaPalombara, ed., Bureaucracy and Political Development (Princeton 1963), 38-39, emphasis mine. 16. Lucian W. Pye, Politics, Personality and Nation Building (New Haven and London 1962). 17. "The Concept of Political Development," Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, 358 (March 1965), 1-13. Pye states, "The politics of historic empires, of tribe and ethnic community, or of colony must give way to the politics necessary to produce an effective nation-state which can operate successfully in a system of other nation-states" (p. 7). "Although to a limited extent the political sphere may be autonomous from the rest of society, for sustained political development to take place it can only be within the context of a multidimensional process of social change in which no segment or dimension of the society can long lag behind" (p. 11). 18. C. S. Whitaker, "The Politics of Tradition: A Study of Continuity and Change in Northern Nigeria," unpubl. diss., Princeton, 1964. 19. Social Change, 75. See also Moore's The Impact of Industry (Englewood Cliffs 1965). 20. J. S. Furnivall, "Some Problems of Tropical Economy," in Rita Hinden, ed., Fabian Colonial Essays (London 1945), and Colonial Policy and Practice (London 1948). Leo Kuper, An African Bourgeoisie: Race, Class, and Politics in South Africa (New Haven, 1965) and "Plural Societies—Perspectives and Problems" (forthcoming). M. G. Smith, who combines expertise in African and West Indian studies, has written a critical statement of his position on the premise of necessary societal consensus in the preface to his collection of essays The Plural Society in the British West Indies (Berkeley and Los A n g e l e s 1965), 7 - 1 7 . Also see his "Institutional and Political Conditions of Pluralism" and "Pluralism in Pre-Colonial African Societies" (forthcoming). Pierre L. Van den Berghe, Africa: Social Problems of Change and Conflict (San F r a n c i s c o 1965), and " P l u r a l i s m and the P o l i t y — A T h e o r e t i c a l Exploration" (forthcoming). These forthcoming papers will appear in a volume edited

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by Leo Kuper and M. G. Smith; they were produced for the 1965-66 Colloquium in African Studies, University of California, Los Angeles. 21. Government in Zazzau (Oxford 1960). 22. See Smith, " H i s t o r i c a l and Cultural C o n d i t i o n s of Political C o r r u p t i o n A m o n g the H a u s a , " Comparative Studies in Society and History, 6 ( 1 9 6 3 - 6 4 ) , 164-194. 23. See Chapter 5 this book, p. 94. 24. Government in Zazzau, 106. 25. Report on the Exchange of Customary Gifts (Kaduna 1954), 6. 26. Northern Nigeria, Regional Council Debates, August 19, 1950 (Kaduna 1950). 27. Government in Zazzau, 8. 28. "The Politics of Tradition," 447. 29. See R. L. Sklar and C. S. Whitaker, "The Federal Republic of Nigeria," in Gwendolen M. Carter (ed.), National Unity and Regionalism in Eight African States (Ithaca 1966), 59. 30. P. C. Lloyd, "Traditional Rulers," in James S. Coleman and Carl G. Rösberg, Jr. (eds.), Political Parties and National Integration in Tropical Africa (Berkeley and Los Angeles 1964), 400. 31. See Chapter 3 this book p. 33. 32. Smith, Government in Zazzau, 250. 33. Daily Times of Nigeria, September 3, 1959, 3. 34. N o r t h e r n N i g e r i a , M i n i s t r y of T r a d e and I n d u s t r i e s , The Industrial Potentialities of Northern Nigeria (Kaduna 1963), 13, 16. 35. Ibid., 30; also see Provincial Annual Reports (Kaduna 1953-64), passim. 36. Whitaker, "The Politics of Tradition," 408. 37. Levy, cited n. 4.

Political Science and National Integration: A Radical Approach Richard L. Sklar

Certain historians are inclined to view the political awakening of Asia and Africa as part of an ongoing, world-wide, social revolution, previously inaugurated in Europe and America. In that perspective, colonial nationalism and its aftermath appear to involve primarily another "revolt of the masses," another rising of the "great unwashed," another "search for status" by the lower classes of the world. 1 The idea of a universal revolutionary trend is mainly derived from the doctrine of progress. Those who entertain that optimistic view of history also tend to believe in the inevitability of emancipation through social conflict. Frankly, that is my personal predisposition. In broad outline, the revolt against colonial and semi-colonial domination does appear to validate a doctrinaire conception of the stages of emancipation. First of all, there is a struggle against alien and racial domination. Typically, leadership of the national independence movement is assumed by a national bourgeoisie, which proceeds to exploit its newly acquired political power to its own advantage. Then class divisions within the new nation are nakedly exposed, leading to class conflict and, in time, to the reconstruction of society. An objective appraisal of the post-colonial world will reveal at least one flaw in this sanguine prognosis that is fully appreciated by realistic observers. Mass movements in most of the new nations do not commonly follow the lines of class division. The major forms of mass action in the "developing" countries of Africa and Asia are communal, tribal, and religious movements that conform to vertical social divisions between historic "peoples," religious communities, and cultural nationality groups. 2 In short, the classic social revolution is likely to be intercepted and diverted off course by powerful forces that cast doubt on the inevitability of social progress. Realistically, political scientists have tried to comprehend the twin issues of social deprivation and parochial separatism together. T h e concept of national integration has been defined to satisfy that need. 3 But the twin issues are none the less difficult to relate with theoretical precision, and the elusive linkages between class action and cultural nationalism in particular continue Originally published in Journal of Modern African Studies 5, 1 (1967), 1-11. Reprinted by permission of the author and Cambridge University Press.

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to pose m a j o r problems of social theory. O n e analytic response is to minimize the importance of class action and focus upon the mediation of inter-community relations by various functional elites, such as teachers, civil servants, politicians, soldiers, and communications specialists. That approach is widely favored by political scientists today. Its value will be questioned in this article, which advocates an alternative approach in terms of class analysis. I shall try to show the relevance of class analysis to the search for solutions to great issues of national integration in Africa. NATION BUILDING Insofar as national integration contemplates the creation of higher loyalties that supersede parochial loyalties to subnational communities, tribes, language groups, or regions, it is a universally acclaimed goal of the African renaissance. Even the most fervent advocates of pan-African unity accept national integration as a necessary and positive step towards ever-widening spheres of integration on the African continent. On the other hand, national integration has also been interpreted to contemplate the establishment of durable national sovereignties at the expense of wider regional or continental unities. Need we remark that the uses of significant ideas vary with the values of those w h o use them? In this case, thinkers and scholars w h o value order and stability above all are apt to concentrate on the need to create viable authorities in the existing nation-states. It may not matter much to them if the nations concerned, acting individually or collectively, are c a p a b l e of e x e r t i n g only m i n i m a l influence in world politics. Indeed, a conservative value orientation may actually favor the perpetuation of existing patterns of statehood and, logically, the present balance of power in the world. These observations may point to a hidden difference of meaning between two related t e r m s that have been used interchangeably, namely, "national i n t e g r a t i o n " and " n a t i o n b u i l d i n g . " T h e f o r m e r is an e x p a n s i v e c o n c e p t , implying the creation of durable bonds of unity within a state that are not, however, detrimental to p a n - A f r i c a n or other regional unities. 4 T h e latter term, "nation b u i l d i n g , " m a y m a k e a fetish of national sovereignty to the detriment of supranational integration. Authors w h o have used this concept without prejudice to the goal of international political unity may object that it need not be interpreted so narrowly, and their objection should be respected, so long as the divergence of thought on an important issue is recognized. A s a rule, the value orientations of scholars affect their use of ideas indirectly through the m e d i u m of their methodological approaches. At present, the most influential approach to the study of political development is probably structural-functional analysis. That approach, inspired by the sociology of Talcott Parsons, teaches that in any social system, or sub-system thereof, for example a political system, certain crucial functions must be performed for

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the system to survive. Structural-functional analysis is ideally conceived to foster the c o m p a r a t i v e m e t h o d of study. It requires the formulation of f u n c tional categories that lead to the discovery of functional equivalents b e t w e e n societies that differ institutionally. T h e functionally equivalent structures of diverse societies can then be c o m p a r e d on the basis of their relative efficiencies in the p e r f o r m a n c e of various functions. 5 It has been alleged that structural-functional analysis has a built-in conservative bias because of its f o c u s on the conditions required to perpetuate the system under examination. T h i s criticism should b e distinguished f r o m another, less t e n a b l e o b j e c t i o n , to the e f f e c t that t h e s t r u c t u r a l - f u n c t i o n a l a p p r o a c h is p o o r l y d e s i g n e d f o r c o p i n g w i t h p r o b l e m s of social c h a n g e . Recently, it has been demonstrated that structural-functional analysis is eminently well suited to the study of social change, including national integration in the developing areas. 6 N o r does that approach appear to rule out on logical g r o u n d s the adoption of " r a d i c a l " analyses w h i c h e m p h a s i z e the revolutionary possibilities of change. But its tendency to a s s u m e the survival of w h a t e v er system is being studied does load the ideological dice on the conservative side. Too often w e fail to appreciate that the adoption of a particular m o d e of social analysis implies s o m e acceptance of the ideology that lies behind it. In t o d a y ' s A f r i c a , an u n d u e e m p h a s i s on the existing state system is likely to p r o m o t e a conservative outlook that cannot easily a c c o m m o d a t e the radical values of liberation, e c o n o m i c f r e e d o m , and continental unity. Functional a p p r o a c h e s to the analysis of political development rely heavily upon the invention of categories for the p u r p o s e of classification. Familiar e x a m p l e s drawn f r o m recent w o r k on political parties include the "ideological party," the "party of integration," and the "party of solidarity." Such categories, based on functional criteria, are used to predict the probable effects of various party-types upon the s y s t e m s within which they function. Categories relating to other institutions, such as " m o d e r n i z i n g bureaucracy," and w h o l e system categories, such as "tutelary democracy," have also been conceived. T h e s e m a y have great analytic value. At the s a m e time, as these e x a m p l e s suggest, there is a p r o n o u n c e d tendency in functional analysis to extend the method of classification into the treacherous realm of prediction, and to j u d g e institutions on the basis of their p r e s u m e d probable consequences. T h e f o c u s of concern shifts away f r o m w h a t an institution or system is, away f r o m what it does today, to the p r e s u m e d result of its p e r f o r m a n c e . Critical j u d g m e n t s of the effect of a system on the present generation m a y then b e suspended in d e f e r e n c e to w h a t it may b e expected to p r o d u c e s o m e t i m e in the future. In t h i s r e s p e c t , f u n c t i o n a l a n a l y s i s t e n d s to s h a r e t h e m o r a l a p p r o a c h of M a r x i s m and other f o r m s of historicism which justify t o d a y ' s evil as the price that m u s t b e paid for t o m o r r o w ' s g o o d . 7 At the very least, it can be said that functionalist thought in political science is not normally associated w i t h social criticism and p o s e s little threat of exposure to those w h o control the institutions of national power. It might also

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be remarked that the " n e w school" of political science in America, now so influential the world over, has, for all its scientific refinement, largely failed to grapple with the deepening social and political problems of American society. Is that approach now destined for adoption by political scientists in the newly developing countries?

CLASS ANALYSIS Studies of political development that do not adopt structural-functional or systems analysis are likely to focus upon the actions of social groups or classes. One school of thought, influential in the study of American politics, has found that social equilibrium is the result of competition between groups for economic and political goods. Other "conflict" theories, inspired by the work of Georg Simmel, have the same general import. 8 Marxian thought suggests an approach in terms of class action, including the dynamics of class formation. The present writer prefers that approach to others. 9 In the absence of a "system" orientation, functional explanations of political behavior may be less rewarding than other types. In particular, causal and "genetic" or historical explanations come to the fore. 1 0 The logic of a causal approach that also emphasizes class analysis is not by any means intrinsically superior to that of a functional approach that emphasizes systems analysis. Many factors affect one's choice of an approach; they include one's value orientation, training, and perceptions of disciplinary goals, among other things. In what follows, an attempt will be made to indicate briefly the relevance of class analysis to some problems of national integration. Tribalism is widely supposed to be the most formidable barrier to national unity in A f r i c a . Nearly every African state has at least one serious problem of ethnic or regional separatism. It is less frequently recognized that tribal movements may be created and instigated to action by the new men of power in furtherance of their own special interests which are, time and again, the constitutive interests of emerging social classes. Tribalism then becomes a mask for class privilege. To borrow a worn metaphor, there is often a non-traditional w o l f under the tribal sheepskin. Nigeria affords an illuminating example. The major nationalist parties in that country served to promote both the selfish and patriotic ends of the Nigerian bourgeoisie. Each party secured its power in a region of the country by appealing to ethnic sensibilities, among other means. Under a federal system of government, each party w a s able to consolidate its power by exploiting regional government resources. Privileged class interests, entrenched in the regions, have been opposed to any fundamental transformation of the regional power system. Time and again, they have been willing to perpetrate electoral fraud at the risk of violence and secession in order to prevent radical political changes. Tribalism has been their most trustworthy weapon against change.

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An analysis along these lines does not underestimate the intensity of tribal conflict. It does suggest that tribalism should be viewed as a dependent variable rather than a primordial political force in the new nation. Political tensions in Nigeria, as in other African states, have not been purely tribal. They involve the penetration of tribal elements by other social forces, as, for example, in cases of conflict between groups of settlers and sons of the soil in urban areas. Jealousies excited when industrious settlers appear to monopolize jobs and commercial opportunities in a poor section of the country are especially inflammable when political tension is high. In all under-developed countries, where the traumas of secularization are strong, the potential for violence is great. In Africa, violent passions flow easily into tribalistic channels. It is not very meaningful to say that a particular nation has been disrupted by tribalism. Political science should seek deeper to find the root causes of tension and violence. For example, why did Northern Nigerians recently commit acts of violence against Eastern Nigerian Ibos who had lived among them for many years? Some reports indicate that the massacres may have been instigated by politically motivated conspirators. Others indicate that many acts of violence were spontaneous. Certainly, Ibos in the Northern Region have been resented by the local people for their industrious qualities, economic habits, and relative success in life. Such resentment is not uncommon among under-privileged people. Men rarely blame themselves for their shortcomings and failures in life; more rarely still do they attack the dominant institutions of society. On the other hand, it is relatively easy to displace blame and aggression against a vulnerable minority group. Tribal persecution, like other forms of aggressive behavior, often results from frustration and a state of mind that is accurately described as self-hatred. The causes of tribal violence in Africa, like those of mob violence elsewhere, might be traced to the prevailing conditions of poverty, insecurity, and the lack of opportunity for satisfying employment. By and large, journalists who write about these melancholy events are content to cry "tribalism"; 1 1 and the opinions of journalists weigh heavily on the student of contemporary history. It takes intellectual courage and a measure of theoretical conviction to resist them. The tyranny of day-by-dayism (or journalistic scholarship) is not less stultifying to political science than the older Africanist tyranny of administrative scholarship. D e f e r e n c e to the stereotypes of the mass media can be as short-sighted today as deference to the biases of colonial administrators has been in the past. A second problem area in which class analysis may be useful has to do with the frequent assumption of political power by military officers and civil servants. In Africa today, the new ruling classes are based on power, wealth, and opportunity for personal achievement. The criteria of inclusion are highstatus occupation, high income, control of wealth-producing enterprises, and superior education. An approach in terms of class analysis does not necessarily imply the existence of major class conflict. Class formation would appear

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to be more significant than class conflict as a form of class action in contemporary A f r i c a . Intra-class conflict is supremely important. It occurs in a form that has been imperfectly described b y many students as generational conflict. T h e explanation, simply, is that most of the incumbent political leaders b e l o n g to the nationalist generation that led the independence m o v e m e n t , while most of the younger civil servants and junior army officers belong to a more sophisticated d e v e l o p m e n t generation. Frequently, the y o u n g e r men have little real or personal k n o w l e d g e of the c o m p l e x i t i e s of the f r e e d o m movement, less respect for the abilities of their seniors, and no tolerance at all for their technical and other foibles. In many new states, bureaucrats and military o f f i c e r s have conspired to seize power. Sometimes this is done under the misleading banner of revolutionary class struggle. Class analysis will indicate that such a claim is rarely, if ever, true. A l l that has happened is the overthrow of one section of the ruling class b y a s o m e w h a t younger, more efficient, and possibly more idealistic section, a c o m m o n p l a c e in history. N o one should expect a social revolution to ensue. W h e r e in the Third World have such technocrats ever shown an ability to reconstruct their societies? If anything, they tend to be further removed from populist and revolutionary v a l u e s than their predecessors of the freedom generation. T h e y c o m m i t g r o s s political errors, b e c o m e d e m o r a l i z e d , fall to fighting a m o n g themselves, and allow the old vices of their class to revive. Class analysis might reveal the inherent limitations of the technocratic intelligentsia and spot-light the necessity to combat its anti-democratic tendency towards social exclusiveness. It might also be seen that the coup d'état

is no

substitute for serious efforts to resolve fundamental political problems. Finally, class analysis m a y expose bogus claims that are made in support of manyone-party states. O f t e n , one-party states i n developing countries are justified by their leaders and supporters as being workers' and peasants' dictatorships, d i c t a t o r s h i p s of the w h o l e p e o p l e , or w o r k e r s ' and p e a s a n t s ' democracies. Alternatively, they have been condoned on functional grounds in v i e w of their assumed p r o b a b l e contributions to national d e v e l o p m e n t , irrespective of the current costs they are k n o w n to exact in liberty and democracy. T h e s e arguments have been challenged by the late Frantz Fanon, w h o has alleged that most of the A f r i c a n one-party states are, in fact, crass bourgeois dictatorships that actually retard national development. 1 2 General statements of this kind have their prudent exceptions. But it is beyond dispute that in certain one-party states the political leadership is accurately described as the core element of a privileged class that profits from its monopoly of power at the expense of the people. One-party states may, of course, be so organized that they do really serve the needs of the people in a developing country. T o o often, however, the one-party regime shields an incumbent leadership f r o m justifiable criticism of its conduct. Political scientists should not have to rely upon the genius of perceptive non-political scientists, like Fanon, to describe the realities that lie behind those deceptive facades.

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THE CRITICAL SPIRIT I have criticized the "functional" approach to political development on two related grounds. First, its tendency to foster a conservative value orientation by virtue of its focus upon the requirements of existing state and social systems. I do not mean to push this criticism too far. An individual follower of the functional school may not have any personal commitment to the system under examination. One may choose to adopt a "systems" approach on purely scientific grounds, for example: to determine precisely the functional properties of institutions, to facilitate comparative analysis, to promote theoretical knowledge in this direction, and so on. Nonetheless, we should be aware of the argument that some important questions of radical import are likely to escape due notice by the functional school. If we think that social and political problems today cry out for radical solutions, we may prefer a school of analysis that is geared to the study of social conflict and deprivation. 1 have entered a claim for class analysis. The types of explanation normally associated with it and other forms of "conflict theory" are no less scientific in nature than functional approaches. In any case, the logical and typological virtues for which the functional approach is justly renowned may have little relation to current human needs. For that reason, "systems analysis" in political science may truly deserve to be known as "the new scholasticism." 1 3 My second objection to the functional school is its tendency to shy away from all normative criticisms of existing institutions. If certain practices are deemed to be "functional" in regard to the maintenance of a system, the human costs of such practices in liberty or happiness may be overlooked or countenanced as being somehow necessary. For that reason, I have suggested that the moral implications of functional analysis are similar to those of historicism, which holds that since certain developments are inevitable, the means chosen to accomplish them cannot be condemned on purely ethical grounds. Thus, I have advocated an approach to political analysis which may be termed Marxian (if only for lack of a better shorthand expression), but I have rejected the historicist approach to ethical theory, of which Marxism is one example. In fact, there are two different ethical traditions in Marxian thought—the historicist and the humanist. 14 The former has been used to justify tyrannies for the sake of assumed progress. The latter tends in the opposite direction to engender searchingly critical appraisals of institutions from the standpoint of their present effects on human beings. Traditionally, political science has fostered a similarly critical outlook on government. Traditional political science is truly and honorably described as a "muck-raking" discipline. For political science to abdicate its critical function in a fit of systemoriented, nation-building zeal would be a tragedy for both the discipline and the public interest. In the new nations the need for critical perspectives on existing institutions is no less desperate than in older states. Critical scholarship might well

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contribute substantially to the causes of national and regional integration. For example, most new nations are dependent upon the western industrial powers for the basic ingredients of their national development programs. The forms of such dependence are multiple: technical, financial, commercial, intellectual, and military. A functional approach to national integration, focusing upon the particular nation-state as a system-in-being, tends to point up the beneficial effects of such dependence upon that system's development. By contrast, a class analysis is more likely to show relationships between the rulers of the new nation and their foreign patrons. Clearly, the existing patterns of external dependence influence the patterns of social and political development in new nations. It has also been suggested that economic dependence upon western capitalism will actually hinder the development and disrupt the integration of under-developed countries by "integrating" important sectors of their economic and social structures with the dominant, foreign-based, socio-economic system. 1 5 That and similar hypotheses deserve careful consideration. Even the problems of tribalism in Africa may be related to the forms of external dependence. In his memoir of the Katanga rebellion, Conor Cruise O'Brien remarks on the curious fact that the Baluba of the Kasai abandoned secession and made peace with the Lulua people when American policy came down decisively in favor of a unified Congo. This happened, he notes, after the Kennedy administration took office. O'Brien speculates that Baluba attitudes might have been influenced by American companies that have mining interests in the Kasai. He quips that it may be a traditional custom of the Kasai tribes to fight one another when the Republicans are in power in Washington, but to live in peace under Democratic administrations. 16 I do not know enough to verify these notions, which may be farfetched, but they seem to suggest a possibly fruitful line of political research. Finally, a critical school of political science might help to refurbish the waning idealism of university students and promote its development along socially constructive lines. It is a fact to which many university teachers in Africa will attest that the vast majority of African students today are first and foremost job seekers who aspire to well-paid, high status, materially comfortable occupations. 1 7 No doubt they are also nationalistic. But nationalism without idealism can become as routinized and empty of radical meaning as French socialism. Fanon has warned that a generation that fails to cope effectively with the problems of society will seek solace in escapist, reactionary, and racialist forms of nationalism, which obscure the causes of its failure and accomplish little of lasting value. That kind of nationalism is the weak echo of a lost ideal. A school of political science that frankly fosters social criticism may help to bring African nationalism back from despondency to the path of creative idealism.

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NOTES 1. See Isaiah Berlin, Two Concepts of Liberty (Oxford 1958), 4 2 ^ 4 ; and E. H. Carr, The New Society (London 1951). 2. W. Arthur Lewis has written: "Plurality is the principal political problem of most of the new states created in the twentieth century. Most of them include people who differ from each other in language or tribe or religion or race; some of these groups live side by side in a long tradition of mutual hostility, restrained in the past only by a neutral imperial power. French writers use the word "cleavage" to describe a situation where people are mutually antipathetic, not because they disagree on matters of principle, like liberals and socialists, or because they have different interests, like capitalists and workers, but simply because they are historic enemies. Cleavage cannot be overcome merely by argument and economic concessions, as in the traditional British manner, because it is not based on disputes about principles or interests. Hence it is the most difficult of all political problems." Politics in West Africa (London 1965), 66. 3. " F o r our p u r p o s e s , " write James S. Coleman and Carl G. Rosberg, Jr., "national integration is regarded as a broad subsuming process, whose two major dimensions are (1) political integration, which refers to the progressive bridging of the elite-mass gap on the vertical plane in the course of developing an integrated political process and a participant political community, and (2) territorial integration, which refers to the progressive reduction of cultural and regional tensions and discontinuities on the horizontal plane in the process of creating a homogeneous territorial political community." Political Parties and National Integration in Tropical Africa (Berkeley 1964), &-9. 4. President Julius Nyerere of Tanzania has perceived this difference clearly: "In order to avoid internal conflict and further disunity each nation state is forced to promote its own nationhood. This does not only involve teaching a loyalty to a particular unit, and a particular flag—although that is serious enough. It also involves deliberately organizing one part of Africa economically, socially and constitutionally to serve the overall interests of the people of that part of Africa and (in case of conflict) not the interests either of another part of Africa or of Africa as a whole." (Address at the installation of President Kenneth Kaunda as Chancellor of the University of Zambia, July 1966.) This thought-provoking address elaborated on the contradiction between pan-Africanism and nationalism in Africa, and was not wholly pessimistic: "It is not impossible to achieve African unity through nationalism, just as it was not impossible for various tribal associations or tribally based parties to merge themselves into one nationalist movement." The present writer takes a similar view of national integration as an expansive idea that transcends existing national sovereignties. 5. This approach is advocated for the study of developing countries by Gabriel A. Almond in his notable essay, "A Functional Approach to Comparative Politics," in G. A. A l m o n d and J. S. Coleman (eds.), The Politics of the Developing Areas (Princeton 1960), 3 - 6 4 . A comparable exposition of "systems analysis" is David Easton, A Framework for Political Analysis (Englewood Cliffs 1965). 6. See, for example, David E. Apter, The Politics of Modernization (Chicago 1965). 7. There is a current fad of in-group criticism in Africanist circles which reproaches western scholars for defending one-party regimes that have since fallen from popular grace, and attacks the allegedly patronizing Afrophile sentimentalism that is said to have done a disservice to both Africa and scholarship by lending intellectual respectability to ordinary dictatorships. The criticism is misdirected. Books in this field are too often judged for their conclusions instead of their analytic qualities. Some of the best books that have spoken well of African one-party states are not at all patronizingly

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Afrophile. They are plainly objective from the functionalist point of view. 8. See Lewis Coser, The Functions of Social Conflict (Glencoe 1956). A comparable work in the field of social anthropology is Max Gluckman, Custom and Conflict in Africa (Glencoe 1955). 9. The main theme of my own substantive work concerns the political implications of class formation in Nigeria. See Nigerian Political Parties (Princeton 1963). 10. See the discussion of these types of explanation in Eugene J. Meehan, The Theory and Method of Political Analysis (Homewood 1965), 116-125. 11. An admirable exception is Colin Legum. See his sophisticated interpretation of tribal violence in Nigeria in The Observer (London), Oct. 16,1966. 12. "The single party is the modern form of the dictatorship of the bourgeoisie, unmasked, unpainted, unscrupulous, and cynical." Frantz Fanon, The Wretched of the Earth (New York 1963), 133. 13. Barrington Moore, Jr., Political Power and Social Theory (Cambridge 1958), 89-110. 14. See Ernest Gellner, Thought and Change (London 1964), 26-27, following, on this point, Karl Popper, The Open Society and Its Enemies (Princeton, rev. edn. 1950). 15. See Paul A. Baran, The Political Economy of Growth (New York 1957), 190-198. 16. Conor Cruise O'Brien, To Katanga and Back (London 1962), 211-214 and 238. 17. The recent e x a m p l e of s o m e 4 0 0 Tanzanian students, mainly f r o m the University College, demonstrating in protest against two years of national service at reduced salaries is symptomatic. A Zambian newspaper commented acidly on their behavior: The youngsters feel that the ordeal of passing examinations entitles them to membership of a new "meritocracy." They forget about men who studied in prison, when they could get the books, or snatched an hour with book and candle between sessions of political organization and dodging the colonial police. The great danger is that they may forget the ideals and objectives for which their fathers and elder brothers fought. Among these objectives was the education, at State expense, the students are now enjoying. More than that, is the ideal of societies where one class does not prey on others as leeches of laziness. (Times of Zambia [Lusaka], Oct. 26, 1966)

10 The Nature of Class Domination in Africa Richard L. Sklar

In the newly developing countries, major aspects of economic organization are subject to foreign control. The citizens and governments of such countries learn to live with the effects of pervasive economic dependence upon the industrial powers. Foreign governments and businessmen often determine the rate and scope of local capital investment, the development and use of economic resources, the composition and direction of external trade. Given this condition, it is widely believed that privileged groups and those who conduct the business of government in non-industrial countries are, knowingly or not, local agents of foreign domination. The Marxist conception of class fosters that belief. Marxist theory posits an economic basis of class determination: classes in society are determined by the mode of economic production; they emerge when people who occupy similar positions in the economic structure of society become aware of their common interests. A dominant class is then defined as one whose members own and control the means of economic production. Where the economy of a country is subject to foreign control, the very existence of a truly dominant indigenous class is called into question by this doctrine. Those who may appear to constitute a dominant class are alleged, by many analysts of this persuasion, to subserve a foreign class that is really dominant. 1 The idea of foreign domination by proxy, through the medium of a clientele or puppetized upper class, is controverted by a large body of evidence. In many post-colonial and newly developing countries, governments, businessmen, and leaders of thought regularly defy the demands and frustrate the desires of their counterparts in the industrial countries. The diplomatic independence of states that are formally non-aligned in the conflict of superpowers is a leading feature of contemporary international relations. In the economic sphere, it is now commonplace for countries that welcome foreign investment to nationalize, or "indigenize," foreign-owned enterprises, in whole or in part. Furthermore, the evidence of sustained industrial growth in agrarian countries that have adopted capitalist strategies of economic development is unmistakable. 2 Originally published in Journal of Modern African Studies 17, 4 (1979), 531-552. Reprinted by permission of the author and Cambridge University Press.

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Nationalization and industrial growth undermine traditional forms of foreign economic domination; but they do not necessarily abolish the condition of f u n d a m e n t a l e c o n o m i c d e p e n d e n c e . Indeed, the processes of e c o n o m i c m o d e r n i z a t i o n o f t e n result in n e w and m o r e stable f o r m s of class-based exploitation. N o r does the exercise of political authority by a nationalistic state refute the idea of domination by a foreign capitalist class. Marxist political theory specifically allows for a limited or "relative" autonomy on the part of any state that acts "in b e h a l f ' of a dominant class. 3 At issue for those w h o adopt a class analytic approach to the study of development is the origin and social basis of the dominant class in question. Is it indigenous to the newly developing country itself, or is it based in an alien society? To date, social theorists have dimly and doubtfully perceived the reality of indigenous class domination in newly developing countries. In Marxist thought, the p r e s u m e d e c o n o m i c basis of class d e t e r m i n a t i o n is a m a j o r obstacle to the c o m p r e h e n s i o n of class structures that may appear to have been reared, largely, upon non-economic foundations. However, a revisionist tendency in Marxian sociology does envisage a much broader basis of class determination. Stanislaw O s s o w s k i , for one, has argued that the orthodox Marxian determinants of class—ownership of the means of production and the employment of hired labor—are, by themselves, poor points of departure for realistic class analyses of m o d e m industrial societies. 4 In his opinion, corporate capitalism and bureaucratic socialism, alike, give rise to class structures that imply the presence of two additional determinants: control over both the " m e a n s of consumption" and, remarkably for a Marxist approach, the " m e a n s of compulsion." 5 Surely, these "political" determinants of class position are also relevant to class analyses of the non-industrial countries, w h e r e class domination on an e c o n o m i c basis, primarily, is not a credible idea. 6 A theory of class structure, grounded, as Ossowski appears to suggest, in a broad conception of social control, might illuminate a new horizon for development studies. It would clarify the relationship of political organization to social structure, and reveal the basis of autonomous action by dominant classes that are indigenous to newly developing countries. Although the elements of class analysis for nonindustrial societies cannot, as yet, be specified with the confidence that is born of wide acceptance, various studies indicate several topics that w o u l d be fruitful to explore, including class formation, consolidation, identification, and action. CLASS FORMATION Social scientists h a v e been relatively slow to recognize the appearance of dominant classes in modern A f r i c a n societies. During the 1950s, a f e w scholars did identify the African "middle class" as the primary source of nationalist assertion. 7 M y o w n study of Nigerian political parties during the final

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decade of British rule described an "emergent or new and rising class," one that was "engaged in class action and characterized by a growing sense of class consciousness." The composition of this incipiently dominant class was indicated by four objective criteria: high-status occupation (notably professionals, educators, substantial businessmen, and senior functionaries in the public service and in public or private enterprise), high income, superior education (especially in the cases of professionals, civil servants, and teachers), and the ownership or control of business enterprise. 8 Political parties in Nigeria, before and immediately after the attainment of independence in 1960, were conspicuous agents of class formation. They created elaborate s y s t e m s of administrative and c o m m e r c i a l patronage, involving "the liberal use of public f u n d s to promote indigenous private enterprise, while many of their leading members entered upon a comparatively grand manner of life in parliamentary office." The major parties, and those governmental agencies that were subject to their control, exercised power derived from the emergent class and the existing communal foundations of society. In cases of conflict between newly dominant class-interest groups and communal-interest groups, the former would normally prevail. 9 By far the most populous country in Africa, containing between 16 and 20 per cent of the continental population, Nigeria is noted for its cultural, linguistic, and social diversity. The contrast between dominant-class formation in the communities of southern Nigeria, where class-like f o r m s of social stratification are not traditional, and similar social processes in the theocratic Muslim Emirates of the North, is especially striking. 10 In southern Nigeria, the dominant class is a virtually exclusive product of the major forces of modern social change—western education, modern methods of communication, urbanization, and the growth of commerce. 1 1 In the northern Emirates, by contrast, modern class formation occurs within the firm context of a traditional order structured by the feudal principles of aristocratic birth and sociopolitical rank. Dominant-class formation in this region involves the social and political coalescence of traditional rulers, administrative functionaries of both aristocratic and humble origins, and businessmen. The persistence of traditional authority in northern Nigeria exemplifies the complexity of class formation in many parts of modern Africa. 1 2 So too in Ethiopia has a modern ruling class arisen within the framework of a feudal-type traditional order. Nurtured in urban centers and small towns, the core of this class is an educated administrative elite, recruited from the families of landowners, merchants, and officials. 1 3 John Markakis, who has described the formation of this class, estimated its size in 1970 to be "a few tens of thousands" in a society of some 25 million. 14 Prior to the revolution of 1974, and the subsequent abolition of private property in land, members of this class were closely associated with landlordism. In addition to their inherited holdings, they were avidly engaged in the acquisition of both rural and urban land for commercial purposes. The revolution has now blocked this

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avenue of enrichment, but the main forces of class formation—modern education and public employment—are likely to sustain the vitality of Ethiopia's ruling class whatever may b e c o m e of the practice of landownership. In eastern and central A f r i c a , economic opportunities during the colonial era were largely monopolized by immigrant races—European and Asian in that order. A f r i c a n s were subjugated by means of their exclusion from the exercise of political rights and the denial of access to educational opportunities above primary-school grades. Since the attainment of national independence by numerous states in this region from 1960 onwards, dominant classes have arisen with remarkable rapidity. This process has been studied by social scientists in most of the countries concerned, notably in Kenya, where the right to acquire productive property is upheld in the name of " A f r i c a n " as opposed to alien conceptions of " s o c i a l i s m . " 1 5 A s a result of this policy, a large and racially diversified landowning sector coexists with the most affluent and vigorous business community in eastern Africa. B y 1974, African proprietors owned more than one-third of the few thousand farming estates that were exclusively held by Europeans 20 years earlier. Although industry and finance are still largely controlled by foreign interests, African (and to a lesser extent Asian) businessmen control the means of internal distribution and transportation. 1 6 The frequently competing interests of e c o n o m i c g r o u p s in K e n y a are co-ordinated by o f f i c i a l s who relate positively to the goals and values of foreign and domestic businessmen. In Z a m b i a , a b a d l y d e p r i v e d A f r i c a n population of s o m e 4 million emerged from colonial domination in 1964, with a tiny educated elite of but 109 university graduates (including one engineer and four doctors) and about 1200 secondary-school " g r a d u a t e s . " Since then, Zambia has experienced a breathtaking organizational revolution effectuated from above. Thousands of g r a d u a t e s f r o m p o s t - s e c o n d a r y institutions in Z a m b i a and a b r o a d have entered the senior divisions of the civil service and even more lucrative positions in the burgeoning public enterprise or "parastatal" agencies. Despite the egalitarian precepts of a national doctrine propagated by the political leaders of a one-party state, the immediate beneficiaries of Zambia's educational and organizational revolutions, in the aggregate, exhibit elitist patterns of behavior and acquisitive tendencies that mark the process of class formation. With genuine dismay, President K a u n d a has deplored the appearance of "this new c l a s s , " nurtured by reforms that were intended to foster egalitarian democracy. 1 7 B y contrast with K e n y a , the Z a m b i a n Government d o e s not overtly encourage large-scale f a r m i n g . However, members of the new c l a s s have rushed to purchase farmland formerly held by white settlers, often obtaining loans s e c u r e d by their regular s a l a r i e s or by political i n f l u e n c e . 1 8 Their incomes from such holdings will scarcely be affected by the formal conversion, in 1975, of freehold tenure into long-term (100-year) leaseholdings for ideological reasons. These cases serve to identify a few intellectual issues that arise in recent

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studies of dominant-class formation. First, what are the précipitants of this process and the principal agencies that cause it to occur? In every case, the exertion of political power in the form of state action appears to overtake and outweigh more gradual processes of economic and social change. In reality these forces are not entirely separable; nor are they easily isolable for analytical purposes. For example, special interest groups, including property owners and traditional rulers, have often supported political action to create economic opportunities, institute modern education, and indigenize both public and private bureaucratic organizations. However, the beneficiaries of these innovations have sometimes used the logic of modern nationalism to destroy their patron saints of yesteryear, as in the case of Ethiopia. In other cases, as in northern Nigeria, propertied and traditional interest groups have rushed to the head of events, thereby creating an overall impression of social continuity rather than change. In all cases, dominant-class formation is a consequence of the exercise of power by those who control various and diverse social organizations. 19 It is important to add that the "political" basis of class formation is not limited in meaning to the political control of economic resources. The latter idea is probably not inconsistent with doctrines that posit a strictly economic basis of class determination. Here I wish to advance a more controversial proposition: that class relations, at bottom, are determined by relations of power, not production. A second, yet related issue for students of dominant-class formation in Africa involves the role of both traditional ruling classes and indigenous, primarily rural, capitalists. This issue is ably analyzed by Irving Leonard Markovitz in his synoptic overview of class action in Africa. 2 0 The matter is clarified by his perceptive distinction between "chiefs" acting in concert as a "pressure group," in which case their group is but "one among many others," and such persons "as ongoing elements of the ruling class." With particular reference to northern Nigeria, Markovitz identifies the contribution of traditional rulers to modern class formation thus: As members of [the ruling class today], the chiefs might not exist as chiefs, for ruling might very well necessitate radical changes of appearance and expertise. What matters are not so much the formal instruments of power, but the relative position of dominance vis-à-vis other social strata.21 This perception reveals a further fundamental distinction: that between traditionalism and conservatism. Chiefs united as a pressure group thereby assert the values of tradition, whatever else they may intend to accomplish. As members of a modern ruling class, however, traditional rulers are more profoundly conservative, as they seek "to maintain their social, political, and e c o n o m i c p o w e r . " From this perspective, M a r k o v i t z observes, "change need not necessarily be viewed as a threat; it may even be welcomed

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as a means of consolidating power." 2 2 A third, purely abstract, issue relates to the way in which the process of class formation is conceptualized. This account draws attention to the "fusion of elites" as a critical process in dominant-class formation. 2 3 It identifies diverse elites—wealthy businessmen, senior administrators of both private and public-sector organizations, leading politicians, members of learned professions, and prominent traditional authorities that represent various kinds and sources of power. Yet they identify with one another more firmly and in more ways than they do with their respective institutional bases or organizational activities. They appear to unite and act in concert—consciously so—on the basis of their common interest in social control, and this may be identified as the wellspring of class formation. CLASS CONSOLIDATION Whereas class formation, as Marx believed, is consummated by the political consciousness of a class acting for itself (fur sichJ,24 class consolidation is an idea about social organization, including the economic and specifically political foundations of power. In order to consolidate—protect and extend—their positions of power, the leaders of newly dominant classes quickly reconstruct the existing organization of authority in accordance with their perceived needs. Class action of this kind is divisible for analytical purposes into economic and political components. Economic

Consolidation

Class interests are likely to prevail when they are promoted in the name of national aspirations. Economic independence is a broadly accepted nationalist ideal; a patriotic national leadership will always seek to indigenize economic power. 25 In all but a few African countries, this endeavour takes two principal forms: support for indigenous enterprise, including the transfer of foreign assets to local owners; and nationalization or state participation in the ownership of productive property and natural resources. The relatively few except i o n s to this dual a p p r o a c h a r e t h o s e c o u n t r i e s w i t h strictly s o c i a l i s t regimes—Guinea, Guinea-Bissau, Congo People's Republic, Angola, Mozambique, Tanzania, Somalia, and Ethiopia—that actively discourage or prohibit many, if not all, forms of private enterprise. Elsewhere indigenization spells economic consolidation of the dominant class. The techniques of this consolidation process are displayed on a massive scale in Nigeria, where public programs in support of indigenous private enterprise have existed since 1949. They were used imaginatively to promote nationalist goals and more dubious partisan political aims during the decade prior to independence and the succeeding era of regionalist rivalry from 1960 to 1966. Since the civil war of 1967-70, indigenization has been a cornerstone of economic policy; its meaning has been summarized thus: "Indigenization in

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the private sector is a policy of extending Nigerian ownership and control by g o v e r n m e n t fiat or p r e s s u r e . Government l e v e r a g e is e m p l o y e d either to exclude or to evict foreign concerns from certain fields of economic activity or to require direct sale of partial or complete ownership of existing foreign firms." 2 6 S u c c e s s i v e versions of the Nigerian Enterprises Promotion Decree have specified nearly 100 categories of enterprises for either 100 or 60 per cent Nigerian ownership. All unspecified categories are required to have a 40 per cent Nigerian shareholding. B y 1979, assets valued at more than $ 7 0 0 million had been transferred from foreign to Nigerian owners. Public and private lending agencies facilitated the purchase by Nigerians of high-yielding shares at transfer prices that were set at enticingly low levels (and would quickly appreciate in value) by an official commission. A s Sayre P. Schatz remarks, "Indigenization provided a windfall for a sprinkling of fortunate N i g e r i a n s . " 2 7 Indigenization under military a u s p i c e s in N i g e r i a coincided with the great petroleum b o o m during the decade of the 1970s that permitted generous w a g e and salary increases, authorized, at first, by the Government for publicsector e m p l o y e e s in 1 9 7 4 and adopted by private enterprise in 1975. The specified salary hikes of 30 to 100 per cent for individuals who were already relatively well paid were characterized by s o m e Nigerian critics with biting realism as a " b r i b e " to privileged elements so that they would accede to the continuation of military rule. Whatever the motivation, " T h e surge in oil wealth and the resultant . . . w a g e increases unleashed a veritable frenzy of a c q u i s i t i o n . " 2 8 F u r t h e r m o r e , nationalized b a n k s , including B a r c l a y s and Standard (now 60 per cent owned by the Government), provided low-interest loans to many t h o u s a n d s of N i g e r i a n s w h o w i s h e d to invest in f o r e i g n firms. 2 9 While the indigenization of capitalist enterprise in Nigeria is a leading nationalist goal, capitalist development as such is undeniably dependent upon p u b l i c and f o r e i g n i n v e s t m e n t . U n d e r the T h i r d ( 1 9 7 5 - 8 0 ) N a t i o n a l Development Plan, foreign investors continue to provide the lion's share of private investment. Increasingly, they undertake to form partnerships with local private investors and g o v e r n m e n t a l a g e n c i e s . In the oil sector, the Nigerian National Petroleum Corporation soon acquired 55 per cent ownership of the producing companies and 60 per cent of the companies that market oil in Nigeria. The current policy for economic development is succinctly characterized by Schatz as follows: "nurture-capitalism with state capitalist, welfare and accelerated-development tendencies." 3 0 There are ample grounds for skepticism about the " w e l f a r e " component of Nigerian economic policy and reason to doubt (as does Schatz) the probability that public-sector investment will soon develop "state c a p i t a l i s m " as the dominant force in Nigeria. What cannot be gainsaid, however, is the consolidation of a dominant c l a s s committed to capitalist development. More elaborate by far than other such examples in A f r i c a , each of which has its

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own distinctive features, the Nigerian situation is striking and by no means atypical. Political

Consolidation

The most common political device for dominant-class consolidation in Africa has been authoritarian government. 3 1 Authoritarian regimes infringe liberty by disallowing the right of citizens freely to form political associations that may compete for control of the state. When the political leadership of a dominant class is unable to organize state power effectively, military intervention becomes probable. This kind of organizational revolution, or drastic change in the structure of authority, does not normally produce a change in the class content of power. As José Nun has commented with reference to "the middleclass military coup" in Latin America, military regimes usually "represent" the dominant class "and compensate for its inability to establish itself as a well-integrated hegemonic group." 3 2 Similarly, an e m b a t t l e d class may seek salvation in military rule, although the social cost of this resort cannot be reckoned in advance. Thus, in Uganda, the regime of Milton Obote threatened the interests of closely knit p r i v i l e g e d e l e m e n t s — b u s i n e s s m e n , p r o f e s s i o n a l s , civil s e r v a n t s , and landowners—in the southern, wealthier part of the country. As his redistributionist program was sabotaged by antagonistic civil servants, Obote relied upon an aggrandized military establishment to uphold his authority. In an explanation of the U g a n d a coup d'état, Michael F. Lofchie shows why Obote's position was virtually untenable: The Uganda army was one of the most highly paid military organizations in all of Anglophone Africa, especially at its rank and file levels, and its commander, Idi Amin, was, in all likelihood, one of the most highly paid soldiers in all of the English-speaking African countries. . . . The salary scale of the army was directly comparable to that for the civil service with commissioned officers enjoying levels of income that were at least the equivalent of those of the country's highest level bureaucrats. Moreover, soldiers enjoyed a host of additional material benefits not available to any other Uganda citizens, including free clothing, food and housing, free educational and medical benefits, burial grants and family allowances. If it is taken into account that the average per capita income for Africans in Uganda during the mid-1960s was only about £12 or $30 per year, then military incomes (e.g. £510 or $1,275 per year for sergeants) appear truly astronomic by comparison with those of the vast majority of the population, the peasant and subsistence farmers. . . soldiers of all ranks had become a self-consciously privileged stratum, deeply aware of their materially favored status and determined to protect it at all costs. . . [The coup of 1971] made it possible for soldiers to continue an ongoing process of personal accumulation.33 In brief, the army shared the values of the dominant class and seized its leadership with ruthless abandon. At the time of writing, only three of the 50 sovereign states in Africa,

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namely Botswana, Gambia, and Mauritius—each with a population of just over a million or l e s s — h a v e constitutional, as distinct f r o m authoritarian, g o v e r n m e n t s . But the c a u s e of constitutional, or limited, g o v e r n m e n t has been revived in several other countries, notably Nigeria and Ghana, where the oppressive features of authoritarian rule are manifestly incompatible with the liberal values of dominant classes. Following the conclusion of the Nigerian civil war, in 1970, the military Government of General Yakubu Gowon unveiled a program for the restoration of civilian rule in 1976. G o w o n ' s repudiation of that pledge in 1974 was a major factor in his removal as Head of State the following year. His successor, General Murtala M u h a m m e d , appointed an all-civilian, 50-member constitution drafting committee, representing all sections of the country and a broad spectrum of opinion, tilted towards the learned professions and university faculties. The committee produced a draft constitution, firmly grounded in the precepts of liberal democracy, 3 4 that w a s approved with minor alterations in 1978 by an elected constituent assembly. T h e constitution provides for a federal f o r m of government, separation of powers at the center, a bicameral legislature with equal representation of the states in a co-ordinate upper chamber, and democratic representation in the federal and state legislatures by means of electoral competition between political parties that would be free to form on a national (as opposed to a sectional) basis. This example appears to have influenced the course of events in Ghana, where educational development and dominant-class formation is proportionate to that in Nigeria. In 1977, university students and m e m b e r s of all professional bodies in the country united to demand the resignation of a faltering military regime. In the face of threats by the bar association, the medical association, and other professional groups to withhold services to the state, General I. K. A c h e a m p o n g declared that civilian and constitutional government would be restored. Limited government implies a commitment to political freedom. Its reappearance on a grand scale in West Africa also betokens the existence of dominant social classes, whose members are confident of their ability to m a n a g e the affairs of society. Liberal governments are far more stable and less susceptible to revolutionary upheaval than dictatorships that serve the interests of privileged classes in an oppressive and demeaning manner. CLASS IDENTIFICATION The m e t h o d o l o g y of class analysis includes both subjective and objective identification. S u b j e c t i v e identification, or c o n s c i o u s n e s s of class, is the expression for what people think about their own class position (self-identification) and the positions of others. This subject has not been studied widely or comprehensively enough in Africa to justify general conclusions. However, evidence relating to the attitudes of university students does indicate a strong

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identification with class privilege on their part. Having analyzed a large sample survey of university students in Ghana, Tanzania, and Uganda, Joel D. Barkan reports findings that attest to their socially conservative consciousness of class: M o s t A f r i c a n university s t u d e n t s c o n c e i v e o f t h e m s e l v e s as future m e m b e r s o f a t e c h n o c r a t i c u p p e r - m i d d l e c l a s s o f o r g a n i z a t i o n m e n rather than a s m e m b e r s of a p r e s u m p t i v e r u l i n g elite. . . M o s t s t u d e n t s regard the e l i t e / m a s s g a p as inevitable, and j u s t i f y its e x i s t e n c e o n the g r o u n d s that the t e c h n o c r a t i c c l a s s m a k e s a s i g n i f i c a n t c o n t r i b u t i o n to national d e v e l o p ment. . . . C o n s i s t e n t w i t h their desire to b e c o m e technocrats in the bureauc r a c i e s o f their c o u n t r i e s ' g o v e r n m e n t s , m o s t A f r i c a n university students are relatively apolitical. T h o u g h they s u b s c r i b e to a technocratic c o n c e p t i o n o f authority and p e r c e i v e the p o l i t i c a l elite in p e j o r a t i v e terms, students are unlikely to c h a l l e n g e the political elite s o l o n g as it s o l i c i t s their expertise and guarantees them the l i f e s t y l e o f the upper-middle c l a s s they covet. A s a result, it w o u l d s e e m that a tacit bargain o f mutual n o n - i n t e r f e r e n c e has b e e n reached b e t w e e n the n e w organization m e n of A f r i c a and the political elites w h i c h they w i l l s o o n s e r v e . 3 5

In the absence of systematically acquired data on this subject, similar to that presented by Barkan (survey research data may be indispensable for this purpose), the class consciousness of large groups of people can only be inferred f r o m their actions. This need not be an entirely impressionistic method, since astute and knowledgeable observers can draw reasonable infere n c e s f r o m o b s e r v a t i o n s of e v e n t s and d i s c u s s i o n s with p a r t i c i p a n t s . However, class action, itself, is an inference f r o m behavior that can be observed and described, specifically individual or group action. As a concept, then, class action has analytical and explanatory rather than descriptive significance. Hence, alleged examples of class consciousness that are not directly derived from individuals themselves by scientific survey methods are twice removed from reality. Classes may be identified objectively for analytical purposes on the basis of either criteria or group actions that can be described. A list of objective criteria for the composition of newly dominant classes in non-industrial countries would include the four that I have specified above in relation to class formation—high-status occupation, high income, superior education, and the ownership or control of business enterprise—in addition to a specific measure of power, such as the ability to control the means of consumption and compulsion, as suggested by Ossowski. 3 6 When the dominant class has been identified on this basis, it must shed its anonymity as the fledgling "new class" and receive a name that is appropriate to its nature. The problems of naming are not without substantive significance. The Nomenclature

of Class

Analysis

E n g e l s d e f i n e d t h e term " b o u r g e o i s i e " to m e a n " t h e class of m o d e r n

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capitalists, owners of the means of social production and employers of wagelabor.'' 37 Recently, the term has been used by Marxists and others to identify dominant classes in societies that maintain market economies and allow capitalist accumulation as a consequence of private property in the means of production. Thus broadly conceived, the generic term may be variously qualified for analytical purposes. Such qualification would correspond to stages in bourgeois class development and variations of social composition. Several different qualifiers have been systematically applied by students of bourgeois class domination in Africa, among them "bureaucratic," "state," "auxiliary," "managerial," and "organizational." The conception of a "bureaucratic bourgeoisie" as the new ruling class has been adopted in several works, notably the influential studies of Ian Clegg in Algeria and Issa G. Shivji in Tanzania. 38 Many others have used this popular term as a merely felicitous expression without particular reference to class analysis. A related term, "administrative bourgeoisie," corresponds to the phrase "bourgeoisie of the civil service," used with opprobrious intent by René Dumont and Frantz Fanon. 3 9 To my mind, all such terms are too narrowly conceived to comprehend the dominant class of a developing country that has a significant entrepreneurial sector in addition to a large and growing number of persons in professional occupations. Theoretically, a functional elite, such as the civil and military bureaucratic elite, by itself could form an elite-class. But this limiting case does not exist anywhere to my knowledge. In all societies, the functionary element is part of a social class, not its sole constituent. 40 A f e w scholars have preferred the closely related term "state bourgeoisie." Thus, for Samir Amin, the state bourgeoisie grows out of an administrative bureaucracy when the state takes over large portions of the foreignowned sector of the economy. Then, in his view, the state bourgeoisie or "upper strata of the bureaucracy" may merge with the "landed oligarchy" to form a "new bourgeoisie of the comprador type." 41 Evidently, Amin does not use the term "state bourgeoisie" to identify the entire new class, which is, in his view, dominated by an alien bourgeoisie, based in the industrial capitalist countries. With specific reference to Zaire, J. Ph. Peemans describes the "state bourgeoisie" as "essentially a political group, which exercises an overall control over the economic resources of the country." Most of the new recruits to this class are "sons of the petty bourgeoisie," many of whom have received post-secondary education: Through its control of the State. . . [this new class] is able, as a group, to control the capital accumulation process in Zaire, and is responsible for the conditions of its relation to the international system; the use of State power is likewise the means by which individual members of the emerging class can insert themselves into the structures of capital ownership, not only as administrators of State and "mixed economy" enterprises, but also through

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s a v i n g s on h i g h salaries, various e a r n i n g s and s i d e l i n e i n c o m e s c h a n n e l l e d by the e x e r c i s e o f p u b l i c authority. S a v i n g s can b e invested in trade, transport a n d real e s t a t e , or c o n v e r t e d i n t o land. T h e S t a t e b o u r g e o i s i e can acquire a m o r e s e c u r e e c o n o m i c position, and can join the upper ranks of the c o m m e r c i a l b o u r g e o i s i e . 4 2

Here again, the identity of socially dominant "bourgeois" elements as a single class is left open to question. In h i s w o r k on K e n y a , C o l i n L e y s — u n l i k e S h i v j i , A m i n , o r Peemans—distinguishes between all sections of the "bourgeoisie" and the "higher bureaucracy." 4 3 He refers to the highest stratum as an "auxiliary bourgeoisie" in "firm alliance" with foreign capital. The "higher bureaucracy," he notes, emulates the earning power of management in the private sector and promotes the interest of foreign capital. 44 These formulations support a finding of neo-colonialist domination in Kenya, but they do not result in the conception of a single dominant class. An attempt to represent the dominant class of a non-industrial and nonsocialist country comprehensively, and as an incarnation of the bourgeoisie, appears in my study of the impact of multinational mining companies in Zambia: [ T h e ] term or c a t e g o r y s h o u l d reflect the c o e x i s t e n c e of a n e w l y d e v e l o p i n g and d e p e n d e n t private enterprise sector with a preponderant yet protective p u b l i c s e c t o r . In t h i s c i r c u m s t a n c e , w h i c h is w i d e s p r e a d in the "Third World," b u s i n e s s m e n , bureaucrats, l e a d i n g politicians, and m e m b e r s of the learned p r o f e s s i o n s constitute a n e w ruling class. I s u g g e s t the term "managerial b o u r g e o i s i e " to d e s i g n a t e this c l a s s . I n a s m u c h as this term clearly refers to the private b u s i n e s s elite as w e l l as the managers o f public enterp r i s e s a n d h i g h g o v e r n m e n t a l o f f i c i a l s , it m a y b e p r e f e r r e d t o e i t h e r "bureaucratic" or "state" b o u r g e o i s i e . Moreover, this term, in contrast w i t h the term "entrepreneurial b o u r g e o i s i e , " reflects the apparent d i s p o s i t i o n o f b o u r g e o i s e l e m e n t s in n e w l y d e v e l o p i n g countries to m a n a g e the production and distribution o f w e a l t h rather than to create n e w w e a l t h - p r o d u c i n g enterprises.45

Since the managerial bourgeoisie, as here described, arises during a period of economic reconstruction, its composition is protean and its capacity for adaptation to change is considerable. In directly productive economic spheres, its members include managers of foreign firms, managers of domestic firms, local—i.e., national—entrepreneurs, and state bureaucrats. Although this mixture, as an equilibrated composition of diverse elements, is likely to persist for a long time in many countries, it is, nonetheless, characteristic of a transitional economic phase. Should a given economy foster public, at the expense of private, enterprise, state bureaucrats would displace other elements, and the dominant class as a whole would then become increasingly state-centered. Conversely, the development of private enterprise as the

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predominant m o d e of production would transform the " m a n a g e r i a l " bourgeoisie into a "corporate" or "entrepreneurial" bourgeoisie depending upon the form of capitalist economic organization. In his w i d e - r a n g i n g e x a m i n a t i o n of " p o w e r a n d c l a s s in A f r i c a , " Markovitz introduces the term "organizational bourgeoisie": I use the term "organizational bourgeoisie" to refer to a combined ruling group consisting of the top political leaders and bureaucrats, the traditional rulers and their descendants, and the leading members of the liberal professions and the rising business bourgeoisie. Top members of the military and police forces are also part of this bureaucratic bourgeoisie. Over time, leading elements in this coalition change. Although the bureaucratic and political components have dominated until now, they have had to seek a social base. Increasingly in West African countries, as in independent countries everywhere on the continent, a developing commercial and business class provides that base. 4 6

Like my " m a n a g e r i a l bourgeoisie," and b y contrast with the previous expressions that have been discussed, M a r k o v i t z ' s conception is meant to comprehend the dominant class as a whole. 4 7 This cannot be done by using conceptions that identify classes with specific occupational groups, functional elites, or eclectic mixtures of groups and elites that are not chosen in accordance with a theoretical principle. 4 8 It is difficult to see h o w such conceptions can be reconciled with the requirements of class analysis. CLASS ACTION Class analysis attributes social solidarity to social inequality and domination. Collective action may be interpreted as class action if the effect is to increase or reduce social inequality and domination, or to strengthen or weaken the means whereby the domination of a privileged stratum is maintained. Each of these effects is subject to confirmation by empirical means. Thus it can b e demonstrated that collaboration between regional power groups in Nigeria between 1962 and 1965 served to intensify class domination. Political regionalism was a conservative strategy that facilitated the use of ethnic and sectional prejudice by dominant class elements as a political w e a p o n against challengers f r o m below. However, the regional power system " w a s undermined b y an acute contradiction between the constitutional allocation of p o w e r and the real distribution of p o w e r in society." 4 9 Since o n e R e g i o n — t h e N o r t h — h a d a numerical majority, the party that monopolized power there virtually dominated the entire Federation. But the three southern Regions were far m o r e advanced in the development of their educational and technological capacities. Anti-regionalism, emanating mainly f r o m the South, merged with radical opposition to class privilege. Consequently, conservative southerners allied with aristocratic northerners to suppress opposition to the

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regional power system. Repression breeds revolution; hence the upsurge of widespread agitation against the regime in deeply aggrieved Yorubaland, culminating in the popular, Ibo-led, coup d'état of January 1966. In the absence of a political organization to represent the interests of lower classes in an effective manner, a disorganized dominant class may easily regroup and make the most of an opportunity to reorganize itself. Thus were the inept regionalist politicians in Nigeria displaced by a more progressive alignment of military officers and civil servants. The tragic blunders of this group, culminating in civil war, were largely attributable to their deeply ingrained technocratic sentiments. They tried to impose a new political structure upon the country without consultation and public approval, but lacked the power to do so. During the civil war of 1967-70, dominant-class interests were never threatened; indeed, they were energetically served by the military regime. 5 0 Post-war policies, as previously described, have been clearly designed to consolidate the power of Nigeria's dominant class. It cannot be emphasized too strongly that class action is an interpretive conception, without descriptive significance, inferred from empirical evidence of group action. This interpretation is most likely to appeal to scholars who wish to investigate the causes and consequences of social inequality. Hence the seizure of power by the Ugandan army in 1971, an action that initially served to protect a threatened system of class privilege, was provocatively interpreted by Lofchie as "class action by the military." 51 Similarly, the statist and essentially authoritarian political system of Kenya has been interpreted by M. Tamarkin as a consequence of dominant-class action rather than "tribalist" politics or neo-colonialist manipulation. 5 2 And, in an especially well-informed account of "state-building" in Algeria, Jean Leca finds that "the army is nothing but a part of the state bureaucracy with the same organizational values and the same goals as those of its civilian counterparts." 53 From this perspective, populist manipulation of the citizenry by the Algerian military-controlled Government could be interpreted as a form of defensive action by the dominant class. Class action may be analyzed into various forms; these include class formation, consolidation, collaboration, and struggle. Many commentators in Africa appear to be preoccupied with class struggle, although the other forms affect many more people at the present time. Class collaboration is especially important as an explanation of continued bourgeois rule. Evidence has been adduced to support a hypothesis to this effect: that under the auspices of a populist, bourgeois-dominated regime, the bourgeoisie will collaborate with the peasantry at the expense of the relatively small and immature proletariat. 5 4 The marks of bourgeois-peasant collaboration include these: a rising level of agricultural subsidies, the shift of public-service expenditures from urban to rural areas, the elimination of trade-union autonomy, severe restriction of the right to strike, and an insistence upon wage restraint while the salary scales for executive, senior administrative, and other white-collar

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employee elements are allowed to rise. Bourgeois collaboration with a narrowly based proletariat at the expense of a populous peasantry would be unlikely to persist for long without effective methods to control and repress the peasantry. Finally, collaboration between the proletariat and the peasantry at the expense of the bourgeoisie is the classic formula for social revolution in non-industrial countries. These schematic ideas have not as yet attracted much attention in African studies. Their utility remains to be established by comparative class analyses of representative social orders. Yet another, highly significant, form of class action may be inferred from the economic behavior of members of the "managerial bourgeoisie" in many non-industrial countries. Such persons often pursue their interests by means of e c o n o m i c " p a r t n e r s h i p " or c o l l a b o r a t i o n w i t h f o r e i g n i n v e s t o r s . Increasingly, such partnerships take the form of joint ownership agreements in which the host state, itself, participates. Whenever foreign managers are present within the host country, the managerial bourgeoisie includes a foreign or corporate international wing. In such cases, the managerial bourgeoisie is a transnational class. 55 The domestic, or local, section of the managerial bourgeoisie is, in effect, the dominant stratum of a national bourgeoisie that is normally far larger than the managerial bourgeoisie itself. Yet the latter has a distinctive class (or subclass) identity that "is manifest behaviorally in the collective actions and attributes of its members." Specifically, the managerial bourgeoisie has a pronounced "tendency to coalesce with bourgeois elements at comparable levels of control in foreign countries." 56 Coalescence of the managerial bourgeoisie (domestic section) with the corporate international bourgeoisie means that class action has taken the historically significant form of transnational class formation. CONCLUSION In colonial Africa, the imperial powers favored and facilitated the emergence of a collaborative bourgeoisie. Yet, the ongoing formation and consolidation of this class since independence has not been attributable to foreign domination of the African economies. At bottom, class relations are determined by relations of power. Class formation is a consequence of determinants that are s p e c i f i c a l l y p o l i t i c a l as w e l l as e c o n o m i c . H o w e v e r " d e p e n d e n t " or "extraverted" the economy of an underdeveloped country may be, the autonomy of its bourgeoisie may yet be firmly established upon a foundation of indigenous political organization. 57 For lack of an adequate theory of class determination, the study of class domination in non-industrial countries has often fallen into the populistic trap of a dogmatic belief in foreign domination by proxy. Despite the professed intentions of those w h o propagate this idea, its practical political effect is likely to be conservative. Disparagement of the indigenous bourgeoisie as a

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"comprador," "clientele," or "neo-colonial puppet" class betrays a serious lack of appreciation for the nature and strength of dominant-class formation in the non-industrial countries. Those w h o wear such intellectual blinkers invariably misconstrue as subservience to the dominant classes of industrialcapitalist countries actions that stem from the self-motivated desires of an emergent bourgeoisie to collaborate with bourgeois elements abroad. What is more, they fail to comprehend the mutation of simple forms of transnational class collaboration between an indigenous bourgeoisie and sectors of the corporate international bourgeoisie into more lasting forms of transnational class coalescence. In typically populist fashion, they foster cultural and national antagonism instead of serious criticism of class domination. 5 8 If, as the proponents of this doctrine allege, persons who hold positions of authority in non-industrial countries lack real power, it would follow that they are not really responsible for their actions. It then becomes logical, in a superficial way, to attribute both economic mismanagement and political oppression by such persons to their presumed foreign masters. By implication, the denial of national political responsibility minimizes the significance of local organizations and institutions since these do not seem to be a matter of great moment. Hence, the "neo-colonial puppet" doctrine helps to create a frame of mind that lacks concern for the values of liberty; conversely, it fosters attitudes that are compatible with various justifications for authoritarian government. In newly developing countries, as elsewhere, the foundations of class domination include political factors that are basic to the structure of society. Of them, the most important is the presence or absence of liberty—meaning, at the very least, freedom of speech, freedom of political association, and limited government. In the absence of liberty, democracy will collapse upon an insubstantial foundation, and attempts to build socialism will be retarded, if not foiled, by dominant-class practices. This conclusion is supported by the decline of socialist thought and practice under various authoritarian regimes that were, at first, dedicated to the elimination of class privilege and the prevention of bourgeois rule. Regimes that fit this description in post-colonial A f r i c a include N k r u m a h ' s G h a n a , Sékou T o u r é ' s Guinea, K e i t a ' s Mali, Nyerere's Tanzania, Kaunda's Zambia, Siyad Barre 's Somalia, Algeria, Congo People's Republic, and the revolutionary regimes of Guinea-Bissau, Cape Verde, Mozambique, and Angola. Nearly all of them, however, are judged to have produced bourgeois domination of one kind or another—bureaucratic, state, or managerial—by critics who are themselves sympathetic to socialism. 5 9 The logical conclusion for socialists to draw from this experience would be to the effect that there should be a working (or subject) class struggle for liberty as well as equality in Africa. Normally, authoritarian regimes operate to consolidate the power of dominant classes. However, their oppressive features are widely resented, and they do not, as a rule, provide for orderly changes in governmental organization

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and personnel. On the contrary, authoritarian rule virtually guarantees that political change will be eruptive and costly to privileged classes. This liability renders it distasteful and expendable to dominant classes that are able to maintain themselves in power by other means. Unremitting demands for the introduction or restoration of liberal and limited government in many African countries appear to reflect the rejection of authoritarianism by bourgeois classes that are steadily consolidating their power. Socialists would be ill-advised to scorn liberal constitutions that guarantee freedom of political association as the basis of democratic representation. The fact that such constitutions may be introduced at the urging and under the auspices of bourgeois elements for their o w n reasons, as in Nigeria, does not detract from their value to socialist movements. Liberty is a universal interest; its emblem has been inscribed upon the banner of socially creative classes and progressive movements in every age, everywhere. A socialist movement that could not gain and hold power where constitutional government has been established would lose the spirit of freedom and b e c o m e socialist in name only under the aegis of an authoritarian regime. NOTES An acknowledgement is due to the Harry S. Truman Research Institute of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, where this paper was originally written. 1. For an exposition of this thesis, see Samir Amin, Unequal Development, translated by Brian Pearce (New York 1976). 2. See the seminal article, documenting this process from a Marxist perspective, by Bill Warren, "Imperialism and Capitalist Industrialization," in New Left Review 81 (London September - October 1973), 3-44. 3. Ralph Miliband, Marxism and Politics (Oxford 1977), ch. 5. 4. Stanislaw Ossowski, Class Structure in the Social Consciousness, trs. by S. Patterson (New York 1963), 33 and 157. 5. Ibid., 185-186. 6. For a similar view, see James A. Bill, "Class Analysis and the Dialectics of Modernization in the Middle East," in International Journal of Middle East Studies 3 (New York October 1972), 417-434, 420. 7. Martin L. Kilson, "Nationalism and Social Classes in British West Africa," in The Journal of Politics 20, 2 (Gainesville May 1958), 368-387. A symposium sponsored by the International Institute of Differing Civilizations reached this conclusion: "The driving force in nearly all the nationalist movements has come from the middle class"; Development of a Middle Class in Tropical and Sub-Tropical Countries ( B r u s s e l s 1956), 453. See also T h o m a s H o d g k i n , African Political Parties (Harmondsworth 1961), 27-29; and the survey by Immanuel Wallerstein, "Class, Tribe, and Party in West African Politics," in Seymour M. Lipset and Stein Rokkan (eds.), Party Systems and Voter Alignments (New York 1967), 497-518. 8. Richard L. Sklar, Nigerian Political Parties (Princeton 1963), 480-481. 9. Ibid., 481-482 and 501-502. 10. See Chapter 3 of this book, pp. 39-43. 11. The indispensable study of these processes in colonial Nigeria is James S. Coleman, Nigeria: Background to Nationalism (Berkeley and Los Angeles 1958). 12. The classic study of political change in northern Nigeria is C. S. Whitaker,

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The Politics of Tradition (Princeton 1970). 13. John Markakis, Ethiopia: Anatomy of a Traditional Polity (Oxford 1974). 14. Ibid., 182. 15. Republic of Kenya, African Socialism and Its Application to Planning in Kenya (Nairobi 1965), Sessional Paper No. 10. 16. The evidence adduced in numerous studies has been summarized by Kipkorir Aly Azad Rana, "Class Formation and Social Conflict: a case study of Kenya," in Ufahamu 7, 3 (Los Angeles 1977), 17-72. 17. K e n n e t h D. K a u n d a , Humanism in Zambia and a Guide to Its Implementation, Part II (Lusaka 1974), 110-111; see also William Tordoff (ed.), Politics in Zambia (Berkeley and Los Angeles 1974), 385-401. 18. Maud Shimwaayi Muntemba, "Rural Underdevelopment in Zambia: Kabwe Rural District, 1 8 5 0 - 1 9 7 0 , " Ph.D. dissertation (Los Angeles 1977), 338. 19. This idea differs from the traditional Marxist conception of class formation as an o u t c o m e of r e l a t i o n s h i p s to the m e a n s of p r o d u c t i o n primarily. Cf. S z y m o n Chodak, "Social S t r a t i f i c a t i o n in S u b - S a h a r a n A f r i c a , " in Canadian Journal of African Studies 7, 3 (Montreal 1973), 4 0 1 - 4 1 7 . Chodak's thoughtful discussion of class formation from a Marxist perspective barely conceptualizes the formation of a dominant class in Africa. 20. Irving Leonard Markovitz, Power and Class in Africa: an introduction to change and conflict in African politics (Englewood Cliffs 1977). On class formation, see especially 1 5 3 - 1 7 2 and 2 8 0 - 2 8 1 , where Markovitz cites the "path-breaking" work of Polly Hill on "rural capitalism" in West Africa. 21. Ibid., 158. 22. Ibid., 171. 23. Sklar, op. cit., 482. 24. Marx used this phrase in the Poverty of Philosophy (1847). His theory of class is succinctly presented with relevant quotations in Reinhard Bendix and Seymour Martin Lipset, "Karl M a r x ' s Theory of Social Class," in Bendix and Lipset (eds.), Class, Status, and Power: a reader in social stratification (New York 1966, 2nd edn.), 6-11. 25. The tensions created by conservative economic policies in the Ivory Coast that perpetuate foreign ownership and control of most industrial enterprises are discussed by Bonnie Campbell, "Ivory Coast," in John Dunn (ed.), West African States: failure and promise (Cambridge 1978), 9 8 - 1 0 0 and 105-116. 26. Sayre P. Schatz, Nigerian Capitalism (Berkeley and Los Angeles 1977), 58. 27. Ibid., 60. 28. Ibid., 55. 29. See Richard A. Joseph, " A f f l u e n c e and U n d e r d e v e l o p m e n t : the Nigerian experience," in The Journal of Modern African Studies 16, 2 (Cambridge June 1978), 227-233. 30. Schatz, op. cit., 46. 31. See Martin L. Kilson, "Authoritarian and Single-Party Tendencies in African Politics," in World Politics 15 (Princeton 1963) 2 6 2 - 2 9 4 ; also Christopher Allen, "Sierra Leone," in Dunn (ed.), op. cit., 196-200, where authoritarianism is identified as the political strategy of a "dependent bourgeoisie." 32. José Nun, " T h e Middle-Class Military Coup," in Claudio Veliz (ed.), The Politics of Conformity in Latin America (London 1967), 112. 33. Michael F. Lofchie, "The Political Origins of the Uganda Coup," in Journal of African Studies 1, 4 (Los Angeles Winter 1974), 4 8 9 - 4 9 2 . 34. Federal Republic of Nigeria, Report of the Constitution Drafting Committee, Vols. I and / / ( L a g o s 1976).

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3 5 . J o e l D . B a r k a n , An African Dilemma: university students, development and politics in Ghana, Tanzania and Uganda (Nairobi and London 1975), 1 8 7 - 1 8 9 . A s i m i l a r f i n d i n g , d e r i v e d f r o m a s a m p l e s u r v e y o f u n i v e r s i t y s t u d e n t s in N i g e r i a , is r e p o r t e d b y P a u l B e c k e t t a n d J a m e s O ' C o n n e l l , Education and Power in Nigeria (London 1977), 1 6 8 - 1 6 9 . 3 6 . S e e O s s o w s k i , op. cit., 1 8 5 - 1 8 6 . F o r a s i m i l a r e n u m e r a t i o n o f " o b j e c t i v e c l a s s c o n c e p t s " i n c l u d i n g p o w e r , d e f i n e d " a s the a b i l i t y to a f f e c t t h e i i f e c h a n c e s of o t h e r s , or c o n v e r s e l y a s t h e a m o u n t o f f r e e d o m f r o m c o n t r o l b y o t h e r s , " s e e S e y m o u r M a r t i n L i p s e t , " I s s u e s in S o c i a l C l a s s A n a l y s i s , " in Revolution and Counterrevolution (Garden City 1970, revised edn.), 1 9 1 - 1 9 2 . 3 7 . K a r l M a r x a n d F r i e d r i c h E n g e l s , Manifesto of the Communist Party ( 1 8 4 8 ) , E n g l i s h e d n . e d i t e d by E n g e l s ( 1 8 8 8 ) . 3 8 . I a n C l e g g , Workers' Self-Management in Algeria (New York and London 1 9 7 1 ) ; a n d I s s a G . S h i v j i , Class Struggles in Tanzania ( N e w Y o r k a n d L o n d o n 1 9 7 6 ) . 3 9 . R e n é D u m o n t , False Start in Africa, translated by Phyllis N a u t s Ott ( N e w York 1 9 6 9 , 2 n d r e v i s e d e d n . ) , 8 1 ; a n d F r a n t z F a n o n , The Wretched of the Earth, t r a n s lated b y C o n s t a n c e F a r r i n g t o n ( N e w Y o r k 1 9 6 8 e d n . ) , 1 7 9 . 4 0 . S h i v j i ' s i d e n t i f i c a t i o n of t h e " b u r e a u c r a t i c b o u r g e o i s i e " a s a c l a s s is g u a r d e d but u n m i s t a k a b l e ; op. cit., 8 5 - 9 4 . D e f i n i n g t h e b o u r g e o i s i e a s a c l a s s in f u n c t i o n a l t e r m s , he w r i t e s of a " c l a s s s t r u g g l e " b e t w e e n t h e " b u r e a u c r a t i c b o u r g e o i s i e " ( o r i g i nally a s e c t i o n of t h e " p e t t y b o u r g e o i s i e " ) a n d t h e " c o m m e r c i a l b o u r g e o i s i e ; " ibid., 6 7 - 7 7 a n d 94. 4 1 . S a m i r A m i n , Accumulation on a World Scale, Vols. I and II, t r a n s l a t e d b y Brian Pearce ( N e w York 1974), 3 7 4 - 3 7 5 and 384. 4 2 . J. P h . P e e m a n s , " T h e S o c i a l a n d E c o n o m i c D e v e l o p m e n t o f Z a i r e s i n c e I n d e p e n d e n c e : an h i s t o r i c a l o u t l i n e , " in African Affairs 7 4 , 2 9 5 ( L o n d o n A p r i l 1 9 7 5 ) , 163. 4 3 . C o l i n L e y s , Underdevelopment in Kenya: the political economy of neo-colomalism, 1964-1971 (Berkeley and Los A n g e l e s 1974), 1 9 3 - 1 9 8 . 4 4 . Ibid., 119, 1 4 7 , 1 6 9 , 1 9 6 , a n d 2 5 7 . 4 5 . R i c h a r d L . S k l a r , Corporate Power in an African State: the political impact of multinational mining companies in Zambia ( B e r k e l e y and L o s A n g e l e s 1975), 1 9 8 - 1 9 9 . F o r an e a r l i e r u s e of t h e t e r m " m a n a g e r i a l b o u r g e o i s i e " a s a s y n o n y m f o r t h e dominant "managerial elite," see Arthur Tuden and Leonard Plotnicov, "Introduction," in T u d e n a n d P l o t n i c o v ( e d s . ) , Social Stratification in Africa ( N e w Y o r k 1 9 7 0 ) , 2 1 . 4 6 . M a r k o v i t z , op. cit., 2 0 8 - 2 0 9 . 47. M a r k o v i t z s u g g e s t s that m y c o n c e p t i o n of the " m a n a g e r i a l b o u r g e o i s i e " u n d e r e s t i m a t e s the e n t r e p r e n e u r i a l c a p a c i t y of " a s c e n d i n g " c l a s s e s in A f r i c a ; ibid., 2 1 0 . I d o n o t t h i n k that h e h a s c o r r e c t l y i n t e r p r e t e d t h e p a s s a g e in m y b o o k q u o t e d a b o v e . S i n c e I d o not s e e a n y s i g n i f i c a n t s u b s t a n t i v e d i f f e r e n c e b e t w e e n h i s " o r g a n i z a tional" and m y " m a n a g e r i a l " b o u r g e o i s i e (although I w o u l d question the inclusion of " t r a d i t i o n a l r u l e r s a n d t h e i r d e s c e n d a n t s " in all b u t a r e l a t i v e l y f e w c a r e f u l l y s e l e c t e d i n s t a n c e s ) , it m a t t e r s little to m e w h i c h t e r m is u s e d . I l i k e the t e r m " m a n a g e r i a l " b e c a u s e it is s p e c i f i c a l l y r e m i n i s c e n t of the b u s i n e s s t r a d i t i o n . F o r a s i m i l a r c o n c e p t u a l i z a t i o n of t h e d o m i n a n t c l a s s in M i d d l e E a s t e r n s o c i e t i e s , s e e Bill, loc. cit., 4 2 7 ^ 3 4 , a l t h o u g h he d o e s not a d o p t t h e t e r m " b o u r g e o i s i e . " 4 8 . F o r an e x a m p l e o f t h i s o c c u p a t i o n a l - f u n c t i o n a l b i n d , s e e B o n n i e C a m p b e l l ' s r e b u t t a l of M i c h a e l A . C o h e n ' s c o n t e n t i o n in Urban Policy and Political Conflict in Africa ( C h i c a g o and L o n d o n 1974), 41, that a " p o l i t i c o - a d m i n i s t r a t i v e c l a s s " has b e c o m e d o m i n a n t in t h e I v o r y C o a s t . F o l l o w i n g S a m i r A m i n , C a m p b e l l i d e n t i f i e s t h e " p l a n t e r b o u r g e o i s i e " a s t h e d o m i n a n t c l a s s ; loc. cit., 7 3 , 8 9 , a n d 2 2 9 , f n . 6. 49.

S e e C h a p t e r 7 t h i s b o o k , p p . 1 5 5 - 1 5 7 , a n d C h a p t e r 4.

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50. See Ruth First, The Barrel of a Gun: political power in Africa and the coup d'état (London 1970), 255-257. 51. Michael F. Lofchie, "The Uganda Coup—Class Action by the Military," in The Journal of Modem African Studies, 10, 1 (May 1972), 19-35. For an interesting debate on this question, see the comments by John D. Chick and Irving Gershenberg, in ibid., 10, 4 (December 1972), 6 3 4 - 6 3 9 ; and Lofchie's response, "The Political Origins of the Uganda Coup," loc. cit. 52. M. Tamarkin, "The Roots of Political Stability in Kenya," in African Affairs, 77, 308 (July 1978), 297-320. 53. Jean Leca, "Algerian Socialism: nationalism, industrialization, and statebuilding," in Helen Desfosses and Jacques Levesque (eds.), Socialism in the Third World (New York 1975), 141. 54. Sklar, op. cit., 211-212. 55. Ibid., 201, 207, and 209. 56. Richard L. Sklar, "Postimperialism: a class analysis of multinational corporate expansion," in Comparative Politics 9,1 (New York October 1976), 75-92. 57. The political basis of class formation in Africa has been emphasized by Robin Cohen, "Class in Africa: analytical problems and perspectives," in Ralph Miliband and John Saville (eds.), The Socialist Register, 1972 (London 1972), 2 3 1 - 2 5 5 . However, Cohen appears to underestimate the resourcefulness and potential strength of emerging dominant classes, which could be a consequence of the distinction that he draws between the ruling "political class" and the "intendant class" of "state functionaries, middle-level bureaucrats and supervisory personnel;" ibid., 247-250. 58. Samir Amin may deserve pride of place for his exposition of this viewpoint; see his Unequal Development and Accumulation on a World Scale. The influence of André Gunder Frank should also be noted; see, for example, his Lumpenbourgeoisie, Lumpendevelopment: dependence, class, and politics in Latin America, ITS. by M. D. Berdecio (New York and London 1972). 59. For a socialist analysis of bourgeois tendencies in non-industrial countries under avowedly revolutionary leadership, see Gérard Chaliand, Revolution in the Third World: myths and prospects, translated by Diana Johnstone (Harmondsworth 1978 edn.). The degradation of socialist thought and practice under a tyrannical dictatorship in Guinea has been described with brilliant clarity by Lansiné Kaba, "The Cultural Revolution, Artistic Creativity, and Freedom of Expression in Guinea," in The Journal of Modern African Studies, 14, 2 (June 1976), 201-218, and "Guinean Politics: a critical overview," in ibid., 15, 1 (March 1977), 25-45. See also Claude Rivière, Guinea: the mobilization of a people (Ithaca 1977), and R. W. Johnson, "Guinea," in Dunn (ed.), op. cit., 36-65.

Ill DEMOCRACY AND DEVELOPMENT

11 Second Beginnings: The New Political Framework in Nigeria C. S. Whitaker

The focus of any discussion of Nigeria at this time in its history is the outlook for success of its recently reconstituted democratic political system. Equally in question should be the validity of external assessments of the Nigerian political situation, some of which in the past have tended, I believe, to rest on misunderstandings of Nigerian politics. Widely heralded in 1960—independence year—as a testing-ground of democratic capacity in Africa, Nigeria subsequently experienced a serious breakdown of civil order, partisan rejection of constitutional arrangements, several coups d'état, civil war, and out of a total of five heads of state, the assassination of three and the exile of a fourth. Gross idealization of Nigeria's democratic prospects gave way to deep despair. Perhaps both extremes of attitude stemmed from the same naive conception of political development in Nigeria as a straightforward (if troubled) process of transfer of institutions from Western to African settings. Hence, the fate of Nigerian democracy has tended to be weighed on the heavy scales of inevitability, as either bound to emerge or doomed to fail, with the latter judgment in ascendancy. More tentative appraisals based explicitly on contingent factors and problematic conditions have been less common, perhaps because such calibrations always seem elusive in unfamiliar historical and cultural contexts. Since October 1, 1979, following thirteen years of military rule, Nigeria has again been governed within a democratic framework. The new arrangements include a popularly and nationally elected president and vice-president, governors, and legislative representation based on the recent expansion of the number of states from twelve to nineteen (originally there were only three), and five distinct and competitive political parties, all operating under a newly devised Federal Constitution. Just prior to that date, a series of five elections to the various representative offices were conducted with apparent tranquility. Notwithstanding the last-minute emergence of an unfortunate point of contention over a crucial presidential electoral provision, the results also appeared to enjoy wide Originally published in Issue 11, 1/2 (Spring - Summer 1981), 1-13. Reprinted by permission of the author and the African Studies Association.

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approval. These processes were not unmarred by traces of Nigeria's unstable past, however, nor is the future of the democratic system fully assured in the face of current political controversies. The fate of the system seems less a matter of structural defect than it has in the past, however; it is in fact a premise of the Second Republic that institutional architecture is a key to democratic viability. It seems useful, therefore, to consider the relative efficacy of the institutional frameworks of the First and Second Republics. This may also provide some clue as to the prospects of democratic stability. Whatever the outcome, these second beginnings in Nigeria deserve careful consideration and, I believe, considerable respect. On one level they represent the culmination of a transfer of military power to civilian leadership through a four-year process of national consultation, deliberation, and participation unprecedented in such situations. Still more impressively, the new framework of Nigerian government indicates a continuing attempt to negotiate the foundations of political order through consensus, under social, economic, and historical conditions that many are convinced cannot be managed without authoritarian rule. If to these considerations there is added the likelihood that, as a sponsor of the new system, the military may be sitting in judgment over its success, then it may be understood why the current political scene in Nigeria is dramatic and tense. Fully to appreciate the important role of institutional features it would be necessary to delve into the political traumas of Nigeria's past. Here, we can only highlight events and offer a concise analysis. The drift of this analysis can be seen in several conclusions drawn from a review of the post-independence period about what seem not to have been the sources of instability (despite suggestions to the contrary). Thus, neither economic nor political ideology, nor religion, nor external state relations, nor tribalism (at least not in the sense of natural ethnic hostility) were responsible, in my view, for the collapse of the old republic. I also think that none of these factors is likely to play a decisive part in the future. I do think that the substance of past bitterness in Nigerian politics centered around issues of (1) political structure; (2) social representation and equity; and (3) cultural integrity and security, which in context interacted explosively with the institutional framework that had been provided. (I am aware, of course, that placing such heavy emphasis on structural considerations may run counter to modes of interpretation that presuppose irreconcilable social formations to be predetermining Nigeria's political fate.) A third conclusion is that to the extent that this analysis is valid, there are sound g r o u n d s f o r believing that the foundations of Nigerian democracy have been strengthened by the intervening reconstruction of institutions, and, accordingly, that at least short-term stability is probable. (For other thoughts, see "Conclusion," below.)

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FOCUS OF ANALYSIS The historic p r o b l e m areas of Nigerian politics may be indicated under four closely related headings: (1) constitutional concept and federal structure; (2) regional power; (3) party competition and party structure; and (4) military intervention. Constitutional

Concept and Federal

Structure

Nigeria at independence presented the classic picture of the ex-colonial state whose constitutional f o r m s were designed to satisfy the terms of colonial withdrawal rather than to cope effectively with the realities of its own political conditions. R e c o g n i t i o n of this truth and the c o n s e q u e n t necessity of reconstructing the Nigerian Constitution inspired the late General Muríala M o h a m m e d ' s c h a r g e to the d r a f t e r s of the p r e s e n t C o n s t i t u t i o n in 1975: "While it is evident that s o m e of our difficulties m a y have been created by political leaders w h o opposed the Constitution, it is clear that s o m e of the provisions of the C o n s t i t u t i o n facilitated the p e r i o d i c political crisis this country went through." Prior to independence, Nigeria's leaders were constrained to accept the wishful premises that nearly pure British f o r m s of Western liberal government were sufficiently suited to Nigeria's needs, and/or that the spontaneous evolution of social forces could be relied upon eventually to reconcile transparent discrepancies of history. (Such w a s the conclusion of the British-composed 1958 Minorities Commission Report.) At the same time, the boundaries used to erect the N i g e r i a n f e d e r a l s t r u c t u r e — f o r w h i c h the British political model provided no precedent—had been devised by the British colonial administration wholly for purposes of British control. Sound principles of representation certainly were not a m o n g the criteria on which the British relied in m o l d i n g the political m a p of N i g e r i a . Structural c o n t r a d i c t i o n s abounded: most notably the anomaly that the Northern segment was larger than all the others put together yet w a s also the poorest, educationally most disadvantaged, and least-prepared culturally to engage in the secular games of modern democratic politics. This situation was a legacy to the postindependence era. Not surprisingly, the question not of whether but of how the constitution should be transformed almost immediately b e c a m e a central controversy of p o s t i n d e p e n d e n c e politics. Severe disagreement over constitutional f u n d a mentals is usually n o promoter of political stability, and the case of Nigeria is in no way an exception. Each major party to the "independence compact" had good reason to question its acceptability. Within a short time they had all repudiated one or more of its central provisions. T h e e s s e n c e of the d o c t r i n e e m b o d i e d in the Minorities C o m m i s s i o n Report was that the impact of this derivative constitution, with its emphasis on winner-take-all constituencies, f r e e play of political party competition, and

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constitutionally sanctioned drives to socioeconomic development, would be to engender Nigerian national loyalty and integration. It would accomplish that by stimulating politically profitable, culturally and socioeconomically cross-cutting collaborations among Nigeria's several and powerful "nations" within the nation—or so it was held. The result was almost the opposite of these expectations. In practice, the rules of the Western liberal system combined with the realities of the profoundly plural nature of Nigeria's social makeup to promote increasingly destructive forces of regional political rivalry and, ultimately, to engender enmity. 1 Before indicating how innovations introduced in the new Nigerian Constitution are designed to counter these tendencies, some of the main features of this bitter regionalism, and the dynamics of the unrestrained political party competition that came with it, should be noted. Regional

Power

Ostensibly, the original tripartite pattern of Nigerian political regionalism reflected a genuine diversity of geo-political and cultural sections. In the vast North, the majority Hausa-Fulani people sustain Islam-influenced social institutions, including political structures that are deeply hierarchical, authoritycentered, bureaucratic, and ascriptive (emphasis on birth and social continuity). Their degree of assimilation of the colonially induced "civilization" was highly limited—ironically, in part by colonial intent, that is, by the principle of indirect rule. In the West, the majority Yoruba, by contrast, are roughly divided between Moslems and Christians, and are politically devoted to principles of limited monarchy and consultative elites. Their penetration by colonial currents was early and intense. Still further in contrast to both groups, the Ibo of the East, also numerically predominant in their area, eschew centralized authority altogether in favor of a network of segmented units that endorse egalitarian social principles and aggressive individual initiative. Thus, their attitude toward Western acculturative change is often perceived to be aggressively opportunistic. In addition, a great number of large, medium, and small "minority" ethnic groups (in proportion to the three largest groups), with varying features of social and political organization, together comprise roughly half the total Nigerian population. Their cultures have sometimes been besieged by the major groups. These differentiations were not, let it be reemphasized, of themselves the cause of regionalism as a political force, much less of virulent regional conflict. For the roots of that condition one must look to the implications of the incorporation of these " m a j o r i t y " and "minority" peoples into a national structure (the Nigerian Federation) that channeled and rewarded collective pursuit (party competition) of expanding national resources. Since each of these sections immediately experienced acute apprehension

NEW FRAMEWORK IN NIGERIA

231

of sociopolitical domination by another, the hallmark, up to 1962, of all these groups was insularity rather than expansiveness, notwithstanding mutual recriminations that each harbored a will to dominate the whole. The essential parochialism of this era was abetted by distribution of constitutional powers that placed the regional units of the original Federation in a decisive position. 2 Furthermore, because social and political legitimacy inhered only in the subnational cultures and as they came under the residual control of the regional (Federal) units, these units in turn constitutionally controlled the ultimate sources of political legitimacy. Moreover, regional direction of commodity marketing boards, from which ample sums for public-development projects, commercial undertakings, and individual loans were indirectly derived and dispensed, represented a powerful nexus of political patronage, influence, discipline, and allegiance-—all at the disposal of the regional regimes. For a share of the dispensations, minority groups had no choice but to look to these regimes. The inward emphasis of regional power before 1962 was clearly reflected in the organization, methods of internal governance, campaign tactics, programs, and major interests of all the political parties through the decade after 1952. The results of the 1959 "independence" election appeared to institutionalize regional chauvinism. From independence on, however, the logic of expanding national governmental power and resources dictated that the same fears that had promoted regional insularity would now induce the very hegemonic ambitions that were all along dreaded by all concerned. I believe the climax of this generalized anxiety occurred with the opportunity to devastate if not eliminate the Action Group, when in 1962 that party suffered internal fission. Thereafter it became impossible in Nigeria for any real difference to exist between perceptions of regional power and calculations of national dominance. Moreover, the government's use of a variety of thinly constitutional justifications to decimate a political party thoroughly discredited the liberal political game. Party Competition

and Party

Structure

Another way to focus clearly on what had gone wrong in Nigeria is to ask why in that environment political party competition failed to have the beneficial effects expected of it. In theory, i.e., in terms of the supposed lessons of Western experience, conditions of social pluralism are expected to stimulate political parties to act as agents of an integrative process involving brokering, bargaining, compromise, problem-solving, negotiation, coalescence, and like activities indicative of a conflict-resolving process. A key to the puzzle may be that the pluralism in question in Nigeria was of a different character from that contemplated by the theory. Another clue may lie in the virtually synergistic combination of party competition, regionalism, and ethnic nationalism, as they operated in the Nigerian circumstances. The crux of the matter appears to be that what started out as political

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D E M O C R A C Y & DEVELOPMENT

competition rapidly deteriorated into political enmity. The notion that the combination of social pluralism and democratic competition automatically produces politically stabilizing and integrative results seems, on reflection, highly likely to be fallacious reasoning in the Nigerian case. Nigerian pluralism is not merely a matter of social heterogeneity or diversity—concepts that presuppose the presence of countervailing sources of common cause or heritage. On the contrary, the kinds of differences I have noted above, especially between the "majority" groups, support inherently separatist inclinations. That is not to say, of course, that these groups are inherently incompatible within possible structures, but it does strongly suggest that more than liberal idealizations of politics as competition are necessary to the viability of such structures. The very notion of competition implies accepted ground-rules (constitutional consensus), a common audience (a national electorate), universal performances (national campaigns), and standard evaluations (equal access to votes). Not one of these essentials was realized in the old Nigerian system, which, on the contrary, encouraged parties to mobilize support by almost any means necessary from a basis of fundamental cleavage among the groups in contention. The sheer logic of political mobilization in these circumstances induced parties to rely on endowed sources of ethnic cohesion for purposes of support and competitive advantage. Inter-regionally, ethnic mobilizations satisfied the conditions of effective entry into the arena of national politics; it was literally the price of admission. Intra-regionally, the ethnic emphasis guaranteed the security of a defensive base against the vicissitudes of the national struggle. There thus arose an equation between hegemony or dominance within a region and competitiveness on the national scene. Whatever else it may entail, the shift from situations of competition to those of enmity involves changing perceptions among the adversaries. Where competition envisages limited conflict, restraint, live-and-let-live, and outward appeal, enmity is all about victors and vanquished, no-holds-barred, and impregnable garrisons of allegiance. The more the Nigerian parties followed the logic of effective competitive political mobilization, the more they were also inducing the conditions of enmity. Perhaps the cutting edge of this contradiction was the challenge of crossregional penetration of one party into the geographical and cultural redoubt of another. The logic of competition dictated that the attempt be made. Success exacerbated fears of group exclusion from the national scene and complete surrender of power at the regional level. The ultimate anxiety was not so much winner-take-all as loser-forfeit-all. Failure to penetrate, on the other hand, generated frustration at the inability to improve one's competitive position. Paradoxically, too, the more the system engendered these negative experiences, the more were anger and disillusionment directed toward the very constitutional settlement that designed

TABLE 11.1

Results of the Nigerian Federal Election 1959

Party

Total Votes Nationwide

% of Total Votes Cast

Seats Won

NCNC-NEPU Allliance NPC Action Group Minor parties and independents

2,592,629 2,027,194 1,986,839 578,893

36.1 28.2 27.6 8.1

89 134 73 16

1,246,984 445,144 237,626

64.6 23.1 12.3

58 14 1 1

933,680 758,462 162,107 32,960

49.5 40.2 8.6 1.7

33 21 8

Eastern Region NCNC-NEPU Alliance Action Group Minor parties and independents Niger Delta Congress (NPC Ally)

Western Region Action Group NCNC-NEPU Alliance Minor parties, independents NPC Ibadan Mabolaje

—

7

Northern Region NPC Action Group-UMBC Others Independents (NPC Allies)

1,994,045 559,878 179,022

61.2 17.2 5.5

134 25 7 6

61,608 48,137 189 138

55.9 43.8 0.2 0.1

2 1

Lagos NCNC Action Group NPC Others

— —

the situation. The more the Constitution lost acceptance, the more virulent was the perception of relations; and so on, moving ever deeper into the cycle of enmity. Within the existing constitutional f o r m s , m o r e o v e r , only more effective mobilization of ethnic group power offered any prospect of change. Table 11.1 r e f l e c t s the a m b i v a l e n c e , in these terms, of the results of Nigerian electioneering in 1959. N o party really achieved a national following, and none of them escaped threats to their regional base of security. Military

Intervention

Notwithstanding the merits of ethnic mobilization as a means of acquiring and securing power in the contexts of the Federal structure and the g a m e of party competition, the impact of the same logic on the overall legitimacy and p e r f o r m a n c e of national government was bound to be more or less disastrous. D e v o i d by virtue of its c o l o n i a l origins of any historical legitimacy, any

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Nigerian national regime would face seemingly inexorable conditions of pervasive poverty, gross inequality and inequity, parochial leadership, and an acute susceptibility to corruption and nepotism that was to a certain extent implicit in the means to power. These conditions all militated against the ability of national government to acquire legitimacy of its own. Worse from the standpoint of stability, an ever-growing list of popular grievances that naturally accompanied the dismal and demoralized performance of national government (detailed in a plethora of studies, foreign and domestic) tended to be crystallized into ethnic-group agitations touching on the political structure itself. Hence, a "minorities" demand for creation of new states (logically conceived of as offering opportunities for greater group equity), f o r e x a m p l e , became a touchstone of the politics of the First Republic. The more that grievance and agitation were resolved into structural issues, however, the more threatened became those whose interests were now vested in the system (especially majority groups, but also certain business interests). Of course, the elites of all groups were implicated more than others. One way or another in this situation of limited options, elites of all stripes found themselves alternately in the roles of exploiters or orchestrators of the attendant conflicts, notwithstanding aspirations some of them no doubt had to build a strong Nigerian nation. The problems of regional governments essentially mirrored those of the national government, with the difference that repression, when it was exercised, often assumed a more severely intolerant and violent form. Clearly, the stage was set for the arrival of a man (or men) on horseback. Nigeria's version of a praetorian mission to purge, reform, unify, and modernize hardly bestowed immunity from the realities and currents of Nigerian problems and conflicts. On the contrary, in all that has been written and analyzed on the subject of military intervention and performance in the thirteen years following the first coup d'état the recurrent theme emerges of the military's enmeshment in the wider dilemmas and characteristic proclivities of the civilian regime that went before. On the score of continuity and stability alone the military record does not compare favorably—but that is only a surface indication of the limitations military administration displayed in confronting Nigeria's difficulties. There was, in the first place, the point (common perhaps to many Third World military regimes) that the usual praetorian claims to superiority of legitimacy were simply not plausible in the Nigerian case. The Nigerian military did not form a vanguard of a middle class; it was not a repository of higher technical and managerial talent; neither did it represent an organizational entity that induced transcendence of considerations of ethnic affiliation and interests. And its lack of internal cohesion was notorious. S o far as the role of agent of economic and social modernization was concerned, any real justification was a matter of prospects rather than acceptance. Having scattered the ashes of the old order, on one hand, and rejected

NEW FRAMEWORK IN NIGERIA

235

the possibilities of spontaneous change on the other, successive Nigerian military regimes were to a large extent left dependent upon the legitimacies alive within the fabric of the ethnic communities. Their ability to manipulate and contain them rather than to displace them w a s crucial. In this respect they were not better off than their predecessors had been. The first, initiating (Nzeogwu) coup was stillborn. Among other limitations, it appeared to have expected, apocalyptically, that destruction of the old order would itself produce basic change. It was all vision and no program. The second, consolidationist coup-within-a-coup of Ironsi was not much longer-lived and ultimately proved as vulnerable as the first to the accusation by other segments of the military that it was ethnically inspired. Although it indeed launched the glimmerings of a program (notably, abolition of the Federal units and national unification of the civil service), that action served only to demonstrate that military will was insufficient to force nullification of the independence compact. It also served to confirm that if basic changes were to be successful they could not resemble too closely the partisan program of a particular pre-coup political party or alienate the North. The problems of the Gowon regime, once it had gotten beyond successful prosecution of the civil war itself, took somewhat longer to unfold but were just as rooted in dilemmas of entrenched structure, change, and legitimacy. Gowon's own selection as head of state had in fact been the result of negotiations among factions of the military that were at least in part ethnically conceived. In terms of military norms his very elevation was irregular and unsettling (he was a subordinate officer). Furthermore, the very convoluted circumstances of the military rise to power had made for a certain ambivalence in defining the role of his government. (Originally, remnants of the old civilian cabinet had "invited in" the military after other military assassinations of the top civilian leadership.) As a result, his mandate was profoundly equivocal. Thus, on one hand there was the stamp of a "caretaker" mission, reflecting a promise to restore Nigerian democracy at an early date. On the other hand there was the more strictly praetorian projection of being a "corrective" regime dedicated to structural reforms beyond the capacity of civilian politicians to accomplish. In these terms, the performance of the Gowon regime may have been doomed from the start to fall between stools. It was in any case neither convincingly corrective—as it proceeded to temporize on v i r t u a l l y every m a j o r area of r e f o r m — n o r p l a u s i b l y f i d u c i a r y — a s the announced deadlines for the resumption of civilian rule receded. Among the measures temporized were the census of 1973, which was eventually renounced; the persistent creation-of-more-states issue; demobilization of the army; revenue reallocation; and action against a host of administrative deficiencies and abuses. Out of a nine-point program of reconstruction at least six were aborted. Eventually others, notably others in the military but also extending to a wide spectrum of opinion, saw these failures as intrinsic in the regime.

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DEMOCRACY & DEVELOPMENT

I believe the root of the difficulties lay in the regime's uncertain relationship to the sources of Nigerian social power: it simply lacked the political traction to take charge. Perhaps this was in part because to have done so would have meant assuming an unacceptable burden of office for Gowon personally. Probably more important at bottom, however, was that Gowon, an essentially compromise military choice as head of state, felt unable to extend his own implicit mandate to uphold and to balance rather than to govern the interest of the various ethnic communities (and other vested groups). The revelation of the regime's true character w a s undoubtedly the performance of the state governors, w h o came to rival in corruption and arrogance the most extreme negative image of the old regional style of civilian politics, although that style seems to have been alien to Gowon himself. Surely, in this sense Gowon represented one kind of casualty of praetorian limitations in Nigeria. THE MAKING OF A NEW FRAMEWORK Although with hindsight Gowon's overthrow may seem to have been in the cards, it is doubtful that anyone foresaw the role and impact of Murtala Mohammed in the brief six months before his assassination. In any case, this period must be noted as a dramatic Nigerian political watershed. There is not space enough here to discuss the personal qualities and inspirations of Mohammed, except to say that by any reckoning they must be weighed in the historic balance of influences that permitted the assumption of new political directions in Nigeria. In time, a similar assessment may be made in relation to the outgoing head of state and the very small circle of military and civilian personalities who have presided over the present transition to a new order in Nigerian representative government. What can be said with some confidence is that the essence of the new political framework, in marked contrast to the old, is the decisive conviction that a deeply consultative process of political reconstruction offered the hope not so much of restoring legitimacy to national institutions as of creating it for the first time. The new framework of democracy that was put in motion cannot be said to have been primarily the product of pressures to emulate Western experience. On the contrary, the greatest significance of both the new Constitution and of certain crucial supplementary administrative measures that together are the foundation of the new framework is that their primary point of historic reference is Nigerian experience. Furthermore, they bear an imprimatur of broad, tentative, Nigerian approval. These were more important influences than the American model. The crux of this new departure is a machine of representation that is deliberately designed to break the destructive association between competitive party politics and disintegrative tendencies. The particular devices of the new machinery have already been widely commented upon in the press and

237

N E W F R A M E W O R K IN NIGERIA

in academic circles. Highlights include the introduction of an executive presidency that along with a vice-presidential office must be won through electoral rules which stipulate that the winning candidates must receive not only the highest single number of votes nationally but also 25 percent of the votes cast in two-thirds of the nineteen Nigerian states in a first balloting; failing that, they must be selected by an electoral college involving all the national and state representative legislative bodies. The provision was intended to make becoming president of Nigeria impossible without a critical mass of inter-regional support. Equally central to this structure was the administrative creation, decreed earlier, of nineteen states whose boundaries cut across the geographical and cultural redoubts of the "majority" ethnic nations. The area of innovation that occasioned the boldest strokes, however, was that of constitutional regulation of political parties. Provisions extend so far as to prescribe a minimum ethnic mix in the internal party structure of governance. Furthermore, the main source of party campaign finances is the government, which empowers a strong Electoral Commission to set limits on expenditure as well as on conduct. Membership in all parties must be open to all Nigerians irrespective of place of origin or religion. Only parties that meet these and other stringent requirements may be registered. T A B L E 11.2

State

1 9 7 9 Presidential B a l l o t i n g b y States

Total

Waziri

Awolowo

Shagiri

Kano

Azikiwe

Votes

(GNPP)

(UPN)

(NPN)

(PRP)

(NPP)

Cast

(%)

(%)

(%)

(%)

(%)

1,209,038

1.67

0.75

13.50

1.20

82.88

Bauchi

998,683

16.44

3.00

62.48

14.34

4.74

Bendel

669,511

1.20

53.20

36.20

0.70

8.60

Benue

538,879

7.97

2.57

76.38

1.35

11.77

Borno

710,968

54.04

3.35

34.71

6.52

1.35

Cross Rivers

661,103

15.14

11.76

64.40

1.01

7.66

Anambra

Gongola

639,138

34.09

21.67

35.52

4.34

4.35

Imo

1,153,355

3.00

0.64

8.80

0.89

84.69

Kaduna

1,382,712

14.00

7.00

43.00

31.00

5.00

Kano

1,195,136

1.54

1.23

19.94

76.41

0.91

Kwara

354,605

5.71

37.48

53.62

0.67

0.52

Lagos

828,414

0.48

83.30

7.18

0.47

9.57

Niger

383,347

16.60

3.67

74.88

3.77

1.11

Ogun

744,668

0.53

92.61

6.23

9.31

0.32

Ondo

1,384,788

0.26

94.50

4.19

0.18

0.86

Oyo

1,396,547

0.57

85.78

12.75

0.32

0.55

548,405

6.82

5.29

34.73

3.98

49.70 14.35

Plateau Rivers

687,951

2.18

10.33

72.65

0.46

Sokoto

1,348,697

26.61

2.52

66.58

3.33

0.92

16,846,633

10.01

29.18

33.77

10.28

16.75

Total

TABLES 11.3, 11.4

Results of Elections to House of Representatives, 1959 & 1979 TABLE 11.3

Total number of seats won by each party in each region, 1959 (%) Region

NPC/(NPN)

Eastern Western Lagos Northern

— — —

80.24

AG/(UPN)

NEPU/NCNC (PRP/NPP)

19.44 61.11 33.33 14.97

80.56 38.89 66.67 4.79

Total number of seats won by each party in each region, 1979 (GNPP excluded, %) Region Eastern Western Lagos Northern

NPN

UPN

PRP/NPP

38.30 10.50

2.08 87.20 100.00 6.55

59.70 2.10

—

59.97

—

33.40

PRP — —

NPP 59.70 2.10

—

—

24.28

8.92

Total number of seats won by each party in each region, 1979 (GNPP included, %) Region Eastern Western Lagos Northern

NPN

UPN

PRP

NPP

GNPP

36.63 10.40 0.00 50.82

1.98 86.32 100.00 5.46

0.00 0.00 0.00 20.58

57.43 2.08 0.00 7.56

3.96 1.04 0.00 16.34

TABLE 11.4 Total number of votes won by each party in each region, 1959 (%) Region

NPC/(NPN)

Eastern Western Lagos Northern

—

1.7 0.3 61.2

AG/(UPN)

NEPU/NCNC (PRP/NPP)

23.1 49.5 43.8 17.2

64.6 40.2 55.9 16.1

Total number of votes won by each presidential candidate of each party in each region, 1979 (%) Region Eastern Western Lagos Northern

NPN

UPN

PRP

NPP

42.19 14.84

6.22 85.52

0.94

50.24

7.18 61.72

82.30 10.80

0.38 0.47 17.92

2.58 9.57 9.89

PRP/NPP 51.18 2.96 10.04 27.81

239

TABLE 11.5

1979 Party Representation in All Elected Offices Total Number

NPN

UPN

NPP

PRP

GNPP

Senate 95 449 House of Representatives 1,347 House of Assembly Governors 19

36 168 487 7

28 111 335 5

16 79 220 3

7 49 138 2

8 48 164 2

Total

698

479

318

196

222

Total%

1,913 100

36.29

24.91

16.54

10.19

11.54

In effect, the Constitution ethnically federalizes internally any party licensed to compete, m a k i n g it—if f a i t h f u l l y i m p l e m e n t e d — s e e m i n g l y impossible for legal parties to function as anti-ethnic group organizations, much less to promote enmity. THE 1979 ELECTIONS The results of the first election under these new constitutional prescriptions are contained in Tables 11.2 through 11.5. Not surprisingly, the results of the 1979 elections show that ethnicity is still a potent factor in Nigerian electoral politics (as it is in many other democracies). Thus, for example, in the presidential contest in their ethnic home states the five candidates scored percentages of 94.5 (Awolowo), 82.88 (Azikiwe), 76.41 (Kano), 66.58 (Shagari), and 54.04 (Waziri). A much lower but still marked degree of ethnic identification characterized voting in the four subpresidential contests (gubernatorial, state assembly, Senate and House of Representatives). In terms of the analysis presented in this paper, however, the test of significant change is not alone or necessarily the raw factor of ethnic voter identification. Overall structural results of these elections are equally, if not more, important in these terms. Accordingly, several developments that appear to reflect movement in the structural dynamics of party competition in the direction of a more balanced distribution of national power (cross-ethnic support) and are indicative of less parochial strategies of contention include the following: • The running mate of each presidential candidate was from a cultural area, state, and region other than that of the presidential contender, including the vice president-elect; • No party won all the elected posts within its cultural area, state, or region;

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DEMOCRACY & DEVELOPMENT

• No party failed to win a significant number of votes outside its cultural area, state, or region; • No party scored a majority or plurality nationally merely by virtue of victory in its home cultural area, state, or region; • The categories of "elected unopposed" markedly declined, as did the phenomenon of "lost deposit" (i.e., failed to secure a required minimum number of votes); • Except for the PRP, all parties won at least 5 percent of the votes of all other regions; • One party (NPN) won 53.2 percent of its subpresidential votes outside its own region; • Each party won a significant number of subpresidential posts; put another way, no party was shut out from the offices of governor, state assemblyman, Senator, or Representative; • Out of a grand total of 1,910 subpresidential elected offices, no party received a total less than 10 percent or more than 36.5 percent; • Each of the five parties won control of the governorship in at least two states and of the State Assembly in at least one; • The Hausa-Fulani party (NPN) increased its share of the old Eastern vote from 0 to 33.61 percent and increased its share of the vote in the West and Lagos from 0 to 2 percent and 22.13 percent, respectively; while it suffered a decline in the percentage of the Northern vote, from 61 percent to 55.46 percent; • The Ibo Party (NPP) share of the old Eastern vote declined from 64 percent to 60.74 percent, although its share of the votes in other regions also declined, and more sharply; • Only the Yoruba party (UPN) can be said to have become, in these terms, more parochial since 1959, and even the UPN was arguably more national in other terms, e.g., program projection. 3 One other remarkable feature of the political architecture is the consolidation under the Constitution of transfer of national jurisdiction of many important functions and powers that were requisitioned by military decree over the previous thirteen years. 4 This transfer connotes a great deal more than the mere shift of administrative functions that occurred. Its deepest significance lies in the fact that those jurisdictional shifts constitute, in effect, an attempt to nationalize control of the sources of Nigerian social power. Thus, under the Second Republic, national institutions are assuming a greater burden of legitimacy than they had in the First Republic. One indication of this has been the highly sensitive move to link local government directly to the center, thus removing the manipulative advantages vis-à-vis local political cultures formerly enjoyed by the regions and states (this is not to say, however, that the National government will not manipulate them). A recent extension of this policy was that the National government announced it

NEW FRAMEWORK IN NIGERIA

241

would no longer disburse local government funds through the state treasuries, but would dispense them directly. S E C O N D R E P U B L I C POLITICS The acid test of the Second Republic, as was implicitly true also of the First, ultimately will be its capacity to sustain nonviolent transfers of power and in the interim to allow effective exercise of opposing powers at both state and local levels. I have suggested that the inability of the First Republic to pass such tests inhered partly in the tendency for all important political conflict to be resolved into structural antagonisms, pursued under the classic framework of pure constitutional p e r m i s s i v e n e s s . The innovative framework of the Second Republic has been traced to a determination to counteract the worst results of these arrangements. The question now arises whether in these terms the framework of the Second Republic is actually making any difference in the conduct of politics. On balance, I believe the experience to date suggests some positive but also mixed results. What matters most here is, of course, not the presence of conflict but its quality. One clear change that began with the 1979 elections has been the conspicuous cessation of reliance on anti-ethnic-group sentiments as a technique of party mobilization. Another change has been an increased emphasis on power-sharing as one of the principal inducements for party action. Third, although political parties in Nigeria have to a certain extent always had ethnically interlocking directorates, the trend has very much accelerated. Three of the five parties are led by persons ethnically identified with an opposing party. The exceptions are the UPN and GNPP, whose presidential candidate was the party leader himself, but they too strive for an ethnic mix of party notables in top positions. One G N P P governor went so far as to appoint " a l i e n s " to the sensitive positions of state attorney general, chief judge of the State High Court, and secretary to the governor—over the objections of party members. The move was an interesting test of the tacit GNPP alliance with the UPN. It is conceivable that these two parties may at some point unite in nominating a presidential candidate. T h e N P N has even declared a policy of what it calls zoning, i.e., alternating the geo-ethnic origin of its presidential and vice-presidential candidates from one election to the next—a bold promise that has drawn much attention and some skepticism. To the consternation of the national N P N party, the governors of nine of the twelve states in which other parties captured executive power have regularized a structure of political consultation and collaboration known as the Meetings of the Nine Progressive Governors; the nine were expanded ad hoc to twelve over the divisive revenue allocation issue (see below). Indeed, despite the operation at the center of an NPN/NPP governing coalition redolent of the old N P C / N C N C regime (in both Republics it has been called an

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accord—presumably referring to the spirit of cooperation, which is subject to constant review), the NPN has more than once found itself thwarted on issues by a breakdown of coalition legislative support (notably in the refusal of the Senate to approve the appointment of so-called PLO's—presidential liaison officers in each of the nineteen states, though they are there anyway, under constitutionally questionable auspices). Indeed assertion of legislative independence delayed formation of President Alhaji Shehu Shagari's cabinet for almost six months, a delay that underscored the need for power-sharing instead of rule by majority fiat. A striking reflection of new structural developments has been the bitter saga of the PRP, which almost immediately experienced an intra-party schism superficially reminiscent of the rupture of the Action Group two decades earlier. Having lost his bid for the presidency, Aminu Kano, leader of the PRP, naturally looked to the consolidation of party leadership and control as the next best foundation of national participation. At the same time, the two victorious PRP governors sought to extend their more militant populistic or socialistic appeal by forging an informal alliance with the ideologically kindred UPN under Awolowo, whose leadership Aminu Kano has consistently rejected. The result was a chaos of mutual expulsions from party membership and the emergence of two warring organizations, with other parties maneuvering to capitalize on the attendant fallout of power. In this situation the Aminu Kano organization, which was recognized as the legal or registered PRP, has been drawing closer to the governing NPN, while the alternative organization (which turns out to have the larger number of already elected representatives) is finding compensation in U P N and GNPP support. Meanwhile, the NPP has been experiencing shock waves of political realignment through the defection of party members who have cast their lots with the forces of the government party (if it were not that the Constitution forbids "cross-carpeting," the process might also have affected the party balance in the Assembly). The point is that every strong local political force in Nigeria today has an outlet on the national political stage. Another bellwether may be the present status of the recurrent issue of creation of new states. Under the First Republic, proposals to create additional states out of existing ones tended to be considered strictly in the light of subversion and secession by the party in whose domain the demand arose. This is no longer the case. Every new state movement has its national champions and critics, but none of them has to contend any longer with the determined o p p o s i n g might of the existing state, either locally or nationally (though they do face formidable constitutional barriers, as is usual in Federal arrangements). Examination of these and other political situations makes clear the presence of the conception of national power as the primary object and basis of state and local interests. The contrary conception pervaded the First Republic. The fact that the primary political force—UPN—in opposition to the present

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regime is directly in control of five states and indirectly very influential in four others leaves all forces with a substantial stake in the system, despite the presence of much tension among them. Whatever conflicts fuel these antagonisms (and oil money is a major source), none of the antagonists appears to suppose that reversion to ethnic mobilization will advance their cause, at least not within the system as constituted. (It is not clear, however, whether the system can yet tolerate a current census, the lack of which continues to be an indication of its fragility.) Put another way, the emphasis of the system now is on the assets each party and group brings to the game of national power, with these varying uncertainly in relevance and potential (i.e., the vast and still relatively cohesive Northern political culture and interregional business support, in the case of the NPN; farmer and worker grievances, in the case of the UPN and PRP; the effort to link these elements, in the case of the GNPP and NPP). In this game, primary ethnic identification is a given, but it is neither sufficient nor necessary to the competitive edge that is needed in order for a group to flourish. This all suggests an incipient but decisive process of change away from the fatal dynamics of the First Republic. Perhaps considerably less supportive of this analysis have been the sharp controversies over procedures involved in certification of Alhaji Aliju Shehu Shagari as president of the Republic 5 and over the passage of the Revenue Allocation Bill, 6 both of which centered around questions of institutional integrity. It is particularly significant that these incidents both highlighted the strategic role of F E D E C O (The Federal Electoral Commission). In many ways, FEDECO epitomizes the Second Republic's experimentation with the regulation of competition. F E D E C O powers of regulation over political parties are indeed quite extraordinary. Although the issues involved in both cases turned in part on technical points of constitutional interpretation about which it appeared that reasonable men might differ, their truer significance lay in the inescapable fact that they left the losers feeling deeply aggrieved and unsatisfied as to the integrity of the very institution that had been charged with bearing the brunt of the constitutional effort to prevent escalation of competition into enmity. To attempt to settle basic issues of power on the basis of doubtful constitutionality seems, in the light of Nigeria's recent history, a particularly grave political risk. Assuming recognition of the dangers, however, the result could be to r e i n f o r c e c o n c e r n f o r the integrity of institutions on which the Second Republic was designed to stand. The Constitution has already been amended to substitute for the electoral college, in the event of an inconclusive first result, a second run-off election between the two leading presidential candidates. Awolowo has recently adopted a wait-and-see attitude toward FEDECO, and the revenue-allocation policy of the government has been perceived

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to be well within the boundaries of existing constitutional discretion. No doubt the most disturbing portents of the new era were registered in the political confrontations that led in June 1981, to the impeachment of the Kaduna governor, Balarabe Musa, followed shortly after by the eruption of serious violence directed against the regime of his fellow PRP governor in Kano, Abubakar Rimi. The administration of these two governors had been conspicuous in Nigeria in launching an explicit program challenging the established social order in their states, which historically have represented bastions of social and political conservatism. Those affected do not accept that the Kaduna impeachment was "constitutional," nor that the Kano violence was "spontaneous." N o one in Nigeria missed the apparent echoes of First Republic political intolerance implicit in these episodes. In a move that may have been partly related to these trends, the NPP announced the severance of its accord with the N P N . Two very different kinds of assessments of the long-term meaning of these developments are p o s s i b l e : o n e , that they m a r k the b e g i n n i n g of the end of the S e c o n d Republic; the other that they may occasion a realignment of political forces that will further undermine the communal politics of the First Republic. Everyone concerned looks to the conduct of the second round of national elections scheduled in 1983 as holding the key to these and other crucial questions touching on the future of the Second Republic democracy. CONCLUSION In judging the viability of the reconstituted democratic system in Nigeria I have argued, in effect, that thanks partly to institutional innovations that have altered the structure of the state and the conditions of political power, the relations of the social g r o u p s that comprise the vital substructure of the Nigerian system are no longer characterized by the desperate zero-sum quality of conflict which obtained under the First Republic. To that extent, the prospects for survival of democracy in Nigeria have significantly increased. A broader spectrum of participants now stand to gain more than ever through the continuation of civilian rule. Despite mutual verbal incitement and flirtation with the specter of military re-entry, there is probably considerable tolerance for the continuing faults and disappointments of competitive politics. Still to be fed into the overall political equation are the enormously severe, and growing, pressures of economic and social discontent that the old system may, ironically, have deflected and diffused through the dynamics of intense sectional conflict. Justice to these pressures cannot be done here, but it must be said that they are increasingly well-documented, that they have multiplied drastically in the last five years, and that they consist of such major challenges as explosive rates of urbanization and acute inflation, severe population pressures in relation to resources, gross maldistribution of wealth,

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high u n e m p l o y m e n t , u n d e r p r o d u c t i o n of f o o d , p r o l i f e r a t i n g d e m a n d s f o r basic s o c i a l a m e n i t i e s a n d s e r v i c e s , and a b u r g e o n i n g u r b a n c r i m e r a t e . Sooner or later these pressures must find a direct political outlet. In the past, N i g e r i a n political parties have e n j o y e d the luxury of choosing not to represent the victims of these conditions. It s e e m s improbable that popular c o n s c i o u s n e s s will tolerate the indifference of the system indefinitely; the challenge m a y therefore in the f u t u r e increase by an order of magnitude, perhaps in the f o r m of social m o v e m e n t s which are only dimly perceptible now. A t p r e s e n t t h e d i s a f f e c t e d l a c k any b a s e f o r g e n u i n e p o l i t i c a l initiative within or outside the system. Restrictions on a v e n u e s of political participation such as nonpolitical unionism, political disqualification of students and university professionals, and newly imposed limitations on political association may serve to disincorporate potential dissidents. T h e implications are not necessarily salutary for long-range democratic development. In the m e a n t i m e , the fate of the Second Republic is more apt to turn on a c o m b i n a t i o n of essential and p r o b l e m a t i c r e q u i r e m e n t s . T h e latter include such varied factors as police and judicial performance, world oil prices, the international equilibrium, and the degree of religious tranquillity. T h e absolutely essential requirements include a reasonable supply of food and cost of food, adherence to the principle of social equity in the distribution of economic opportunities a m o n g ethnic communities, o b s e r v a n c e of rules of electoral fair play, a s e n s e of personal security under law, and the f o r b e a r a n c e of the military. Ingeniousness of political architecture is not relevant to the solution of these problematic difficulties, while no political leadership can afford either to neglect or to rely alone on institutional arrangements to satisfy essential conditions of political order. T h e Second R e p u b l i c has given a second life to the proposition that the tasks of Nigerian g o v e r n m e n t are within the reach of prudent democrats. It remains an open question h o w far political w o r d s and deeds will c o n v i n c e Nigerians that this proposition is valid. NOTES Research in connection with this paper was made possible by grants from the Social Science Research Council and the Ford Foundation. Mr. John Adeyemi Adeleke, Jr., assisted in the compilation of the tables. 1. The connection between constitutional change and political disturbance in Nigeria is reflected in the ephemerality of innovations in the structure of governance. The period of competition which prevailed from 1960 until January 1966 saw the Westminster-model independence constitution replaced by the 1963 Republic Constitution and, later, the addition of a fourth region. These changes were accompanied by civil disturbances spiraling beyond the control of political authorities: the 1963 census dispute, the 1964-1965 election boycotts, the 1964 general strike, and the crisis of authority in the Western region which served as backdrop to the coup which finally toppled the Republic. The coup ushered in a period of enmity during which the

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first military ruler died in a bloody coup after only 6 months in rule; and in which the succeeding regime prosecuted a fratricidal war. 2. The "concurrent" powers which the 1959 Constitution conferred upon the regions encompassed a tremendous range of functions. These included: regulation of arms and ammunition, prosecution of bankruptcy and insolvency, implementation of the census, higher education, labor relations, management of national parks and monuments, and a large number of other roles. 3. These comparisons are based on juxtapositions of 1979 presidential and subpresidential results with 1959 parliamentary results, made for analytic purposes. They are not intended to minimize efforts of the new parties to transcend old ethnic ties, the significance of which this paper in fact stresses. 4. These include all functions referred to in note 2 above. 5. The new Nigerian Constitution stipulated that to be elected president of Nigeria a candidate must win 25 percent of the votes in two-thirds of the nineteen states of the Federation, as well as receive the highest number of votes overall. The distribution requirement was a touchstone of the new architecture. If no candidate achieved this distribution, the choice of president was to be made by an electoral college of the elected representatives of the National Assembly. When the votes were counted in August 1979, Alhaji Shehu Shagari had scored the necessary 25 percent in twelve states but just under 20 percent in a thirteenth state, Kano. If the two-thirds distribution requirement was taken to mean twothirds of nineteen states, Shagari had fallen short by one state and the electoral college procedure would come into effect. However, at the last minute, before results were announced but after balloting had commenced, the Federal Electoral Commission ( F E D E C O ) decided that the provision did not mean this, but rather that it should be construed to require 25 percent of the votes cast out of the mathematical sum of two thirds of the number nineteen, or the votes cast in twelve and two-thirds of the states. By this reckoning, the almost 20 percent Shagari vote in the thirteenth state was sufficient to elect Shagari without recourse to the electoral college. Unsurprisingly, this previously unarticulated meaning of the constitutional provision was denounced by the runner-up, Chief Obafemi Awolowo, leader of the UPN. Next, the Supreme Court of Nigeria, whose membership was hastily constituted in the aftermath of the F E D E C O ruling, ruled on the interpretation of the provision, and (with one dissenting opinion plus another concurring opinion that partly supported the logic of the dissenting opinion), the Court found against Awolowo, who had filed suit on the eve of presidential inauguration (the decision had been handed down days earlier). The case was made all the more controversial by virtue of the fact that the Court upheld the outgoing military government's refusal to release F E D E C O documents that Awolowo claimed would show that the interpretation of the two-thirds requirement had been altered to suit the result. 6. The controversy surrounding the passage of a Revenue Allocation Bill in February 1981 also turned, in part, on a F E D E C O ruling. A presidentially appointed Commission had made recommendations on revenue-sharing that would have given the Federal government 55 percent. All the UPN legislators plus a mix of elected representatives of other parties favored a larger share for the states. The government had seemed to endorse the Commission's proposal, notably in making use of it in its formulation of a Development Plan. When the issue came before the National Assembly, the lower chamber voted a bill lowering the Federal share, while the upper House passed a version increasing it to 58.5 percent. Constitutionally, such impasses call upon a Joint Committee of the two Houses to find an acceptable version. The membership of this Committee was affected in the event by a F E D E C O ruling recognizing Aminu Kano's PRP, whose

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representative then was seated on the Committee, following eruption of a brief physical melee between members at the door of the Joint Committee meeting room. When the Committee voted out a bill sustaining the upper c h a m b e r ' s f o r m u l a — b y two votes—the president promptly signed this into law, while opponents claimed it properly should h a v e b e e n r e f e r r e d b a c k to the N a t i o n a l A s s e m b l y . T h e f a c t that the Chairman of the Joint Committee cast an original vote in the proceedings further clouded the question of constitutional propriety. This matter is also n o w before the Supreme Court.

Democracy in Africa Richard L. Sklar

I am often asked to explain what possessed me, a white American political scientist, to undertake African studies. Usually, I reflect upon my state of mind in the mid-1950s and mention the allure of a new horizon for democracy, limned by the doctrine of self-determination for subject peoples. Even then, however, realists warned that democracy in Africa, as in Asia, would bleed and die on the altars of national consolidation and social reconstruction. 1 But democracy dies hard. Its vital force is the accountability of rulers to their subjects. Democracy stirs and wakens from the deepest slumber whenever the principle of accountability is asserted by members of a community or conceded by those who rule. Democracy cannot be destroyed by a coup d'état; it will survive every legal assault upon political liberty. The true executioner of democracy has neither sword nor scepter, but a baneful idea. Ironically, the deadly agent is an idea about freedom. In Africa today, freedom from want is a universal goal. Millions of lives are blighted by the effects of poverty, unemployment, malnutrition, untended illness, and inadequate education. In all countries, political leaders dedicate themselves to the cause of economic and social development. Most leaders also claim to respect the principle of accountability to the people. However, the imperatives of development are far more demanding than the claims of democracy. Appalled by the human condition and waste of resources in Africa and other nonindustrial regions, many intellectuals proclaim the validity of an antidemocratic idea, to which the term "developmental dictatorship" is aptly applied. According to A. James Gregor, the principles of developmental dictatorship were first formulated by Italian Marxists during the course of intense theoretical debates before the outbreak of World War I. Eventually, they came to understand that orthodox Marxism was not relevant to the social realities of their underdeveloped country. Left to itself, they reasoned, the feeble Italian bourgeoisie, fettered by its dependence upon foreign capitalists, would not create an industrial society. Fatefully, they forsook the ideal of proletarian Presidential address to the twenty-fifth annual Meeting of the African Studies Association, November 1982. Originally published in African Studies Review 26, 3/4 (Sept. - Dec. 1983), 11-24. Reprinted by permission of the author and the African Studies Association.

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internationalism and embraced statist nationalism in order to mobilize all talents and resources for a program of forced and rapid industrialization. With heretical abandon, they entrusted responsibility for the direction of events to an "audacious minority" or "vanguard elite." 2 Faced with a similar predicament in the 1920s, the post-capitalist regime in Moscow adopted a similar nationalist and statist strategy. Ever since, national struggles to overcome economic backwardness in many parts of the world have been intensified if not actually led by proponents of developmental dictatorship. The hardships of developmental dictatorship are well known: liberty is suppressed; labor is regimented and exploited; freedom of movement is curtailed; personal choice is severely restricted. From his prerevolutionary vantage point, Karl Marx advised his readers to anticipate painful transitions or "birth pangs," during the creation of new social orders. "The country that is more developed industrially only shows, to the less developed, the image of its own future." 3 Must we, now, believe that Africa, rid of external rule but bowed-down in social and economic agony, with burgeoning populations and a dearth of jobs, should or will resort en masse and in extremis to developmental dictatorship? Shall we avert our eyes from an unforeseen alternative and disregard an abundance of evidence for the thesis that Africa today is a veritable workshop of democracy? Democracy in Africa is as varied as the ever-changing forms of government in more than fifty sovereign states. Democracy in Africa is an experimental process in a new generation of countries. 4 We should study this process not only to learn about Africa, but also to refresh our knowledge about the meaning of democracy itself. As the African philosopher, Edward Wilmot Blyden, might have said, in our time, these experiments in democracy constitute "Africa's service to the world." 5 For this assessment of democracy in Africa, I have distinguished four existing types at the level of national government and one other which has been proposed. The first type is liberal democracy, wherein the powers of government are limited by law and citizens enjoy freedom of association to compete for office in free elections at regular intervals. Numerous liberal democracies were bequeathed to Africa by the former colonial rulers; all but a few of them, however, were rudely swept away by military coups, political usurpations, and constitutional changes shortly after (or within a decade of) independence. 6 A few hardier breeds of liberal democracy have been planted and nurtured by African statesmen themselves. At the present time, one person in five on the continent of Africa lives in a truly liberal democracy with genuine freedom of expression and freedom of political association. (Among black Africans the percentage is higher: one in four.) The citizens of liberal democracies include an estimated one hundred million Nigerians plus the citizens of five other states, namely, Botswana, The Gambia, Mauritius, Senegal, and Zimbabwe. However, the serious qualifications to which this observation is liable underscore the experimental and

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highly contingent nature of liberal democracy in Africa. During the past two years, ventures in liberal democracy have been aborted by paternalistic military guardians in Upper Volta, (arguably) the Central African Republic, and Ghana. At present, liberal democracy lingers in Zimbabwe, but the political leaders of that country have expressed their strong preference for a democracy without party competition. Until the electoral victory of Mauritian socialists in June 1982, no national government in an independent African state had ever been transferred to an opposition by electoral means. Confirming the historic importance of this event, the Mauritian socialists have pledged to strengthen a constitutional guarantee of free elections at regular intervals. In The Gambia, liberal democracy nearly succumbed to an insurrection in July 1981. It has since been fortified by the establishment of a confederation with a protective sister-republic, Senegal. Since the retirement of President Leopold Sedar Senghor in January 1981, Senegal has emerged as a full-fledged liberal democracy. President Abdou Diouf leads a moderate socialist party which enjoys a commanding majority in the national assembly. The party is also a haven for conservative and parasitical interest groups. To rejuvenate this party for the urgent tasks of economic reconstruction, and to defuse a potentially revolutionary opposition, President Diouf has opened the door of legality to all political parties. Inevitably, the opposition parties sparkle, like the fragments of a Roman candle, in splendid sectarian isolation. Diouf's open air treatment of illiberal dissent is a milestone for democratic socialists in Africa. Given the large number of sovereign entities in today's Africa, and the preponderance of illiberal governments, the crucial accounting for African liberal democracy must be rendered in populous Nigeria. Scholars have pondered and variously explained the remarkable resilience of constitutional liberty in Nigerian government. Without prejudice to the importance of other explanations, notably the influence of indigenous constitutional traditions, I am particularly impressed by the impact of federalism upon Nigerian political thought. While the number of states in Nigeria's federation has varied and remains contentious, federalism per se is an article of national faith, the virtually unquestioned premise of national unity. It is instructive to recall that federalism was a shared value for rival nationalists during the colonial era; 7 it was the indispensable basis for Nigerian unity under military rule, when the threat of national disintegration loomed large. At present, nineteen states accommodate a richly textured and wondrously complex tapestry of democratic political life. Truly federal governments are necessarily liberal governments, predicated on the division and restraint of power. In Nigeria, the rights of citizens and constituent states alike are protected by a staunchly independent judiciary. In fact, Nigeria is an exceptionally legalistic society; many political issues of great moment are finally resolved in the courts, for example, the outcome of the 1979 presidential election. Nor did the courts lose their vitality under

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military rule. Shorn, temporarily, of their formal constitutional independence, the judges still retained their authority in the states, where, in the words of a legal scholar, they performed "prodigious feats of courage" defending the rights of citizens. 8 Should constitutional government in Nigeria be suppressed once again, the potential for its early revival would be preserved by federalism, the legal profession, and the determined practice of judicial independence. Despite its apparent vigor, liberal democracy in Nigeria is debilitated by the effects of economic anarchy and social distemper. A small minority of the population is conspicuously wealthy and privileged while the vast majority seethes with discontent. K e e p e r s of the national c o n s c i e n c e frequently deplore the plunder and waste of Nigeria's wealth by corrupt officials in collusion with unscrupulous businessmen. 9 Scholars discern the portents of revolutionary mass action, particularly in the northern states, where class conflict is pronounced. 1 0 Disillusioned intellectuals renounce democracy and urge the merits of developmental dictatorship in one form or another. Both the Leninist and the corporatist, or Brazilian, versions have their advocates. In Nigeria, as in Senegal, liberal democracy is democracy with tears and many reservations. A second type of democracy in Africa accepts the principle that rulers should be accountable to their subjects but dispenses with the political method of multiparty electoral competition. I shall adopt the term guided democracy for this type of government by guardians of the public weal who insist upon political uniformity. Guided democracy is, to be sure, a form of developmental dictatorship; it is classified separately because the other forms of developmental dictatorship make little or no pretense of accountability to the people on the part of exalted persons or national saviors. The late President J o m o Kenyatta of Kenya was one of a number of African presidents who have ruled beyond the reach of accountability. When he died, in 1978, the barons of Kenyan politics and society could not imagine, nor would they have tolerated, another episode of such highly personal rule. Kenya had become a de facto one-party state in 1969, when the sole opposition party was banned. Yet the one-party political process in that country has been highly competitive; the triumphal party itself has been described as a "confederation of arenas" where the bosses of rural factions "collide" and "collude" in their "perennial struggle" for power. 11 Survey research on the electoral process tells of a well-informed electorate which imposes the norm of accountability upon its representatives; for example, in 1979, 45 percent of the incumbent members of Parliament were defeated at the polls. 12 When, in 1982, Kenya became a one-party state de jure, her commitment to guided rather than liberal democracy was decisively confirmed. During the course of a purely formal parliamentary debate on the establishment of a one-party state, the Vice-President, Mr. Mwai Kibaki, explained that constitutional change was needed to preclude the election of persons who would favor experiments based upon Marxist theories. Such theories, he

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argued, have been disproved by the poor economic performances of communist systems. 1 3 This kind of reasoning, from a different ideological perspective, is used by the leaders of those authoritarian regimes which have socialist orientations to preclude the practical advocacy of capitalist ideas. In such cases, political monopolies are justified by persons w h o assert the morai necessity or scientific truth of an official doctrine, e.g., " H u m a n i s m " in Zambia, the "Third Universal Theory" in Libya, and Marxism-Leninism in several countries. The touchstone of guided democracy is the existence and operation of a political mechanism which can be expected to ensure the accountability of rulers to the people. Various developmental dictatorships in Africa, both capitalist and socialist, do not pass muster as guided democracies because their leaders rule without regard to the principle of accountability. Those which do qualify as guided democracies include a variety of political forms and ideological orientations. Some, such as Guinea-Bissau, Tanzania, and (arguably) Zambia, have m a s s - m o b i l i z i n g parties with open memberships. Others, including Congo People's Republic, Angola, and Mozambique, have created Leninist parties with doctrinal restrictions on membership and statutes on the required accountability of leaders. In these and other instances of one-party or, as in Libya, no-party rule, the degree of democracy varies with the intensity of passion for political accountability and its effective enforcement. In socialist thought, the concept of democracy extends beyond the precept of accountability to the idea of social justice. From that perspective, democracy implies the effective pursuit of an egalitarian social order in addition to a government which is accountable to the people. For the principal instance of social democracy (my third type for this survey) in Africa I turn, necessarily, to Tanzania. Ever since the f a m o u s A r u s h a D e c l a r a t i o n of 1967, the Tanzanian Government has endeavored to minimize social inequality and to counteract various tendencies toward class division. In the commentaries of President Julius K. Nyerere, two aspects of the quest for social equality are strongly emphasized: first, the problem of privilege, or differentials in both personal consuming power and access to public services; second, the importance of popular participation in the decision-making processes of both political and economic organizations. 14 On the first count, impressive achievements have been recorded in reducing income differentials and providing economic, educ a t i o n a l , h e a l t h , a n d o t h e r e s s e n t i a l s e r v i c e s to the p u b l i c at l a r g e . Furthermore, the conversion of public trust into personal wealth has been checked by progressive taxation, lean salary scales for the administrators of public agencies, and the enforcement of a socialist code of conduct for leaders and officials. On the second count, that of progress toward popular and democratic participation in governmental and economic decision-making, Tanzania's record is more difficult to assess. In 1967, the sole legal party accepted an

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historic challenge: to build socialism in an agrarian country without resort to coercive methods of collectivization. At the same time, every effort would be made to raise the standard of living and enhance the quality of life in peasant and working class communities. However, the vast majority of rural dwellers did not respond favorably to the party's call for collectivization on a voluntary basis. Finally, at the end of its patience, the government used compulsion to move and resettle millions of peasants from their dispersed homes and farms into clustered villages between 1974 and 1976. That process, known as "villagization," has made it possible for the government to reach the entire rural population with basic services. However, the related aim of socialist farming—the collectivization of production—was, at first, deemphasized and then virtually abandoned in the face of peasant resistance, a food crisis, and the critical views of potential donors, notably the World Bank, at a time of dire need for foreign aid. 15 Suddenly, the socialist venture in Tanzania was awash in a sea of academic and intellectual doubt. 1 6 Could rural socialism be reconciled with an acceptable level of agricultural efficiency? Had the socialist venture been sabotaged by non- or pseudo-socialist officials and their class allies in concert with antisocialist foreign powers? Those who seek honest answers to these hard q u e s t i o n s and still believe in the viability of socialist p o l i c i e s in Tanzania have set great store by the party's avowed commitment to popular and democratic participation in economic and political life. They also view with concern the lack of evidence to show that workers and peasants participate effectively in the formulation and adoption of public policies. At the center of power, the ruling party itself sets a decisive example for all other institutions. In his empathetic assessment of party life, Cranford Pratt finds an "oligarchic" and "profound bias against any opposition to the leadership." 1 7 If, as Nyerere maintains, democratic participation is a cornerstone of social equality, 18 sincere socialists cannot disregard the inevitably repressive effects of legal barriers to freedom of association. Socialists of participative conviction cannot sidestep a pluralist question: Is democratic participation viable in a oneparty state, where political competition is severely restricted by the virtual elimination of group rights to pursue self-determined political aims? This question, which reflects the liberal critique of guided democracy, has engaged the attention of intellectuals in several other African countries where the search for social democracy is less resolute than it has been in Tanzania. An illuminating example is the constitutional declaration of a " O n e - p a r t y Participatory Democracy" in Zambia. It signifies experimentation with a fourth, familiar but elusive, type of democracy, namely, participatory democracy. The theory of participatory democracy is a product of the current era. It affirms the existence of a reciprocal relationship between democratic political institutions and participative social institutions, with particular emphasis upon the educative effects of democratic participation in the workplace. 1 9 In Zambia, the concept of participatory democracy was introduced as a national

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goal by President Kenneth D. Kaunda in 1968. 20 Subsequently, Kaunda construed the concept to connote democratic participation in all spheres of life, so that "no single individual or group of individuals shall have a monopoly of political, economic, social or military power." 2 1 To his mind, the public interest suffers when politicians monopolize political power, or soldiers monopolize military power, or intellectuals and technocrats monopolize knowledge, or publishers and writers m o n o p o l i z e the p o w e r of the pen, or w o r k e r s monopolize power through strikes, or chiefs monopolize the power of tradition. 22 In the near future, he forecast, participatory democracy would be practiced in all Zambian institutions, including the civil service and the army. 23 Objectively considered, however, the record of participatory democracy in Zambia has fallen far short of Kaunda's expectations. Careful studies attest to the very low levels of popular attachment to, or involvement in, participatory institutions in rural Zambia. 2 4 The sole legal party has not become a truly popular institution. Membership in the party has dwindled to fewer than five percent of the population despite its availability to Zambians without restriction. 25 A "commandist" and "paternalistic" style of administration at the local level is magnified at the national level by a domineering office of the president. 2 6 As William Tordoff observes, "Ironically, no one emphasizes the virtues of participatory democracy more than the President himself, yet his own style of increasingly personalized decision-making renders its realization difficult." 2 7 As in Tanzania, the party-state in Zambia abhors the very idea of political pluralism. Yet the Zambian government, unlike the Tanzanian, must contend with a formidable and resourceful labor movement; indeed, the Mineworkers Union of Zambia, 60,000 strong, has never accepted the hegemony of the party in the sphere of industrial relations. Its long-term struggle for autonomy from an imperious government lies at the very heart of conflict in Zambian politics. Truly democratic participation is self-motivated and self-determined; it is not coerced. In Africa, participatory democracy implies a commitment to the self-motivated assertion of peasant and working class interests in political affairs. But the Zambian leadership has tried to induce popular participation into channels which would be controlled by a monopolistic political party. From a democratic standpoint, however, induced participation comes close to being a contradiction in terms; indeed it is a form of coercion. And it has been rejected by the Zambian workers and peasants. In 1981, following a spate of wildcat strikes, four leaders of the labor m o v e m e n t , including the chairman and secretary-general of the Z a m b i a Congress of Trade Unions, and an eventually successful aspirant for the presidency of the Mineworkers' Union, were detained for nearly three months on charges of plotting against the government. Announcing this action, Kaunda accused the labor leadership of capitalist deviations. 2 8 In 1982, Kaunda turned a corner in his personal ideology. Much to the amazement of Kaundaw a t c h e r s , m o s t of w h o m were c o n f i d e n t of his a p p a r e n t l y u n s h a k a b l e

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c o m m i t m e n t to n o n d o c t r i n a i r e " h u m a n i s t " s o c i a l i s m , he d e c i d e d that Z a m b i a ' s official ideology should be Marxist (or " s c i e n t i f i c " ) socialism. But this is not, after all, an arbitrary choice. Scientific socialism marks a strictly logical progression in ideology for a ruling group o f s o c i a l i s t inclination which intends to control the working class. It also signifies the maturation o f basic tendencies toward an undiluted developmental dictatorship in Zambia. 2 9 A s a result o f K a u n d a ' s ideological demarche, the b e l e a g u e r e d labor movement has acquired a powerful ally in its bid for autonomy, namely the interdenominational Christian Council o f Zambia. Following his release from detention, Frederick Chiluba, chairman o f the Congress o f Trade Unions, is reported to have " m a d e a point o f going to church almost every day." 3 0 A s in Poland, the struggle for participatory democracy in Z a m b i a has forged an alliance between two social institutions which are second to none other in popularity, namely the labor movement and the churches. L i k e his Polish counterpart, L e c h Walesa, Chiluba stands for participatory democracy from without, rather than from within, the party. In Zambia, as in Tanzania, the acid test for participatory democracy is the attitude o f the national leadership toward self-assertion by the working class and the peasantry. Neither regime has passed that test; each has chosen to promote induced, rather than spontaneous, participation. It may be instructive to contrast these instances with the noteworthy practice o f worker selfmanagement in Algeria, inaugurated spontaneously by urban and rural workers at the end o f the war for independence. For twenty years, this genuine expression o f working class democracy has survived the rigors o f interaction with an authoritarian government. T h e vitality and lasting effect o f this participatory institution in Algeria is attributable to its spontaneous, as opposed to induced, genesis. 3 1 B y contrast, a memorable episode o f induced participatory democracy under revolutionary conditions in Guinea-Bissau, called by A m i l c a r Cabral " r e v o l u t i o n a r y d e m o c r a c y , " appears to have faded in the post-revolutionary, one-party state. 3 2 A fifth type o f democracy has no legal guardian in Africa, but its adoption is often contemplated. Its name is consociational democracy, so christened by a Dutch political scientist, Arend Lijphart, and widely celebrated by like-minded scholars. T h i s type o f democracy is prescribed by its advocates as a long- or short-term solution to the problem o f cultural, i.e., ethnic, racial, or religious, group conflict in deeply divided societies. In fact, it is a version o f liberal democracy with the addition o f special arrangements to protect the vital i n t e r e s t s o f c u l t u r a l g r o u p s . In c u l t u r a l l y plural s o c i e t i e s , such as Switzerland, federalism and cantonal autonomy are exemplary consociational devices; the principle o f proportionality for both political representation and the distribution o f benefits is also important. In Nigeria, the constitutional requirement that political parties must reflect the federal character o f the country in order to qualify for registration is one o f several consociational d e v i c e s w h i c h h a v e b e e n d e s i g n e d to p r e v e n t s e c t i o n a l

domination.

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Consociational mechanisms and techniques are routinely used by the governments of plural societies. According to Lijphart, however, the hallmark of specifically consociational democracy, as a distinct type, is effective and voluntary political cooperation among the elites and truly representative leaders of the main cultural groups. 33 In South Africa, the banner of consociationalism has been unfurled by legal opponents of the ruling National Party, principally the white Progressive Federal Party 34 and Inkatha, a Zulu-based mass organization, acting through a multiracial commission appointed by Gatsha Buthelezi, Chief Minister of Kwazulu, in 1980. Drawing upon the ideas of Professor Lijphart, who served as a member, the commission has proposed a consociational constitution for the Province of Natal as an example for the country as a whole. The key features of this proposal include universal adult suffrage, a legislative assembly elected by means of proportional representation in electoral districts, and an executive body chosen in accordance with consociational principles. 35 These recommendations have been rejected by the government. Meanwhile proposals for consociational democracy in South Africa have also been criticized by rigorously democratic thinkers. Heribert Adam, for one, notes that group identities and ethnic labels in South Africa have been imposed upon subject groups by the dominant group. "For example," he observes, "there are no enthusiastic Coloureds in the self-perceptions of those classified as Coloureds." 36 Furthermore, a growing number of black liberation leaders are social revolutionaries with little or no interest in consociational compromising. Increasingly, the liberation struggle involves collective demands for "redistributive" or social and, in the workplace, participatory democracy. 37 In divided societies, like South Africa, where revolutionary action involves a large and increasing measure of class struggle, consociational democracy cannot fulfill its promise of stabilizing social satisfaction. Yet it would be mistaken to believe that the consociational idea of self-determination for self-regarding communities is counterrevolutionary per se. Insofar as subnational group rights command general respect, democratic movements which disregard consociational precepts do so at their peril. In Africa, the value of consociational democracy would be more clearly apparent in countries, such as the Democratic Republic of the Sudan, where the nature of cultural cleavage is less ambiguous than it is in the apartheid republic. 38 This type of democracy should not be under-appreciated because of its current association with moderate reform in South Africa. Democracy in Africa is widely approved but everywhere in doubt. Democratic dreams are the incandescent particles of current history which gleam brightly in the sunlight of liberation only to fade beneath the lengthening shadow of grim economic realities. This survey of types may help to sort some of the problems of democracy in Africa. Liberal democracy founders in a rising tide of tears and social despair. Reflecting on two recent setbacks for liberal democracy in West Africa, an acute observer offered this judgment: "It

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was only the appalling economic situations in Ghana and Upper Volta, and the impotence of the respective governments faced with this situation that led to the collapse of their parliamentary systems." 3 9 Social democracy introduces a standard for the just distribution of wealth and material benefits; but its success and survival cannot be ensured by redistributive policies alone. In an age of social optimism, people will not settle for the redistribution of misery and poverty. Everything depends upon the timely creation of national wealth and wealth-producing assets by means of public and collective, rather than private, enterprise. In many African countries, however, statist economic policies, espoused in the name of socialism, have discouraged or prevented the release of creative, wealth-generating energies. In Guinea, for example, the regime outlawed all private markets in 1975; private trading was made a criminal offense. State agencies were supposed to fill the void, but they were riddled with corruption and proved to be hopelessly inefficient. Economic collapse and starvation were avoided only because the law was erratically enforced and eventually allowed to lapse. 40 In this and many other cases, statism has been mistaken for socialism. For reasons that are, in the main, historical and contingent rather than theoretical or necessary, socialism has often been identified with statism by friends and foes alike. Increasingly that identification discredits socialism as a mode of development in the eyes of the world on the ground that statist strategies are plainly impractical and unrealistic apart from their troubling political aspects. In the past, a few countries, notably the Soviet Union and China, have constructed socialist economies with capital extracted from the countryside and appropriated by the state for purposes of investment and essential purchases abroad. That classic strategy is plainly unsuited to conditions in the agrarian countries of Africa for several reasons, among them rural resistance to collectivization, exponential population growth, the high cost of critical imports, and endemic problems of statist economic management. Furthermore, socialism is supposed to signify the democratization of economic life. Coercion is contrary to the spirit of socialism. Statism, the most general form of coercion, is the graveyard of socialism as well as democracy. Participatory democracy is a logical response to the challenge of statism. Its appearance and reappearance in Africa should be a source of inspiration to democrats and, in particular, democratic socialists. However, the practice of participatory democracy cannot be regimented by the state without detriment to its integrity. Where participatory institutions have been created in factories and farms by self-motivated and self-directed workers, as in the case of Algeria, they countervail the power of the one-party state. By contrast, where participative decision-making is narrowly restricted and subject to close supervision by a party-state, as in Tanzania and Zambia, participatory democracy succumbs to the assault of guided democracy and developmental dictatorship. Shall we conclude, with Gregor, that developmental dictatorship is the wave of the future for Africa? 4 1 The empirical support for that viewpoint is

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weak. Its sole rationale—the presumed power to produce rapid economic development—is scarcely tenable. Democracy is a far more popular alternative, but democracy must take up the challenge of development where dictatorship has failed. Africa needs a developmental democracy, a democracy without tears. Developmental democracy could represent a synthesis of all that has been learned from the many experiments with simpler types. It would probably be liberal and social, participatory and consociational all at once. From guided democracy it could inherit an appreciation for the function of leadership. The core of guided democracy could even be refined and transformed into preceptoral democracy, or leadership without political power. 42 In a complex, developmental democracy, intellectual guidance would operate by means of persuasion alone; its efficacy in Africa would be ensured by that immense respect for learning and scholarship which is a characteristic quality of modern African societies. Developmental democracy does not imply a specific formulation of democratic principles based upon distinctive core values, such as political liberty for liberal democracy, social equality for social democracy, popular participation for participatory democracy, or group rights for consociational democracy. The content of developmental democracy would vary with the views of democratic theorists. One such theorist, the Canadian, C. B. Macpherson, introduced the term to designate a stage in the evolution of liberal democracy, marked by the emergence, in theory and practice, of equal opportunity for "individual selfdevelopment." 43 This advance was promoted by the political doctrines of John Stuart Mill and his early twentieth-century successors. In our time, it is surely appropriate to broaden the meaning of developmental democracy so that it will accommodate the goals of social reconstruction in the nonindustrial countries. Developmental democracy today, should, I believe, be enlarged to encompass the core values of social, participatory, and consociational democracy as well as the specifically liberal elements of limited government and individual selfdevelopment. Broadly conceived, developmental democracy would evoke fresh and original responses to the problems of economic underdevelopment, social stagnation, and political drift. Original thought is the heart of the matter. Gregor has shown, convincingly, that the essential ideas of developmental dictatorship were formulated during the first decade of this century by revolutionary syndicalists in Italy. By the ninth decade these ideas have surely run their course. There is no good economic reason for Africans today to propitiate the European gods of developmental dictatorship. From the early stirrings of modern African nationalism to the onset and consolidation of political independence, Africa has resisted foreign intellectual domination. In all but a few countries, African governments conduct their foreign relations on the basis of a deep and abiding commitment to the principle of nonalignment in world politics. 44 African statecraft reflects a determination to formulate the challenges of international relations from a self-defined

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standpoint. In the social thought of twentieth-century Africa, intellectual selfreliance is a paramount theme; it spans the ideological spectrum as indicated by its prominence in the francophonic philosophy of Negritude, the Africanist tradition of Anton Lembede and his followers in South Africa, 4 5 the " A f r i c a n " and democratic socialism of Nyerere, and the revolutionary socialism of Amilcar Carbral. 46 Students of social thought should recognize the quest for an intellectual synthesis and transcendence of capitalism and socialism in their classical and contemporary, or neoclassical, forms. In an essay entitled "The Emancipation of Democracy," W. E. B . Du Bois assessed the contribution of black people in America to democracy thus: It w a s the black man that raised a vision of democracy in A m e r i c a such as neither Americans nor Europeans conceived in the eighteenth century and such as they have not even accepted in the twentieth century; and yet a conception which every clear sighted man knows is true and inevitable. 4 7

Might this not be written of A f r i c a ' s contribution to democracy in our time? Where shall w e look for the signs of intellectual and political synthesis which would signify the emergence of a new democracy? Where have the forms of developmental democracy begun to take shape? E v e r y national workshop bears inspection, for each, in its own way, contributes to the aggregate of democratic knowledge and practice. Consider Zimbabwe, where revolutionary socialists in power prepare to terminate a transitional period of liberal government in favor of a more restrictive, one-party political formula. Their long-term objective has been described in an official document as " a truly socialist, egalitarian and democratic society." 4 8 Zimbabwean leaders and theorists will be challenged by the fact that there are no models for that kind of social construction on the face of this earth. In pacesetting Zambia, where w a g e labor constitutes a comparatively large component of the total work force (more than one third), the struggle for trade union autonomy is fundamental to the cause of developmental democracy. But for the democratic vitality of the labor movement, developmental dictatorship in the guise of "scientific socialism" could not be counteracted by other popular groups in Zambia. While clergymen, businessmen, intellectuals, and professional people are, in the main, opposed to the adoption of "scientific socialism" as an official doctrine, they could not resist it effectively without the firm support of democratic labor. In this matter of ideological choice, the principal restraining force on Zambia's political leadership is neither foreign capital nor the Zambian bourgeoisie; it is the Zambian labor movement. 4 9 In the Sahelian nation of Niger, a military government has proclaimed the institution of a new political order, known as "the development society." Founded upon the twin pillars of traditional youth organizations and villagebased agricultural cooperatives, the new system of government functions

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through a series of elected councils, culminating in a National Development Council, which has been directed to frame an "original" and "authentically Nigerian" constitution. 5 0 Here, too, the spirit of developmental democracy is abroad. In neighboring Nigeria, the prospects for developmental democracy are enhanced by a federal system of government which provides a multiplicity of arenas for social and political experimentation. Federalism is also the essential foundation of Nigerian national unity. The relevance of that example to p a n - A f r i c a n thought merits attention. Dictatorship may be the most formidable barrier to pan-African unity. Pan-African federalism would foster democracy at the expense of dictatorship in many countries. As a pan-African principle, federalism would also facilitate the exchange of democratic discoveries among African polities and thereby promote the growth of developmental democracy. Increasingly, African freedom would radiate African power. Metaphorically speaking, most Africans today live under the dictatorship of material poverty. The poverty of dictatorship in Africa is equally apparent. It offends the renowned African tradition of community-wide participation in decision-making. 5 1 By contrast with dictatorship, democracy is a developing idea and an increasingly sophisticated form of political organization. The development of democracy in Africa has become a major determinant of its progress in the world. NOTES 1. See the sensitive assessment by Rupert Emerson, From Empire to Nation (Cambridge 1960), 2 7 2 - 2 9 2 . 2. A. James Gregor, Italian Fascism and Developmental Dictatorship (Princeton 1979), 87. 3. Karl Marx, Capital, Vol. I. ( N e w York 1967, Preface to the First German Edition, 1867), 8 - 1 0 . 4. I am indebted to C. R. D. Halisi for this formulation. 5. The title of an address, delivered in 1880, in which Africa's contribution to world culture is judiciously assessed. See Edward Wilmot Blyden, Christianity, Islam and the Negro Race (London 2nd. ed. 1888). 6. On "post-independence political change," see Ruth Berins Collier, Regimes in Tropical Africa (Berkeley 1982), 9 5 - 1 1 7 . 7. See Obafemi A w o l o w o , Path to Nigerian Freedom (London 1947); Nnamdi A z i k i w e , Political Blueprint of Nigeria ( L a g o s 1 9 4 3 ) ; and James S. C o l e m a n , Nigeria: Background to Nationalism (Berkeley 1958). 8. Okay A c h i k e , Groundwork of Military Law and Military Rule in Nigeria (Enugu 1978), 184. 9. For a candid statement by the Secretary to the Government of the Federation, see Shehu A. Musa, National Discipline, National Commitment and Development (Lagos 1981); on the roots of corruption, see Peter P. Ekeh, "Colonialism and the Two Publics in Africa: A Theoretical Statement," Comparative Studies in Society and History 17/1 ( 1 9 7 5 ) 9 1 - 1 1 2 . 10. See Larry Diamond, "Cleavage, Conflict and Anxiety in the Second Nigerian Republic," Journal of Modern African Studies 20/4 (1982) 6 2 9 - 6 6 8 .

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11. R o b e r t H . J a c k s o n and C a r l G. R o s b e r g , Personal Rule in Black Africa (Berkeley 1982), 103. 12. Ibid., I l l ; Joel D. B a r k a n , "Legislators, Elections, and Political Linkages," in Joel D. B a r k a n with John D. O k u m u (eds.), Politics and Public Policy in Kenya and Tanzania ( N e w York 1979), 8 3 - 8 4 . 13. The Weekly Review (Nairobi), June 11, 1982, 5. 14. S e e J u l i u s K. N y e r e r e , The Arusha Declaration Ten Years After ( D a r es Salaam 1977); also, Reginald H e r b o l d Green, "Tanzanian Political E c o n o m y Goals, S t r a t e g i e s , a n d R e s u l t s , 1 9 6 7 - 7 4 : N o t e s T o w a r d s an I n t e r i m A s s e s s m e n t , " in B i s m a r c k U . M w a n s a s u and C r a n f o r d Pratt (eds.), Towards Socialism in Tanzania (Toronto 1979), 1 9 - 4 5 . 15. On the c o n s e q u e n c e s of rural resistance to collectivization, see, a m o n g m a n y f i n e analyses: M i c h a e l F. L o f c h i e , " A g r a r i a n Crisis and E c o n o m i c Liberalisation in T a n z a n i a , " Journal of Modern African Studies 16/3 (1978) 4 5 1 - 4 7 5 ; Dean E. McHenry, Jr., Tanzania's Ujamaa Villages (Berkeley 1979); also the e s s a y s by Barker, B o e s e n , a n d M a s c a r e n h a s in B i s m a r c k U. M w a n s a s u and C r a n f o r d Pratt ( e d s . ) , Towards Socialism in Tanzania (Toronto 1979), 1 2 5 - 4 4 ; Zaki Ergas, " W h y Did the U j a m a a V i l l a g e P o l i c y F a i l ? — T o w a r d s a G l o b a l A n a l y s i s , " Journal of Modern Ujamaa in African Studies 1 8 / 3 ( 1 9 8 0 ) 3 8 7 - 4 1 0 ; a n d , G o r a n H y d e n , Beyond Tanzania (Berkeley 1980). 16. I h a v e borrowed this phrase f r o m C r a w f o r d Young's piercing observation that Tanzania presents a "paradox of self-reliance awash in a sea of aid." C r a w f o r d Young, Ideology and Development in Africa {New Haven 1982), 11. 17. C r a n f o r d P r a t t , " T a n z a n i a ' s T r a n s i t i o n to S o c i a l i s m : R e f l e c t i o n s of a Democratic Socialist," in B i s m a r c k U. M w a n s a s u and Cranford Pratt (eds.), Towards Socialism in Tanzania (Toronto 1979), 211. 18. Nyerere, op. cit, 11. 19. A s Carole Pateman observes, in her path-breaking exposition of participatory democracy, " m o s t individuals spend a great deal of their lifetime at w o r k and the business of the w o r k p l a c e provides an education in the m a n a g e m e n t of collective affairs that is difficult to parallel elsewhere." P a t e m a n , Participation and Democratic Theory ( C a m b r i d g e 1970), 43. 20. Kenneth D . Kaunda, Zambia's Guideline for the Next Decade (Lusaka 1968), 20. 21. Kaunda, A Path for the Future ( L u s a k a 1971), 37. 22. Ibid. 23. " K a u n d a , Take up the C h a l l e n g e . . . " (Lusaka 1970). 24. M i c h a e l Bratton, " T h e Social Context of Political Penetration: Village and Ward C o m m i t t e e s in K a s a m a District," in William Tordoff (ed.), Administration in Zambia (Manchester 1980), 2 3 7 - 2 3 8 ; Patrick E. Ollawa, Participatory Democracy in Zambia ( I l l f r a c o m b e 1979), 4 1 5 - 4 1 8 ; S t e p h e n A. Q u i c k , " B u r e a u c r a c y and R u r a l Socialism in Z a m b i a , " Journal of Modern African Studies 15/3 (1977) 394, 399. 25. O l l a w a , op. cit., 319, 3 9 5 , 4 0 4 - 4 0 6 ; Ian Scott. " P a r t y and A d m i n i s t r a t i o n U n d e r the O n e - p a r t y S t a t e , " in W i l l i a m T o r d o f f (ed.), Administration in Zambia (Manchester 1980), 1 5 5 - 1 5 6 . 26. See Bratton, op. cit., 234; O l l a w a , op. cit., 324. 27. William Tordoff (ed.), Administration in Zambia (Manchester 1980), 25. 28. S t a t e m e n t b y P r e s i d e n t K e n n e t h K a u n d a , July 28, 1981. E m b a s s y of the Republic of Z a m b i a , Washington, D.C. 29. In f o r m u l a t i n g this interpretation of K a u n d a ' s ideological shift, I have benefitted f r o m the clarifying insights of C. R. D. Halisi. 30. Africa Confidential 23/10, M a y 1 2 , 1 9 8 2 , 2.

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31. For an informed, optimistic assessment of democratic participation in Algeria, see John R. Nellis, "Socialist Management in Algeria," Journal of Modern African Studies 15/4 (1977), 529-54; and his "Algerian Socialism and its Critics," Canadian Journal of Political Science 13/3 (1980), 481-507. 32. G é r a r d C h a l i a n d , Armed Struggle in Africa ( N e w York 1 9 6 9 ) . B a s i l Davidson, The Liberation of Guiñé (Baltimore 1969). Lars Rudebeck, Guinea-Bissau (Uppsala 1974). A pessimistic reappraisal is given by Lars Rudebeck, "Consequences of Decolonization Even Through Political Mobilization for Armed Struggle." Paper presented to a seminar on "Liberation and Development" at the Institute of Political History, University of Turku, Turku, Finland, 1981. 33. The theory of consociational democracy has a partly African pedigree, namely, the classic analysis of West African politics by the Jamaican Nobel Laureate, Sir W. Arthur L e w i s , Politics in West Africa (London 1965). See Arend L i j p h a r t , Democracy in Plural Societies (New Haven 1977), 143-146,177-181, 216-222. 34. F. van Zyl Slabbert and David Welsh, South Africa's Options (Cape Town 1979). Slabbert, a former professor of sociology, became parliamentary leader of the Progressive Federal Party in 1979. 35. Buthelezi Commission Report Vol. I. (Durban 1982), ch. 5. 36. Heribert Adam, "Political Alternatives," in Heribert Adam and Hermann Giliomee, Ethnic Power Mobilized: Can South Africa Change? (New Haven 1978), 288. 37. Ibid., 290-302. Despite his cogent critique of consociational democracy for South Africa, Adam subsequently participated in the deliberations of the Buthelezi Commission and commended consociational reform as "the only realistic alternative to escalating strife...an institutionalized truce instead of open warfare." Adam, "The Manipulation of Ethnicity: South Africa in Comparative Perspective," in Donald Rothchild and Victor A. Olorunsola (eds.), State Versus Ethnic Claims: African Policy Dilemmas (Boulder 1983), 140. 38. Surely, the intractable north-south conflict in the Sudan virtually cries out for a consociational solution. See Dunstan M. Wai, "Revolution, Rhetoric, and Reality in the Sudan," Journal of Modern African Studies 17/1 (1979)71-93. 39. West Africa 3377, April 26, 1982, 111. 40. R. W. Johnson, "Guinea," in John Dunn (ed.), West African States: Failure and Promise (Cambridge 1978), 44-50. For the climactic, violent sequel, see Young, op. cit., 172-173. 41. Gregor, op. cit., 327, 333. 42. T h i s d i f f e r s f r o m L i n d b l o m ' s concept of a "preceptoral s y s t e m , " which denotes the fusion of intellectual leadership and political power by dictatorial means. Charles E. Lindblom, Politics and Markets (New York 1977), 52-62. 43. C. B. Macpherson, The Life and Times of Liberal Democracy (Oxford 1977), 44-76. 44. Ali A. Mazrui, Africa's International Relations (London 1977), 179-183, 280-283. 45. Gail M. Gerhart, Black Power in South Africa: The Evolution of an Ideology (Berkeley 1978). 46. Especially, "National Liberation and Culture," in Africa Information Service (ed.) Return to the Source: Selected Speeches of Amilcar Cabral (New York 1973), 39-56. 47. W. E. Burghardt Du Bois, The Gift of Black Folk (New York 1970), 65. C. R. D. Halisi drew my attention to this parallel and stimulated my thoughts about the ideas in this paragraph. 48. G o v e r n m e n t of t h e R e p u b l i c of Z i m b a b w e , Growth with Equity: An

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Economic Policy Statement (Salisbury 1981), 19. 49. I am indebted to C. Chipasha Luchembe, an historian of the labor movement in Zambia, for this interpretation. 50. See Africa Research Bulletin 19/4, May 15, 1982, 6417A; and Africa News 18/24, June 14, 1 9 8 2 , 9 - 1 1 . 51. See, for example, the Akan-based "paradigm of African society," especially its "theory of government" in W. E. Abraham, The Mind of Africa (Chicago 1962), 75-80.

13 The Unfinished State of Nigeria C. S. Whitaker

Hailed at its birth in 1960 as democracy's best hope in Africa, Nigeria succumbed to yet another military takeover on December 3 1 , 1 9 8 3 . Of particular anguish is the fact that the coup reverses the celebrated constitution of 1979, when Nigeria redeemed democracy f r o m the ashes of violent political breakd o w n , military intervention, assassination, and civil war. N o w events are bound to c o n f i r m the all too general impression that in Africa authoritarian rule is inevitable. Perhaps a more accurate reckoning on Nigeria's twenty-four-year history, however, is that the nation is unable to live with democracy—or without it. To understand the dynamics of Nigerian politics, w e need to understand why the new military government of General M u h a m m e d Buhari, though meeting with popular approval for the m o m e n t , is unlikely to offer the country a decisive resolution of its conflicts. The relation of Nigeria's realities to the values and historic conditions associated with a democratic system is far too complicated to allow soldiers simply to c o m m a n d the country into a more fortunate destiny. And in Nigeria, as elsewhere, one must distinguish between democracy as an ideology and the quality of regime it is likely to produce under given conditions. It is also necessary to consider the concept of the state held by many Nigerians.

CLEANING HOUSE A s with Nigeria's coup of 1966, the immediate justification for the latest military intervention rests primarily on an indictment of the elected government. B r o u g h t to p o w e r in 1 9 7 9 a f t e r t h i r t e e n y e a r s of m i l i t a r y g o v e r n m e n t , President Shehu Shagari's administration was composed f r o m the very start by a clever and expedient—but self-serving and dubious—interpretation of a crucial p r o v i s i o n of the n e w constitution governing presidential elections. Thus the moral tone of the Second Nigerian Republic was established. Basically, government operated on the principle that the dealer most able to f u r n i s h t h e b e s t c a r d s to t h e g r e a t e s t n u m b e r of h i g h - r o l l e r s w o u l d Originally published in Worldview 27, 3 (1984), 5-8. Reprinted by permission of the author and the Carnegie Council on Ethics and International Affairs.

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necessarily control the game. And underlying this disastrous notion was the even more corrosive v i e w that a political machine thus devised was preferable to any alternative political f o r c e s that might align against it. To this extent it can be said that the g o v e r n m e n t of the Second Nigerian Republic was contrived in arrogance, intolerance, and fear. Nor should it now be forgotten that the previous military government supervised this tarnished transition. The newly elected government promptly issued a preemptory deportation order against a staunch political rival on threadbare legal grounds and used military troops to quell a local insurrection brought on by its own inept handling of an agricultural resettlement scheme. There followed a succession of major public scandals and, in an effort to quash evidence of official wrongdoing, even a resort to arson that destroyed important government buildings and cost lives. Corruption became routine in the awarding of government contracts and in the regulation of the economy and official business in general. Indeed, most government decisions, including legislative bills and litigation, came to involve financial considerations—put plainly, bribes. In a government-managed economy the opportunities for bribery are endless, and in Nigeria they proliferated. Asked the remunerative value of an appointment as minister in the Shagari government, a Nigerian observer replied: "It's priceless." The full magnitude of such practices will probably never be documented, though the present military government might try. Suffice it to say that in Nigeria the giving and taking of "considerations" has constituted an economy within an economy. 1 The elections of 1983, w h i c h returned Shagari to power for a second four-year term, were marred by crude political manipulation of constitutional agencies and, finally, outright tampering with the electoral machinery. N o r was the Shagari c a m p alone guilty of such activities, though the opposition naturally had fewer opportunities. While many Nigerians believe that not all these scurrilous acts were instigated or approved by the president, it nonetheless f o l l o w s that Shagari lent himself to the purposes of a rogue government—perhaps meaning to serve the higher ends of Nigerian unity and/or to preserve the strategic position of his own northern culture and society. CRISIS MISMANAGEMENT By hapless circumstance, Shagari's tenure coincided with a disastrous drop in world oil prices, a crippling squeeze on international credit, and the deterioration of Nigeria's currency, the naira, together with its balance of trade. T h e attempt to c o m p l y with O P E C n o r m s w a s yet another burden. C o m b i n e d , these exigencies led to chronic disruption and degeneration of essential public services such as electricity, water, and medical care—all already problematic—as well as to rampant inflation, sharply rising unemployment, and a daunting increase in the cost and scarcity of food and other basic commodities that

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Nigeria was importing imprudently in the balmier days of the oil boom. 2 By 1981, Nigeria could no longer meet its outstanding commercial obligations. The administration of the primary and secondary school system w a s virtually in d e f a u l t , t e a c h e r s o f t e n went unpaid, and scholarship students studying abroad w e r e frequently left financially stranded. The nineteen state governments of the Federal Republic were as guilty of fiscal irresponsibility as the national government, but Lagos controlled the economic summit and in many parts of the country had the least credibility. This behavior not only destroyed the government's claim to legitimacy but undermined its ability to instill discipline even among its own civil servants, who often functioned as authorities unto themselves. For example, the police frequently operated bribe-traps on Nigerian roads, yet they were unable to cope effectively with an epidemic of increasingly well-organized and violent crime. 3 They also ventured into surveillance of the press, making some bizarre arrests of prominent journalists who openly scorned them, yet few if any Nigerians went to jail for official embezzlement, negligence, or fraud. The g o v e r n m e n t ' s belated attempts to introduce a program of austerity understandably faltered and earned little voluntary support, though it w a s unquestionably necessary to avoid economic collapse. When, during the last election campaign, supporters of Shagari and his National Party of Nigeria (NPN) demonstrated that even in the face of economic disaster they would employ any means to retain power, the Shagari government lost all credibility as a patriotic administration. Further, after the elections Shagari undermined his own call for reform by reappointing ministers with the worst reputations for corruption and high-handedness. At a time when the steep economic decline was causing severe hardships, confidence in government was nonexistent. GNARLED ROOTS It might appear to the outsider that the Shagari government represented simply the cause and not the effect of democratic failure in Nigeria, but Nigerians know better. It seems unfair to say that Nigerians have thus far got the governments they deserve, but it is not unfair to say that the instability and ineffectiveness of the national government derives partly from social tendencies that inhibit the emergence of decisive and legitimate national leadership. Apart f r o m h u m a n venality, h o w e v e r serious, N i g e r i a n leaders have m a d e poor defenders of the national interest because Nigeria as an idea remains tenuous and deficient. If the course of democracy has been precarious, the concept of a state—in the sense of a moral relationship between society and some maxim u m a u t h o r i t y — h a s b e e n e v e n w e a k e r . T h e d e s u l t o r y c o n d i t i o n of the Nigerian state is an echo of the classic Hobbesian caveat: If the Leviathan is not morally disinterested, then issues of civic obligation and virtue do not arise. 4 Neither democracy nor any other institutionalized system of order can be sustained in such a climate. The tragedy of Nigeria is that it is incorporated

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as a national unit in the absence of a commitment to a national good. 5 The primary cause for this lack of commitment is the severely plural composition of Nigeria's indigenous population (approximately 80 million), a pluralism that involves not only ethnic, linguistic, and cultural cleavages between several groups of the size and character of nations, but also a religious diversity (primarily Muslim north, Christian south) fraught with the potential for violent conflict. Despite the dreams of dedicated Nigerian nationalists, national institutions and identity today exercise less of a hold on popular sentiment than at any time since the nation's founding. To appreciate the plight of democracy in both the First Nigerian Republic (1960-66) and the Second (1979-83), one must understand the Nigerians' association of colonialism with d e m o c r a c y — a s something done to them rather than at their behest. Democratic institutions were initially adopted in Nigeria partly as a means of placing pressure on the colonial power to grant independence—a way of hoisting the British on their own moral pretensions. T h e f o r m a l c o n v e r s i o n f r o m a British p a r l i a m e n t a r y f r a m e w o r k to an American-style presidential system in 1979 was an experiment based upon concrete Nigerian experience, notably the tendency for the freewheeling competition of the parliamentary system to degenerate into political enmity. At their very worst, these impulses led to a bitter civil war (1967-70) that claimed a million Nigerian lives. The old constitution relied primarily on federalism and strong provisions for civil rights and liberties; the new constitution of 1979 added additional checks and balances, and it deliberately stipulated and restricted the permissible style and structure of political parties in order to place a premium on national organization. At the same time, Nigerians have generally insisted that the basic aspects of their traditional political institutions at the subnational level are in keeping with the essential tenets of democratic ideals and practice. Indeed, Nigerians as individuals are notably assertive, insistent on sometimes divergent standards of justice, intent on self-improvement, economically and socially resourceful, culturally and religiously idealistic, and, perhaps above all, given to intense forms of political action. To this extent, Nigerian identification with democracy is spontaneous and authentic. The norms and expectations on which the massive Nigerian subcultures diverge significantly are too involved to elaborate upon here. It is enough to say that these subnational communities tend to judge each other by mutually exclusive criteria and that such antithetical cross-perceptions have been reinforced by the apprehension that, given the chance, members of these local communities will act against the vital interests of other communities. For this reason, among others, democracy is attractive to most Nigerians and is even essential to them. But within this same context it also becomes clear why Nigerians are overwhelmingly cynical about any notion of the higher aims of government,

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democratic or otherwise. Succinctly, the interests of a community are a moral end; the national state is an amoral object—a minimum, even suspect, device that is a necessary concession to the incorporation of Nigeria as an entity. The Nigerian state serves as a financial conduit for sectional political forces. It follows from this that the resources of the state are popularly viewed as an appropriate source of exploitation for the greater good of local communities. When it comes to pursuing public objectives that transcend local commitments, state structures are a matter of indifference, if not contempt. Public officials are constantly importuned by citizens to bend the processes of the state to accommodate their local commitments and identities. If an official gets carried away in the direction of personal excess, it is more a matter for community reaction than for state reform. The widely celebrated "Big Man" in Nigeria is often the one who takes from the state but shares his largesse with people of his own community. In this respect, the moral incapacity of the Nigerian state is endemic. These considerations prompted the formulation of special constitutional measures for the Second Republic, imposing new strictures on the rules of political competition and also introducing a new focus of power—the office of the president—in the hope that a national political force might emerge. That the hope was dashed will be no less a worry for the new military rulers as they attempt to govern than it was when they intervened. History and this analysis suggest that neither charisma nor coercion will be adequate to transform the country of Nigeria into a nation. Nevertheless, any authority, democratic or not, that actually succeeds ir, communicating the vital benefits of national incorporation and demonstrating them over a substantial period of time would certainly make a contribution toward that end. In this sense, Nigeria's situation is historical rather than congenital. And in Nigeria, as elsewhere in Africa and other parts of the Third World, it is in this context that military figures—with their presumed connection to norms of self-sacrifice, structure, and transcendent values—excite high expectations. 6

CHALLENGES AHEAD The new government of General Buhari faces a number of problems of shortterm crisis management and others with long-term structural implications. Nigeria is currently $20-25 billion in debt and otherwise economically demoralized. Within OPEC, Nigeria's oil balances are likely to become worse before they get better. Pressure to remain within the organization will be strong, however, especially from civil servants who generally believe in the efficacy of administered solutions to economic problems. Under these circumstances, and even if oil prices rise, it will be some while before Nigeria recovers its reputation as a country that pays its bills. The coup itself may further dampen investment. Other major economic impediments include Nigeria's crushing rate of

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population growth, estimated at 3.0-3.5 per cent, and the need to formulate an economic strategy in the absence of any operating plan, ideological blueprint, or consensus. T h e new leaders will also be weighing the pros and cons of obtaining a sizable I M F loan to permit rescheduling of Nigeria's debt; though apparently necessary to the re-establishment of a healthy climate for foreign trade and investment, it would involve such measures as devaluation and the worsening of immediate hardship. One option is to reorient the Nigerian economy toward the private sector. Governments of the recent past, including the military regimes, have tended to hold Nigerian businessmen at arms length or to revile them as little more than smugglers, profiteers, and tax evaders. This treatment, deserved or not, is another b y - p r o d u c t of the k l o n d i k e a t m o s p h e r e created by s u d d e n oil wealth, the insatiable multinational demand for on-the-scene connections, and the general willingness to offer or accede to p a y o f f s to facilitate business transactions. 7 Thus, while the private sector is nearly as corrupt as the public domain, it nevertheless must be enlisted in the cause of economic recovery. In Africa, as elsewhere, even a clean bureaucracy is in no position to produce wealth. In the final analysis, it will take a productive economic sector to free the Nigerian consumer from a price level of trade g o o d s related less to the costs of production and distribution than to the cumulative impact of extortions and gratuities. That figure w a s recently estimated to have reached 30 per cent of the value of contracts and is considered responsible for a much higher percentage of inflation in the price of g o o d s and commodities. In the last decade, migration to urban areas has far exceeded the cities' capacity for employment or for providing essential urban services. The government must either forcibly stem the tide, providing inducements to stay in the countryside, or help the private sector generate new employment opportunities. Each of these options can easily backfire, as could inaction. A policy to stimulate higher labor productivity entails a disciplined and fairly treated labor force, a development that has eluded every Nigerian government to date. 8 When political outlets have been unavailable, the general strike has been the first refuge of the Nigerian worker. In such a circumstance, military regimes have found it particularly hard to avoid a vicious cycle of social wrath and repression. Nigeria has been no exception. To overcome this tendency the government must d e v e l o p a structure of representation that permits e f f e c t i v e response to reasonable grievances, avoiding the deadly embrace of state control. 9 The performance of the agricultural sector has b e c o m e crucial. U n l e s s it improves substantially, the foreign e x c h a n g e u s e d to feed its people will i n c r e a s i n g l y r e d u c e p r o d u c t i v e i n v e s t m e n t a n d N i g e r i a will f o r f e i t any p r o s p e c t s f o r s u s t a i n e d d e v e l o p m e n t . B o t h the f o r m e r military p r o g r a m Operation F e e d the Nation and the G r e e n R e v o l u t i o n of S h a g a r i ' s N P N were destroyed through political patronage and personal clientage. Working farmers were the least well situated to participate in the buying and selling of favors.

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The success of the various World Bank schemes currently operating in the country will depend finally upon effective transfer of responsibility from the present crop of foreign administrators and technologists to trained native Nigerians. Little time is available, given the existing three-year timetable; but extending the expatriates' contracts would be expensive and politically objectionable. An alternative route—regeneration of the atrophied system of local government in the countryside—presents another dilemma. Will reviving a role for traditional authorities exert a socially retrograde influence? On the other hand, can a regime weak in popular roots possibly forgo such a readymade means of popular mobilization and compliance? Given the sharply different circumstances in the north and south, no general answer is acceptable. The obvious conclusion is that military authority is no more capable of resolving these managerial problems than is civilian rule. Much the same is true in the even more imponderable area of state-building. For example, the deepening impact on Nigeria of the latest cycle of Sahelian drought poses an immediate dilemma. A program of foreign food aid may become an urgent need just as pressures are mounting internally for Nigeria to reassert something of the same independence in foreign relations that helped to bolster the domestic popularity of the previous Nigerian military regime. In this matter, humanitarian responsibility may be uncomfortably at variance with the cultivation of a political mystique. If the shortcomings of the civilian politicians have been transparent, the deeper vulnerabilities and proclivities of Nigerian society will not automatically dissolve in the face of armed authority. Rather, in the past the military has failed to solve the problems it may have intended to displace, while adding others such as the coup, countercoup, and counter-countercoup. It was two military governments, after all, that conducted the Nigerian civil war. As a northern Muslim, Buhari will be scrutinized for signs of seeking to perpetuate northern d o m i n a n c e — a test that Shagari never passed despite having placed his government in virtual receivership to a broad coalition of sectional interests within his party. A conservative on matters of ideology and social relations, Buhari is not likely to win the allegiance of the leftwing intellectuals w h o predominate in the universities and w h o are no doubt represented among the younger military officers of lower rank—those w h o present the most immediate threat. The very manner of Buhari's emergence as head of state—selection by a nineteen-man military council—indicates a form of political process. There are also indications that the timing of the latest c o u p w a s preemptive, to forestall action by another faction. If, as experience shows, Nigeria's ethnic cleavages and conflicts are mirrored within the military, then an ability to satisfy the Nigerian military is actually inseparable f r o m the demand to indulge the special interests of the powerful ethnic communities.

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ISLAM AND LEGITIMACY T h o u g h so far limited in n u m b e r and influence, admirers of the Ayatollah Khomeini exist a m o n g northern Muslims and can be expected to grow more v o c a l and i n f l u e n t i a l , e s p e c i a l l y w e r e d i s c o n t e n t to s p r e a d . D e s p i t e the impression prevalent in southern Nigeria that Islam in the north is essentially an antisouthern force, M u s l i m politicians have themselves been vulnerable to the drive for Islamic reaffirmation, which is uncompromisingly hostile to the very national institutions through which most important Muslim leaders have c o m e to prominence. Naturally, these politicians have been motivated and well situated to contain these alienated elements, even when it has required massive use of force. Such w a s the case in 1981, when Nigerian troops were used to wipe out the so-called Maitatsine sect in Kano. At first glance it might appear that challenges to the secular authority of the Nigerian state are more likely to be held in check by a military government. In fact, by removing the locus of authority f r o m civilian communities, a military government may not have as much opportunity to counter these elements as the Muslim politicians. Indeed, a praetorian national ruler w h o stakes a claim to righteous leadership and, like Buhari, is a Muslim may be particularly s u s c e p t i b l e to the call f o r a purer f o r m of I s l a m — o r for an Islamic state. It has been generally understood in Nigeria that such an appeal would be incompatible with the continuance of Nigeria as an entity. Thus, the real danger to Nigeria has never been an outbreak of jihad between north and south but support for those visions of separatism that have haunted the country from the beginning. Only time will tell whether prolonged military rule will blunt or sharpen the thrust of Islamic revivalism in Nigeria. The connection of this t h e m e to anti-Westernism is noteworthy. In northern Nigeria, as in Iran, Islamic revivalism has gained as a means to fill the moral vacuum left by a weak secular state. Partly the reflection of a fervent transcendental spirit, it also flourishes as a reaction to the perceived complicity of Western governments and business enterprises in the corrupt practices of degenerate secular states. This time around it seems clear the Nigerian military will be far less disposed to forsake power in the n a m e of democratic norms as such and will be far more concerned with the ability of Nigeria simply to endure. As has happened before, it may take the fear that the Nigerian political drama is about to be played out with bullets instead of rigged ballots to m o v e the military out. The situation affords still another possibility: that Buhari or the S u p r e m e Military Council will sponsor s o m e kind of popular movement to imbue the Nigerians with a deeper sense of statehood, marshalling the necessary civilian arts of negotiation, reconciliation, and c o m p r o m i s e . Otherwise, eventually there may be agonizing discussions to alter the terms of incorporation, perhaps to establish s o m e f o r m of confederation. In any event, to attempt to govern Nigeria is to undertake a formidable, creative task.

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NOTES 1. For a full exposition of this point, see Richard Joseph, "Class, State, and Prebendal Politics in Nigeria," Journal of Commonwealth and Comparative Studies 21, 3 ( N o v e m b e r 1983); and Sayre P. Schatz, "Pirate Capitalism and the Inert Economy of Nigeria," The Journal of Modern African Studies 2 2 , 1 (1984). 2. Sayre P. Schatz, "Nigeria's Petro-Political Fluctuation," in C. S. Whitakcr (ed.), Perspectives on the Second Republic in Nigeria (Waltham 1981), 35-39. 3. Otwin Marenin, "The Amini Saga," Journal of Modern African Studies 25,2 (1987), 259-281. 4. On the subject of legitimacy and the state as interrelated concepts, see William Connolly (ed.), Legitimacy and the State (Oxford 1984). 5. For an a c c o u n t of the e m e r g e n c e of national statehood in E u r o p e , see Gianfranco Poggi, The Development of the Modern State: A Sociological Introduction (Stanford 1978). 6. Keith Panter-Brick (ed.), Soldiers and Oil: the Political Transformation of Nigeria (London 1978). 7. Richard L. Sklar and Geoffrey Bergen explore the ways in which mineral wealth has affected African countries generally. Sklar and Bergen, "Mineral Industries and Development in Sub-Saharan Africa," in Anatoly A. Gromyko and C. S. Whitaker (eds.), Agenda for Action: African-Soviet-U.S. Cooperation (Boulder 1990). 8. Wogu Ananaba, The Trade Union Movement in Nigeria (London 1969). 9. On the importance to sustained democracy of free interest group representation and competition see Arthur Kornhauser, Robert Dubin, and Arthur M. Ross, Industrial Conflict (New York 1954).

14 Reds and Rights: Zimbabwe's Experiment Richard L. Sklar

In this day and age, Marxism-Leninism is the leading and least parochial theory of social revolution in Africa, Asia, and Latin America. It strongly appeals to intellectuals who believe that capitalist imperialism in "neocolonial" forms perpetuates social injustice on a world scale; and that a "conscious minority" or vanguard of the downtrodden should establish a "developmental dictatorship" 1 dedicated to the pursuit of e c o n o m i c and social progress. Since the death of Mao Zedong and the subsequent repudiation of his economic theories in China, 2 collectivism as an economic strategy has been reassessed and found wanting in other countries whose leaders are disposed to learn from China. For example, in the People's Republic of the Congo, where collectivist methods, inspired by Marxism-Leninism have been discarded in favor of entrepreneurial methods, the minister of agriculture has said simply, "Marxism without revenue is Marxism without a future." 3 Opportune shifts f r o m doctrinaire collectivism to pragmatism by the rulers of Marxist-Leninist regimes do not, of course, signify political conversions from dictatorial to democratic beliefs. Yet the ability of a ruling group or political party to change course in response to national needs despite doctrinal rigidities should not be underappreciated. At the very least, evidence of ideological flexibility can be used to counteract a manichaean tendency in American political thought that tends to pit "our" good intentions against "their" evil designs in the minds of prominent national leaders and influential persons. To illustrate such rock-bottom reliance upon negative ideological stereotypes by architects of American foreign policy, this assertion by the National Bipartisan Commission on Central America can be cited: "Regimes created by the victory of Marxist-Leninist guerrillas become totalitarian. That is their purpose, their nature, their doctrine, and their record." 4 That language leaves little room for principled political cooperation b e t w e e n the g o v e r n m e n t s of liberal d e m o c r a c i e s and those of A n g o l a , Mozambique, or Zimbabwe, not to speak of Nicaragua, Vietnam, or China. Apart from the practical political effects of anathematization, this particular analytical effect should also be recognized: it virtually precludes any serious Originally published in Issue 14 (1985), 2 9 - 3 3 . Reprinted by permission of the author and the African Studies Association.

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assessment of democratic practices in Marxist-Leninist regimes. For the very idea of democratic development under Marxist-Leninist auspices has been excluded from consideration by an ideological edict. Hence the value of evidence that appears to disconfirm a notoriously prejudicial opinion. It is often alleged that in Marxist-Leninist systems, the rule of law is illusory while the rights of citizens are routinely violated for reasons of state. Such fears have surfaced in Z i m b a b w e with the determination of Prime Minister Robert Mugabe and other national leaders to establish a one-party state based on avowed Marxist-Leninist principles. 5 In August 1984, the ruling party's first Congress since Zimbabwe became independent, in 1980, adopted a new, communist-type organization: there is now a politburo; Mr. M u g a b e ' s office of party president has been combined with that of First Secretary; and democratic centralism has been proclaimed as the party's operational code. Furthermore, the Congress also resolved to establish a College of Marxism-Leninism. In Zimbabwe, as elsewhere, Marxist-Leninists believe in the necessity of a vanguard party, one that is dedicated to a theory of society which they believe to be scientifically correct. In power, the vanguard party undertakes to enforce its political truth as an official orthodoxy. Dissent, then, becomes dangerous and subversive, verging on treason at the discretion of the authorities. Normally, ideological criteria are applied for appointments to all positions that come under the jurisdiction of government. These include courts, administrative positions, university appointments, etc. Against that background, I wish to assess the durability of pluralistic defenses for liberty in Zimbabwe—the potential for their survival and growth under the aegis of a regime that is deeply committed to the establishment of a m o n o p o l i t i c a l o r d e r . I shall rely u p o n e v i d e n c e p r o d u c e d m a i n l y by Zimbabwe's courts, both because it is strikingly consistent and because the role of courts is often overlooked or underestimated by students of political economy. I shall briefly describe a few selected judgments involving constitutional rights in Zimbabwe and reflect upon their implications for the evolution of government in that country. 6 COURTS AND RIGHTS The first of these judgments, The State v Slatter and Others,1 was widely noted outside of Zimbabwe. In July 1982, undetected saboteurs destroyed or damaged thirteen Zimbabwean military aircraft, various buildings at the main air base, and other equipment. Despite the fact that no eye witnesses were produced, eleven air force officers, all whites, were arrested. Six of them, including the Chief of Staff and Chief of Operations, were tried for sabotagerelated offenses on the basis of confessions that were subsequently alleged to have been extracted by means of torture. In July 1983, they were acquitted by J u d g e - P r e s i d e n t E n o c h D u m b u t s h e n a in the H i g h Court of Z i m b a b w e .

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Dumbutshena's judgment is remarkable for its detailed description of the methods of interrogation, including intimidation and torture, employed by the police. Furthermore, it had been established beyond question that the accused were denied access to counsel, beaten, and repeatedly moved at night to forestall discovery of their whereabouts until they had confessed. The judgment is unequivocal in its condemnation of police conduct that was violative of both the Constitution and the Criminal Procedure and Evidence Act, and contrary to general principles of police procedure in constitutional democracies, particularly those enunciated by Chief Justice Earl Warren in the famous American case, Miranda v Arizona.8 Immediately following their acquittal, the six appellants were rearrested under preventive detention regulations by order of an angered Minister of Home Affairs. However, the High Court's judgment eventually prevailed: the officers were released at intervals over a five-month period. Moreover, the judgment in Slatter powerfully reinforced the effect of several previous decisions in which constitutional rights had been vindicated in the face of administrative abuse. At issue in those cases were the rights of persons who were subject to preventive detention, meaning imprisonment by executive action without trial and beyond the normal jurisdiction of courts. The Constitution of Zimbabwe confers upon detainees rights to appoint and consult with counsel, and to timely, periodic reviews of the detention by an administrative tribunal. 9 Preventive detention in Zimbabwe is authorized by regulations under the Emergency Powers Act, which Parliament has renewed every six months, continuing a practice begun by its Rhodesian predecessor in 1965. This act has been used frequently and routinely by Mugabe's government to circumvent the normal legislative process; hence regulations have been issued for numerous purposes that bear little relation to emergency matters. The second judgment to which I shall refer involved regulations under the Emergency Powers Act concerning the forfeiture of enemy property. In this case, Minister of Home Affairs v Bickle,10 a white citizen of Zimbabwe had divided his property, including a ranch and other business interests, among his three children. He did so while he was in custody on charges of having violated the law by flying a private airplane to and from South Africa; these flights bypassed the legal ports of exit and entry. On one such flight, he carried a South African intelligence agent into Zimbabwe, although he denied having had knowledge of the fact that the individual was a foreign agent. Fined and released from custody, Bickle fled Zimbabwe for South Africa, fearing rearrest for violation of security laws. The Minister of Home Affairs then seized his property under the Forfeiture of Enemy Property Regulations. Bickle and his children then sought legal redress on the ground that the regulations, themselves, were contrary to the Declaration of Rights in Chapter III of the Constitution of Zimbabwe, particularly Section 16, which prohibits compulsory acquisition of private property by the state except for specified reasons and in accordance with prescribed procedures and safeguards.

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In the Bulawayo High Court, Judge Roger Korsah ruled that the regulations were unconstitutional and that the properties taken should be restored to their rightful owners. Fundamental rights, he declared, should be given a "generous interpretation" so that individuals can enjoy them in their "full measure." The Constitution, he observed, had been designed for a r e c o n c i l i a t i o n i s t era after a p r o l o n g e d c i v i l war and w i t h a v i e w to the a c c e s s i o n to p o w e r o f a post-revolutionary g o v e r n m e n t . A n d that is w h y private property and d u e p r o c e s s o f l a w are not o n l y spelt out in minute detail, but are entrenched b y s 5 2 . O n c e tempers had c o o l e d a bit and the reconciliation had p r o g r e s s e d for ten years, then the citizens of Z i m b a b w e can l o o k again to s e e w h e t h e r they still n e e d these protections e n s h r i n e d . 1 1

The implications of this judgment are far-reaching. Not only would the Constitution prevail over acts of Parliament that are inconsistent with it, but the entrenched clauses of the Constitution, including the entire Declaration of Rights, would also appear to have a special or preferred status. Section 52 provides that for ten years from the date of independence—until 1990—entrenched clauses cannot be amended save by the affirmative votes of all members of the House of Assembly. Since freedom of association and the right to form political parties is guaranteed (Section 21) and entrenched, the ruling party—Zimbabwe African National Union (ZANU)—would not be able to create a one-party state before 1990, unless it could control all 100 votes in the House of Assembly, which is hardly likely. Moreover, the Prime Minister has often declared that, as a matter of principle, the Constitution will be respected by his Government and followed. The High Court's judgment in Bickle was affirmed by the Supreme Court on appeal without, however, reaching the question of constitutionality with respect to the regulations on forfeiture of enemy property. The Supreme Court was satisfied to say that Bickle was not properly identified as an " e n e m y " according to law, since Z i m b a b w e was not at war with South Africa; hence his property should not have been seized in the first place. 12 However, in August 1984, the Supreme Court met the question of incompatibility between the Constitution and a statutory law directly; and its decision was rendered without equivocation. In that case, 1 3 a lawyer, engaged in taking photographs at the scene of an automobile accident, was arrested by security policemen—members of the Central Intelligence Organization—and charged with having deliberately photographed their passing vehicle. In custody, he was beaten by the police and threatened with prosecution under the Official Secrets Act, which could result in a sentence of twenty-five years imprisonment. In response to the aggrieved lawyer's suit, the Minister of Home Affairs asserted that members of the intelligence police were rendered immune to prosecution by regulations under the Emergency Powers Act that indemnify the Security Forces. Since Section 13 of the Constitution protects personal liberty, and specifies

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that "any person who is unlawfully arrested or detained" shall be entitled to compensation from the responsible person or authority, 1 4 the Constitution could not be upheld without declaring the regulations (a statutory instrument) unconstitutional. A unanimous court found for the plaintiff and awarded damages with costs. In addition to its importance as a landmark of constitutional law and liberty in Zimbabwe, this judgment may have a salutary effect in western Z i m b a b w e (Matabeleland), where security forces have repressed armed dissidence with apparent disregard for the rights of citizens. 1 5 FEASIBLE PLURALISM The Constitution of Zimbabwe embodies a political compromise, accepted with reluctance by the confident leaders of an irrepressible liberation movement at the Lancaster House (London) conference of 1979. 1 6 Mugabe and his associates did not and still do not like various key provisions, including the reservation of twenty seats in the House of Assembly for whites (who then comprised under 3 percent of the population), the entrenchment of pension rights for senior civil servants, and the entrenched protection against expropriation of land and other forms of private property. Yet there has been strict and principled compliance with the letter of the Constitution and few flagrant departures from its spirit—for example, not an inch of land has been acquired in violation of the Constitution. In cases decided by the High and Supreme Courts which have involved infringements of the Constitution by executive authorities, the j u d g e s have regularly insisted upon corrective action and, where appropriate, restitution. Three features of the Zimbabwean judicial process to date are especially noteworthy: ( 1 ) the a b s e n c e of political criteria in appointments to the "bench," i.e., judges of the High Court and the Supreme Court. Judges are appointed by the President (a titular head of state) upon recommendation of the Judicial Service Commission; however, the Chief Justice of Zimbabwe is appointed by the President, "acting on the advice of the Prime Minister," 1 7 who must consult with the Judicial Service Commission but is not bound by its advice. It is not to be overlooked that Judge Enoch Dumbutshena was elevated to the Supreme Court and appointed Chief Justice shortly after his forthright and highly controversial judgment in the airmen case (The State v Slatter). (2) The absence of political calculation in assigning judges to cases appears to be a matter of pride for those engaged in the administration of justice. (3) Despite occasional outbursts of bad temper, 1 8 the Government has usually evinced respect for judicial decisions. In January 1984, a staunch advocate of judicial independence, former Minister of Justice and professor of law, Dr. S i m b i M u b a k o , w a s appointed Minister of H o m e A f f a i r s . In August, he made this characteristic statement in an address to officers at the Army Staff College:

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A judge must be loyal to the State yet be impartial even in a case involving the State. This means even in a highly sensitive political case he may have to pronounce judgment against the State if the facts and the evidence lead inevitably to that conclusion. In the last two years we saw several examples of such cases which could be interpreted as a sign of impartiality and independence of the judiciary or as a sign of disloyalty and sabotage of the State. It should be remembered that the independence of the judiciary is entrenched in the constitution and we want it so; we pay our judges to be independent and they are. 19 Not only the courts, but administrative tribunals too have been protected against overbearing political pressure. The most important e x a m p l e is the R e v i e w T r i b u n a l f o r c a s e s of p r e v e n t i v e d e t e n t i o n , p r e s c r i b e d by the Constitution 2 0 and established under Emergency Powers Regulations. I have been informed by knowledgeable persons that appointments to this Tribunal have been made without regard to political criteria. Indeed the Tribunal was, at first, chaired by the strictly non-political national Ombudsman, who is also a Judge of the High Court. Only a person who is qualified for appointment as a High Court j u d g e can serve as chair of this Tribunal. A c c o r d i n g to the Constitution, the case of every detainee must be reviewed at least once every six months. Although the proceedings and evidence are confidential, I w a s told by k n o w l e d g e a b l e p e r s o n s during J u l y and A u g u s t , 1 9 8 4 , that the Government had thus far complied with all recommendations of the Review Tribunal. Why then, I asked, had B i s h o p Abel M u z o r e w a , a former prime minister, currently a member of Parliament and leader of an opposition political party, not been released? The only answers I could elicit were speculative, since the accusations against B i s h o p Muzorewa were secret. He had been arrested on November 1, 1983, on vague charges involving alleged collusion with S o u t h A f r i c a n e l e m e n t s . 2 1 E v e n t u a l l y , in S e p t e m b e r 1 9 8 4 , he w a s r e l e a s e d , p r e s u m a b l y on the r e c o m m e n d a t i o n o f the D e t a i n e e R e v i e w Tribunal. In constitutional democracies, political pluralism is manifest in various forms. Of prime importance is the right of citizens to organize political associations, or parties, to compete for control of the government. N o less significance should be attached to the autonomy of courts and those administrative tribunals which act to restrain the exercise of political power and administrative authority. Pluralism within the structure of government itself exemplifies the idea of divided power, a concept that lies at the heart of the theory of constitutional g o v e r n m e n t . 2 2 T h e true test of constitutional g o v e r n m e n t will always reveal the presence or, as negative evidence, the absence, of built-in mechanisms for governmental self-control. Strictly s p e a k i n g , there is no theory of constitutional g o v e r n m e n t in Marxism-Leninism, which is not to say that Marxism-Leninism and constitutional government are necessarily incompatible. Indeed, the Eurocommunist m o v e m e n t of Italy, S p a i n , a n d ( b e l a t e d l y ) F r a n c e , s e e k s to r e c o n c i l e

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Marxism-Leninism with democratic pluralism. However, the rationale for constitutional government, based upon the precept of divided power as an end-in-itself, does not emerge from Marxist-Leninist teachings. A theory and practice of divided, as opposed to consolidated power, embracing judicial independence and judicial review, would enrich and alter the practice of "scientific socialism" as we know it today. In the universe of Marxist-Leninist states, a practice of government based on the idea of divided power would be new and different. While it was envisioned by Czechoslovakian Communists under Alexander Dubcek in 1968, as it is in Eurocommunist thought today, it has yet to be experienced in the communist state sector. A fusion of constitutionally limited government with Marxism-Leninism is not logically impossible; but its accomplishment would be both unprecedented and a distinctive contribution to Marxist-Leninist practice. In the event of a one-party state in Zimbabwe, other forms of pluralism would assume degrees of political importance reminiscent of intellectual, religious, and trade union opposition to white supremacy in Rhodesia. Religious pluralism is deeply rooted; the contributions of church-based groups to democratic causes in Zimbabwe have been substantial—witness the watchdog reports of The Catholic Commission for Justice and Peace in Zimbabwe, which have monitored and criticized the government's exceedingly repressive and often brutal campaign against armed dissidents in Matabeleland. 23 One of the Commission's "main aims" is stated thus: "to get information on actual acts of injustice and violations of human rights in order to help the victims in any way we can" 24 Similarly, artists and writers in Zimbabwe are prone to resist intrusions upon their creative activities. Thus, the Zimbabwe Writers' Union has protested the prohibition of both publication and performance of a play with political overtones by the Minister of Home Affairs under Emergency Powers Regulations. 25 Concerning freedom of the press, an independent Catholic monthly journal of public affairs, Moto, and an emphatically liberal weekly newspaper, The Financial Gazette, are widely read by the intelligentsia. Two government-owned newspapers, the daily Herald and Sunday Mail, frequently publish liberal and democratic socialist viewpoints, especially letters to the editor, that criticize ZANU party policies. When The Herald published the Prime Minister's extended defense of the one-party, Marxist-Leninist state, it featured a cogent rebuttal in the form of a letter to the editor on the same page. 26 Furthermore, the national university is robustly pluralistic and will probably so remain regardless of the form of government that emerges when all portions of the Constitution of Zimbabwe become amendable by normal procedures. In the sphere of economic activities, pluralism is grounded in the existence of a prosperous business and commercial farming sector that supplies the revenue required to finance social services on a grand scale, e.g., free primary education, subsidized secondary education, and free health care for

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those who earn less than Z $ 1 5 0 ( U S $ 1 3 0 ) per month—more than 75 percent of the population. 2 7 A firm partnership unites Zimbabwe's avowedly revolutionary government with its capitalist elite, now valued by the government as an asset of incomparable worth for the pursuit of policies to cope with the exigent p r o b l e m s of poverty, unemployment, and exponential population growth—approximately 4 percent per year. (The estimated 1984 population is 8 million.) Long-term and stable partnerships between communist rulers and the capitalist elements of their countries are no longer exceptional. It only remains to be seen whether Zimbabwe will devise and perfect safeguards for the autonomy and genuine representation of small as well as large farmers and businessmen. A n even greater challenge to pluralists of Marxist-Leninist persuasion will be posed by the demand for trade union autonomy, a fugitive idea in the world of communist governments that could be rehabilitated by Zimbabwean communists. The Government of Zimbabwe has proclaimed its dedication to the goal of " a truly socialist, egalitarian and democratic society in conditions of sustained growth and equity." 2 8 That aim implies a commitment to democratic pluralism; but there are no examples of democratic pluralism in political systems constructed along Marxist-Leninist lines. At this stage, it would be premature to say that the die is cast for communism in Zimbabwe. S o m e , such as Lord S o a m e s , the British Governor during Zimbabwe's transition to independence ( 1 9 7 9 - 1 9 8 0 ) , say that M u g a b e ' s ideological "rhetoric" is only intended to placate impatient revolutionaries in his party. 2 9 However, that interpretation may underestimate the fervor of M u g a b e ' s personal belief in MarxismLeninism and the one-party state. Might it not be more realistic to ponder the possibility that his, and the party's, avowed political objectives will, in due c o u r s e , b e attained without e x p u n g i n g the idea of d i v i d e d p o w e r f r o m Z i m b a b w e ' s Constitution and without detriment to the degree of economic and social pluralism that now obtains? Zimbabwe, then, would still be more liberal and pluralistic than either Tanzania or Zambia, both non-doctrinaire one-party states of socialist orientation. 3 0 It would surely be more liberal and pluralistic than Malawi and no less so than Kenya, both one-party states of capitalist orientation. M o r e than any other country in A f r i c a , Z i m b a b w e would be a meeting ground for communist and liberal ideas in practice; its p h i l o s o p h y and f o r m o f g o v e r n m e n t w o u l d i n s t i t u t i o n a l i z e the d e b a t e between those rival ideologies and clarify, if not supersede, standard issues and arguments. For s o m e devout anticommunists, it is an article of faith that MarxismLeninism cannot be reconciled with constitutionally limited government and individual liberty. At the opposite extreme, Marxism-Leninism is espoused by the faithful as an infallible guide to knowledge about the interests of working people. From that belief it is a small step to the conviction that governments controlled by Marxist-Leninists should be able to exercise power without let or hindrance by constitutional impediments. More pragmatic thinkers

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do not consign these matters to the realm of faith. T h o s e w h o w o u l d rather learn from experience may n o w wonder: Will a Marxist-Leninist regime in Z i m b a b w e r e a f f i r m the p r a c t i c e o f j u d i c i a l r e v i e w , the i n d e p e n d e n c e o f administrative tribunals, freedom of the press, the value o f a pluralistic university with an o p e n door to ideas, and f r e e d o m o f action for the various interest groups that impart vitality to social and e c o n o m i c life? Experience may yet again c o n f o u n d the True Believers.

NOTES This paper was prepared for a symposium on pluralism and democracy in Africa held under the auspices of The Center for International Affairs, Harvard University. The author wishes to thank Leslie Rubin for his encouragement and critique. 1. A. James Gregor, Italian Fascism and Developmental Dictatorship (Princeton 1979). 2. Orville Schell, "A Reporter At Large: The Wind of Wanting to Go it Alone," The New Yorker (January 23, 1984), 43-85. 3. Justine De Lacy, " T h e Congo: Western Investors N o w W e l c o m e , " The Atlantic (January 1984), 28. 4. Report of the National Bipartisan Commission on Central America (January 1984), 88. 5. Robert Mugabe, "The Construction of Scientific Socialism in Zimbabwe," The Herald (Harare July 10, 1984). 6. I am indebted to Dr. John Hatchard of the University of Zimbabwe School of Law, who made copies of judgments involving constitutional rights and detentions under the Emergency Powers Act available to me together with his guidance. His professional study of those judgments, rendered by the Zimbabwe High and Supreme Courts, is in progress. 7. HC-H-313-83 (mimeographed). 8. 384 U.S. 436: 1966. 9. Constitution of Zimbabwe, Schedule 2, Section 2. 10. Bickle and Others v Minister of Home Affairs, High Court of Zimbabwe, Bulawayo, 1983 (mimeographed): Minister of Home Affairs v Bickle and Others, Zimbabwe Supreme Court 1984 (2) 439. 11. A u t h o r ' s notes on Bickle and Others v Minister of Home Affairs, p. 18 (mimeographed). 12. ZSC 1984 (2), 450-451. 13. Granger v The Minister of State, Judgment No. S.C. 83/84, Application No. 25/84 (mimeographed). 14. Constitution of Zimbabwe, Section 13 (5). 15. Africa Confidential 25, 8 (April 11, 1984); Manchester Guardian Daily (May 20, 1984) 8 - 9 . 16. Colin Legum, "Southern Africa: The Road to and from Lancaster House," Africa Contemporary Record 12, 1979-80 (New York 1981), A10-12. 17. Constitution of Zimbabwe, Section 84 (1). 18. Africa Contemporary Record 15, 1 9 8 2 - 1 9 8 3 , B 8 9 8 ; R o n a l d Weitzer, " C o n t i n u i t i e s in the P o l i t i c s of S t a t e S e c u r i t y in Z i m b a b w e , " in M i c h a e l G. Schatzberg (ed.), The Political Economy of Zimbabwe (New York 1984), 97-99. 19. Press Statement, Department of Information, August 20, 1984. 20. Schedule 2 (2).

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21. Africa Research Bulletin (Political, Social and Cultural Series) 20 (11) (December 15, 1983), 7055-7056. 22. Carl J. Friedrich, Limited Government: A Comparison (Englewood Cliffs 1974). 23. Jonathan Steele, "Atrocities in Z i m b a b w e : Sifting Fact from R u m o u r , " Manchester Guardian Weekly (May 20, 1984), 8 - 9 . 24. The Catholic Commission for Justice and Peace in Zimbabwe, No. 1 (July 1983). 25. The Sunday Mail (Harare August 19, 1984). 26. The Herald (Harare July 10, 1984). 27. The Economist (London April 21, 1984), 9. 28. Government of the Republic of Zimbabwe, Growth With Equity: An Economic Policy Statement (February 1981), 19. 29. The Wall Street Journal (November 30, 1984). 30. See Cranford Pratt, "Tanzania's Transition to Socialism: Reflections of a Democratic Socialist," in Bismarck U. Mwansasu and Cranford Pratt (eds.), Towards Socialism in Tanzania ( T o r o n t o 1979), 1 9 3 - 2 3 6 ; and William T o r d o f f (ed.), Administration in Zambia (Manchester 1980).

15 Developmental Democracy Richard L. Sklar Political science has become a dismal science for most of the world. In the proverbial third world, where most people live, the "physical quality of life" 1 is often abysmal and liable to further deterioration. Steeped in "realism," political science foretells a future of dictatorial rule for most of those who face the prospect of increasing physical misery. Political scientists have described the new generation of third-world Leviathans precisely and vividly. The spirit of the beast is captured by A. James G r e g o r ' s conception of "developmental dictatorship." 2 Gregor has traced the origin of that idea to heretical Marxist theoreticians, w h o were active mainly in Italy and France during the first decade of the twentieth century. Having concluded that orthodox Marxism was not relevant to the prime problem of economic backwardness, which they identified as a weak bourgeoisie, they turned initially to revolutionary syndicalism, but ultimately to vanguard elitism and statism. Eventually, they emerged as fascists in Italy, while thinkers of a similar stamp became Bolshevik communists in Russia. By mid-century, their tradition w a s b e i n g perpetuated by ideologically diverse, mass-mobilizing dictators in many parts of the world. From all sectors of the ideological spectrum—left, center, right—analysts have asserted or conceded the historical necessity of developmental dictatorships to cope with the causes and consequences of economic underdevelopment. For example, in Latin American studies, Guillermo O ' D o n n e l l formulated the influential conception of "bureaucratic-authoritarianism;" 3 in African studies, Robert Jackson and Carl Rosberg find that "personal rule" is the norm for impoverished and politically unstable black Africa. 4 These and similar formulations proclaim the irrelevance of democratic forms of development in the third world. Samuel Huntington's pessimistic/realistic conclusion is neither deviant nor marginal among political scientists: The substantial power of anti-democratic governments (particularly the Soviet Union), the unreceptivity to democracy of several major cultural traditions, the difficulties of eliminating poverty in large parts of the world, and the prevalence of high levels of polarization and violence in many Originally published in Comparative Studies in Society and History 29, 4 (October 1987), 686-714. Reprinted by permission of the author and Cambridge University Press.

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s o c i e t i e s all s u g g e s t that, w i t h f e w e x c e p t i o n s , the l i m i t s o f d e m o c r a t i c d e v e l o p m e n t in the w o r l d m a y w e l l h a v e been reached. 5

Despairing of democracy as a form of government in the less-developed countries, many political scientists have endorsed the idea of developmental or modernizing oligarchy. With the exception of bold Elie Kedourie, h o w e v er, no prominent political theorist has disputed the thesis of universal development on the ground of cultural differentiation and resistance. 6 Kedourie's dismal v i e w merits attention because it exposes a naked truth: A s in Hans Christian A n d e r s e n ' s fable, the emperor is unclothed in public, meaning, in this context, that it is vain to pretend that current political theories of third world development are realistic. Their empirical validity, Kedourie suggests, is n a u g h t — e m p t y , like the hands of the chamberlains w h o pretend to carry the emperor's nonexistent train; they have lost their power to persuade. Nor does it really matter that K e d o u r i e ' s o w n explanation of retarded development is pejorative (he contends that A f r i c a n and A s i a n societies are v i c t i m i z e d b y their o w n d e s p o t i c traditions), and t h e r e f o r e l i k e l y to be derided f o r its e t h n o c e n t r i c i t y and d i s r e g a r d e d b y area s p e c i a l i s t s . T h e v a l i d i t y o f his particular theory is not a matter of p r a c t i c a l i m p o r t a n c e . Whether or not the theorists of development correctly explain the tragedies of our time, they cannot be explained away. H u m a n k i n d appears to have entered upon an era of appalling demographic, e c o l o g i c a l , and nutritional disasters. In every continental component of the third world, omitting East A s i a , agricultural e m p l o y m e n t lags behind growth o f the labor force; landlessness increases w h i l e land fragmentation impacts the smallholding, rather than l a r g e - s c a l e , f a r m e r ; f o o d p r o d u c t i o n d o e s not k e e p p a c e w i t h the g r o w t h in d e m a n d f o r a s u b s i s t e n c e diet; poverty and undernourishment engulf ever increasing millions of people. 7 For theories o f development, it could be said that the proof of the pudding is in the eating, and most people are without e n o u g h to eat. Lester R. B r o w n , president of Worldwatch Institute, anticipates a gradual shift of world attention from the East-West confrontation "to the deteriorating relationship between people and life-support systems that now threatens the security and survival o f so m a n y . " 8 Retarded development and the related growth of massive physical misery pose a challenge to scholars and scientists c o m p a r a b l e to the continuing m e n a c e o f nuclear w e a p o n r y . B o t h dangers have genocidal implications. To c o p e with the threat of nuclear warfare, political scientists have created a field of strategic studies. Its pre-eminent founder in the United States, Bernard Brodie, insisted that strategic theory "is nothing if not pragmatic... A b o v e a l l , " he wrote, "strategic theory is a theory for action." 9 With the s a m e sense o f urgency, political scientists n o w need to c o p e with the threat o f an i m p e n d i n g holocaust f r o m b e l o w . T h e o r i e s o f underdevelopment, designed to validate one or another ideological position

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are scarcely useful; they are intellectual curiosities. By contrast, theorizing for development is literally a matter of life or death. ABSENT: A POLITICAL T H E O R Y FOR

DEVELOPMENT

Development is a value-laden idea; it signifies progress toward the realization of desired goals. M a n y social scientists associate the idea of development with improvement in the quality of life. Since the physical quality of life for most people is n o w subject to catastrophic fluctuations, the focal arena of research on development problems in the third world is the delicate cycle of human nurture, involving crucial linkages between nutrition, health care, and basic education. Failures anywhere in that cycle weaken all of its component parts and produce life-threatening breakdowns. A m o n g social scientists, economists are foremost in their contributions to the quest for developmental theories. Economic theories for development include neo-Ricardian theories of comparative advantage and f r e e trade, 1 0 " i n t e r v e n t i o n i s t " t h e o r i e s of " u n b a l a n c e d g r o w t h , " 1 1 and the e q u i t a r i a n approach derived f r o m "basic n e e d s . " 1 2 By c o m p a r i s o n with e c o n o m i s t s , political scientists have been less imaginative. There are numerous theories of political development and modernization, but it is difficult to identify a political theory for development, that is, one that attempts to resolve problems that beset the cycle of human nurture. A political theory for development would be, first and foremost, a theory of political m e a n s , analogous to the practical c o n c e p t i o n s of e c o n o m i s t s . Many such ideas are, to be sure, implicit in the standard theories of political development and modernization, 1 3 but these intellectual arms are packed, so to s p e a k , in i d e o l o g i c a l g r e a s e a n d n o t a s s e m b l e d f o r p r a c t i c a l u s e . Understandably, third-world scholars have doubted whether the leading ideas of Western developmental theorists were designed for deployment in battles against capitalist, class, or neoimperialist domination. 1 4 Claude A k e ' s ringing denunciation of "Western social science scholarship on developing countries" as a f o r m of "imperialism in the guise of scientific knowledge" 1 5 can be faulted on the ground that he exempts "the Marxist tradition" and fails to recognize its inseparability f r o m "Western" social science. Yet his main point is taken to heart by many third-world intellectuals and scholars who have experienced a stultifying "tyranny of borrowed paradigms" and "received ideas." 1 6 For the time being, at least, they do not wish, nor do they need, to be enlightened by North A m e r i c a n s and E u r o p e a n s about the alleged principles of "political development." However, they do need, must discover, and may even borrow practical, problem-solving political theories regardless of their origins. A theory of political means, as distinct f r o m ends, would be a theory of social control and its conceptual counterpart, power. F o l l o w i n g Aristotle, political scientists have long distinguished between two primary forms of control and government, namely, democracy, literally "power of the people," and

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oligarchy, literally "rule of the few." 1 7 A s power-laden conceptions, democracy and oligarchy are the categories that most clearly identify the primary political theories of development. Since democracy and oligarchy are normally understood by theorists to be idealized conceptions, in-between theories that approximate the realities of third-world conditions would be welcome. While s o m e of them w o u l d surely tend toward oligarchy, others might resemble d e m o c r a c y a n d b e k n o w n , f o l l o w i n g R o b e r t A . D a h l a n d C h a r l e s E. Lindblom, as polyarchic. 1 8 However, the requisite conditions of polyarchy, including both the absence of "extreme inequalities in the distribution of key values" (for example, income, wealth, status, knowledge, power) 1 9 and, above all, a public opinion that values both political pluralism and constitutional government, are not often perceived by scholarly observers of the third world. Hence, the residue of theory for development that can be gleaned from comparative studies of political development at the present time is preponderantly oligarchic. Thus, Gabriel A l m o n d and G. Bingham Powell, affirming with Huntington and Joan M. Nelson the need to choose between economic growth and democratic political participation, hold out little hope for d e m o c r a t i c strategies of d e v e l o p m e n t . 2 0 T h e y find that Albert H i r s c h m a n ' s optimistic "reform-mongering" model, a polyarchic-type conception, was doomed to fail by the absence in third-world countries of "bargaining cultures" that would be conducive to compromise between reactionaries, progressives, and revolutionaries. 21 Their analysis exemplifies this widely accepted tenet of "realism": that democratic development depends upon a combination of economic, social, and cultural preconditions. It thereby conforms to a scholarly tradition that virtually precludes the possibility of a democratic theory for development because the idea that democracy, itself, may be the mainspring of development appears to put the proverbial cart before its horse. 2 2 T h o s e w h o f o r e c a s t o l i g a r c h i c rule f o r a g r o w i n g p r o p o r t i o n of the world's population may be right. But they cannot, in the face of overwhelming e v i d e n c e to the contrary, rationalize or s w e e t e n that c o n c l u s i o n as a developmental necessity. Nor can the political scientists among them escape designation as devotees of a doubly dismal science, one that explains dictatorship as an unavoidable, if not indeed necessary, condition of social order without also providing credible guidance for the alleviation of physical misery. Is it realistic to disregard democratic alternatives to dictatorial and oligarchic theories of development? Not if our perceptions of political reality in the third world are constricted and badly distorted by those very theories and their cultural biases.

DEMOCRACY IN PARTS The principles of democracy m a y be derived both by means of conceptual analysis 2 3 and w i t h r e f e r e n c e to empirical cases. 2 4 C o m p a r a t i v e empirical studies furnish a basis for classifications of political systems. O n e type of

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classification involves an over-all judgment of each political system with reference to selected criteria of democracy. Classifications based solely on liberal criteria, such as civil liberties and political rights, including "the right to participate in free competitive elections," 2 5 are liable to the criticisms of those who believe in the derivation of democratic criteria from communitarian, populist, and socialist, as well as liberal, currents of thought. Democracy, they contend, is a developing idea; its meaning is enriched by contributions from all cultures and nations. From that standpoint, democracy is not the property of one or another ideological camp; every country in the world is a veritable laboratory for the discovery of democratic principles and workshop for the construction of democratic machinery. Classifications that distinguish country-wide systems by type as democratic, partially democratic, or lessthan-democratic do not reveal the creative processes of democratic development. For that kind of insight, one must be familiar with the political forges and smithies of the third-world countries where the parts of new democracies are being wrought. Electoral

Democracy

In democratic forms of government, rulers are the stewards of the common weal, accountable to citizens for the conduct of their stewardships. Liberal democracies secure such accountability by means of democratic election for a fixed term: Citizens, w h o are free to express their views and form political associations, compete in elections at regular intervals for both governmental office and the related right to direct public policies. Following the strict application of these democratic criteria by Freedom House, 2 6 Arend Lijphart found that only twenty-six third-world countries qualified as democracies in 1980. 2 7 A similar, 1986 list of third-world electoral democracies is presented in Table 15.1; following Lijphart, it omits noncompetitive, dominant-party systems, such as those in Malaysia, Mexico, and Senegal. Of the thirty-one countries listed, twelve have populations of fewer than 500,000. Twelve of the remaining nineteen are in Latin America or the Caribbean, three are in Africa, two in Asia, and two in Oceania. None of these states appears on L i j p h a r t ' s more e x c l u s i v e list of t w e n t y - o n e long-term and c o n t i n u o u s democracies. Ten of them did not appear even on his list of short-term and noncontinuous democracies for 1980. Five countries that qualified in 1980 (The Gambia, Nigeria, Sri Lanka, Surinam, and Upper Volta [now Burkina Faso]) would no longer qualify in 1986. One country, Turkey, suffered a coup d'état in 1980 but restored electoral democracy in 1983. Evidently, electoral democracy is neither widely prevalent (outside the Western Hemisphere) nor stable in the third world. Yet the surge of electoral democracy in South America (particularly Peru, Bolivia, Argentina, Uruguay, and Brazil) between 1980 and 1985, gradual emergence in Mexico, the 1984 restoration of electoral democracy Egypt, its renewal in the Philippines, and its remarkable vitality in India, 28

in its in all

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TABLE 15.1

Region Africa

Asia Oceania

Western Hemisphere

DEVELOPMENT

Electoral Democracies in the Third World, 1986

Country Botswana Egypte Mauritius 3 India Turkey Fiji Kiribati Nauru Papua New Guinea Solomon Islands Tuvalu Antigua and Barbuda 3 Argentina 3 Bahamas Barbados Belize 3 Bolivia 3 Brazil3.*5 Colombia Costa Rica Dominica Dominican Republic Ecuador Jamaica Peru 3 St. Kitts and Nevis 3 St. Lucia St. Vincent and The Grenadines Trinidad and Tabago Uruguay 3 ' 11 Venezuela

Approximate 1983 Population 998,000 45,364,000 999,000 733,000,000 47,471,000 670,000 61,000 9,000 3,197,000 254,000 7,000 78,000 28,783,000 222,000 260,000 153,000 6,032,000 129,660,000 27,516,000 2,378,000 81,000 5,908,000 8,193,000 2,264,000 17,877,000 53,000 125,000 102,000 1,140,000 2,969,000 17,257,000

Sources: Raymond D. Gastil (ed.), Freedom in the World: Political and Civil Liberties, 1983-1984 (Westport 1984), for information relating to the practive of electoral democracy; The World Bank, The World Bank Atlas, 1985 (Washington 1985), for population data. Notes: aDoes not appear on Arend Lijphart's list of democracies in 1980 (Democracies [New Haven 1984], 38). ''Listed on basis of supplementary sources. attest to its w o r l d - w i d e appeal. A balanced ledger for the s a m e half decade would record the abuse of representative government by o f f i c i a l s in Nigeria, culminating in a military c o u p and collective sigh of unmistakable relief by millions of disillusioned Nigerians. Theories that emphasize alleged cultural

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barriers to democratic government in Nigeria minimize the potential for democracy in Africa. 2 9 However, precise analyses of specific abuses and remediable defects may be more to the point. 30 Reform-minded candidates did contest in the mismanaged Nigerian elections (both federal and state) of 1983; they might have saved the democratic republic if adequate safeguards against electoral fraud had been devised and enforced. It would not be unreasonable to anticipate a revival of electoral democracy in Nigeria based on that country's enduring foundations of constitutional liberty: the federal principle, respect for the rule of law, 31 judicial independence, a vigorous bar, redoubtably preserved freedom of the press, and a cultural heritage of indigenous constitutional traditions. Omitted from the list of electoral democracies in Table 15.1, Senegal merits attention because a free, if less than fairly conducted, election, based on full freedom of political association, occurred there in 1983. Moreover, Senegal is the first third-world country to have adopted a version of the innovative West German electoral system, providing for a combination of individual and party mandates. In Senegal, each voter casts three ballots—for presid e n t , f o r an i n d i v i d u a l p a r l i a m e n t a r y c a n d i d a t e in a s i n g l e - m e m b e r constituency, and for a party. The party ballots elect 50 percent of the members of the National Assembly on a proportionate basis. In this instance, and at least one other—the 1982 election in Mauritius (with variable member constituencies involving a "best loser" system to ensure minority group representation)—a real interest in the science of representative government has brightened the horizon for electoral democracy in Africa. There, and elsewhere in the third world, electoral democracy is an important, but scarcely definitive, feature of emergent, and potentially emergent, democratic polities. The Rule of Law Just as rulers are held accountable to their subjects in democratic theory, so too are they held accountable for their actions by coordinate authorities in accordance with the theory of constitutionalism. The modern theory of cons t i t u t i o n a l g o v e r n m e n t e m e r g e d in E n g l a n d d u r i n g t h e c i v i l w a r s of 1640-1660. Its central idea, the so-called separation of powers, was originated by popular democrats, known as Levellers, w h o wished to establish the rule of law as an alterative to either executive or legislative despotism. 3 2 In our time, the drama of constitutionalist innovation is being re-enacted in the n a s c e n t a n d m a t u r i n g n a t i o n s of A f r i c a , A s i a , a n d L a t i n A m e r i c a . D e v e l o p m e n t a l g r o u p s and o r g a n i z a t i o n s — w o r k e r s , f a r m e r s , and entrepreneurs in the Leveller tradition—pursue constitutionalist goals in the name of democracy. Judicial Independence. In modern democracies, courts and judges back up the institutions of electoral representation as a second line of defense against the dangers of despotic government. Their resilience in the face of political

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repression w a s demonstrated in India during the dictatorship of Indira Gandhi in 1 9 7 5 - 1 9 7 7 . In defiance of the regime, the beleaguered and partially "captured" Supreme Court still struck down a constitutional amendment, enacted by parliament, that would have destroyed an "essential feature" of the constitution. 3 3 S w e p t f r o m p o w e r by a d i s a f f e c t e d electorate in 1 9 7 7 , Gandhi regained the office of prime minister following her party's electoral triumph of 1980. Shortly thereafter, the Supreme Court once again invalidated constitutional amendments, enacted by parliament, on the ground that they undermined the " b a s i c structure" of the constitution. 3 4 By combining a practice of self-restraint in deference to the claims of executive and legislative authority with circumspect yet firm insistence upon judicial review of the constitution, the Supreme Court has made an important contribution to the sustenance of democracy in India. In Nigeria, j u d g e s have grown accustomed to protecting the rights of citizens during periods of military rule. 3 5 Recently, however, civilians have been liable to p r o s e c u t i o n b e f o r e military tribunals without the p o s s i b i l i t y of appeal. In this circumstance, members of the bar have vigorously debated the relative merits of boycott and participation. In a celebrated case, N i g e r i a ' s most prominent lawyer (Chief Rotimi Williams) challenged a decree intended to punish those who published " f a l s e accusations" against public officials. Although he did not win the case, decided by a military tribunal in 1984, he did put the decree itself on trial, thereby dramatizing the vitality of Nigeria's constitutionalist culture. The objectionable decree w a s repealed in 1985, following a palace c o u p by new military leaders who pledged themselves to respect freedom of the press, civil liberties, and human rights. In Nigeria, the rule of law lives in public opinion although the courts have been temporarily deprived of jurisdiction in constitutional cases. Judicial and constitutional cultures flourish to varying degrees in the worldwide Commonwealth of Nations as an enduring legacy of British colonialism. In C o m m o n w e a l t h A f r i c a , courts effectively defend the rights of political dissidents in T h e G a m b i a , 3 6 where electoral democracy is at risk, and in the one-party state of Zambia, where in 1985 the conviction and death sentence of an influential opponent of the country's president w a s overturned by its supreme court in repudiation of misconduct by the police. From an ideological standpoint, the most important test of judicial independence in the third world today is shaping up in Zimbabwe, where a doctrinaire MarxistLeninist political leadership seeks to create a one-party state. If the regime has its way, party competition will not survive beyond the ten-year period (1980-90) of its entrenchment in the constitution. Yet the government continues to attach importance to the principle of judicial independence and the prerogatives of the bench. 3 7 A Zimbabwean jurist w a s appointed chief justice shortly after he acquitted alleged saboteurs b e c a u s e their c o n f e s s i o n s had been extracted by torture. In a subsequent explanation of the government's attitude toward the judiciary, the Minister of Home A f f a i r s declared, " W e pay

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our judges to be independent and they are." Shortly afterward, the Supreme Court held a statutory instrument to be violative of fundamental rights and therefore unconstitutional. Zimbabwe's potential contribution to the practice of judicial independence may be questioned on the ground that Marxism-Leninism offers no theory of constitutional government or divided power as a restraint on the exercise of authority. To be sure, a governmental practice predicated on the idea of divided power would be innovative in the universe of MarxistLeninist states. Yet the fusion of constitutionally limited government with Marxism-Leninism was envisioned by Czechoslovakian communists under Alexander Dubcek in 1968, as it has been in subsequent Eurocommunist thought. Its realization in Zimbabwe would be both unprecedented and a real contribution to the political practice of communism. Pluralism within the structure of government itself is as much a part of democratic political life in the electoral democracies as is party pluralism. Might the reinforcement of governmental pluralism in Zimbabwe not also signify a democratic mutation of the (generically) Marxist-Leninist state? Ombudsmen. A Swedish invention of the early nineteenth century, the idea of the ombudsman, literally "grievance man," has been adopted by governments in many democratic and industrial countries as a means to investigate alleged abuses of administrative power and to protect the rights of citizens against such abusive action. The relevance of this idea to third-world countries has been doubted by analysts, who contend that it presupposes a stable constitutional order, a social ethos of civic responsibility, and a tolerant political culture. The ombudsman concept, they conclude, "thrives best where it is least needed . . . where public administration is fairly sensitive to public needs, and where many alterative channels of redress . . . are available."38 Yet, by 1983, institutions of the ombudsman type had been established in, or provided for by the constitutions of, at least eighteen third-world countries. Studies of their performance, synthesized by Ian Scott, reveal unanticipated adaptations of a remarkably flexible institution that invariably enhances freedom and democracy despite the absence of the presumed cultural prerequisites for its success. Scott's research unveils a "dual purpose ombudsman" serving not only to protect the rights of individuals, but also, and with greater emphasis, to remedy the causes of abusive administration.39 In thirdworld settings, he finds, the ombudsman is likely to become an instrumentality of the political executive for investigating, cautioning, and correcting administrative conduct in order to harmonize relations between the state and the people. To that end, "collective," rather than individual, rights have received paramount attention. Examples include protection against either racial discrimination in appointments to the public service (Guyana) or unjust treatment of minority ethnic groups (Fiji, Mauritius, Papua New Guinea), formal objection to the defamation of an ethnic group (Zambia), and disclosure,

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in s e v e r a l c o u n t r i e s , of n e p o t i s m or t r i b a l i s m in the p u b l i c s e r v i c e . Commissions functioning as ombudsmen enable civil servants to lodge complaints against their superiors and assist in drives against administrative corruption. These democratic achievements do not minimize the acknowledged differences between third-world ombudsmen and their precursors. Instances of conflict between a third-world ombudsman and the political executive are rare to the point of being virtually nonexistent. However, ombudsmen are quasi-judicial officers, and their duties are correlative to the judicial process; for example, in Zimbabwe, the first ombudsman, a high court judge, also chaired and guided, with constitutionalist concern, the tribunal established to protect the rights of political detainees. Furthermore, ombudsmen everywhere propagate k n o w l e d g e about the rights of citizens, thereby performing an immense service to the cause of democracy "in underdeveloped countries with large, illiterate, rural, and, in some cases, isolated populations." 4 0 In practice, as Ladipo Adamolekun observes with reference to the network of ombudsman commissions in Nigeria, the institution is hardly a "court of the d o w n t r o d d e n , " since the o v e r w h e l m i n g m a j o r i t y of public c o m p l a i n t s emanates f r o m relatively well-educated urban dwellers. 41 Yet it does command the respect and services of dedicated democrats and social reformers. Federalism. The federal principle affirms that sovereignty is itself divisible. In federal systems, the central government arises upon an independent foundation in each constituent entity of the federation. Although many governments have federal features, relatively few exemplify the principle of divided sovereignty. In the third world today, only the Republic of India operates on an effectively federal basis. All of the twenty-two Indian states normally have freely elected governments, although it is fair to say that the federal system there is compromised by the practice, common to freshly elected national governments, of dissolving legislatures of states controlled by opposition parties in the hope of early electoral change. 4 2 Highly centralized in conception, the Indian federation nonetheless provides ample scope for democratic innovation by the states. For example, six states have instituted ombudsman commissions, although similar proposals for the entire country have thus far been rejected by the federal parliament. 4 3 In a wide-ranging "inventory" of "arrangements for self-rule and autonomy" within sovereign states throughout the world, Daniel Elazar has identified several other third-world governments that appear to have strong federalist potentialities, among them Brazil, Malaysia, Mexico, Nigeria, Pakistan, South Africa, the United Arab Emirates, and Venezuela. 4 4 Of these, only Nigeria has e x p e r i e n c e d g e n u i n e l y federal government in recent years. Federalism has been the indispensable basis for Nigerian unity, especially during the 1967-70 war of secession. Arguably, the establishment of a viable federal union—thanks to the division of large political regions into smaller

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states—has been the greatest achievement of Nigeria's military rulers. This said, however, the federal system under military rule is driven by an overbearing unitary impulse. Yet federalism in Nigeria, debilitated if not dormant since the military coup of 1983, has still helped to localize and contain the threat of such antidemocratic tides as Islamic fundamentalism and the resurgence of oligarchic traditionalism. Federalist futures are democratic images. In South Africa, federalists foresee the transformation of a racial oligarchy and unitary state into a full democracy with racial equality and without fear for the security of either ethnic minorities or political dissidents. 45 Sri Lanka, Sudan, and other polities convulsed by intercultural animosities might also be restored to health by federal remedies. As Elazar has observed, the federalist idea is an alternative to the plainly hierarchical, and currently influential, doctrine that "every political system has a center and a periphery" and to its essentially antidemocratic corollaries: that the so-called center is culturally and politically superior to its periphery and that federalism is little more than an efficiency-reducing form of governmental decentralization. 4 6 On the contrary, federalism posits the ideal of unity among peoples without subordinating some to others, a dream for developmental democrats. Economic

and Social

Pluralism

In addition to competition among political parties and to the existence of countervailing agencies within a system of government, democratic pluralism implies a high degree of autonomy for diverse nonparty and extragovernmental organizations. Formal organizations themselves operate in accordance with democratic norms to the extent that leaders are held accountable for their actions to the membership. In keeping with that basic tenet of democracy, 47 analysts could readily proclaim the universality of democratic organizations: a veritable world full of democracies writ small as nonterritorial and "private" governments. Thus do Milton Esman and Norman Uphoff adopt the democratic principle of accountability to define the focal institutions of their pathbreaking analysis of "intermediaries in (third-world) rural development," namely "local organizations," defined "as organizations which act on behalf of and are accountable to their membership and are involved in development activities." 4 8 Such organizations, they show, are virtually ubiquitous in the third world, without regard to variations of regime ideology. Everywhere in the third world, internally democratic groups and organizations adapt to harsh political environments. Their impacts on political life are difficult to ascertain by statistical methods; their long-term contributions to the advancement of democracy are harder still to calculate; they bedevil attempts to classify third-world political systems. For example, is Nigeria much less "democratic" today than it was just before the 1983 coup d'état, when it was classified by Lijphart as a recently established democracy? Or, w a s India much less " d e m o c r a t i c " during the 1975-77 Emergency Rule

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regime than it was immediately before that episode, or has been since? In neither of these intensely pluralistic societies has central governmental change particularly affected the autonomy of local organizations. In both, as elsewhere in the third world, rural development associations and cooperatives resourcefully guard against attempts by government and party officials to circumscribe their a u t o n o m y and subordinate them to outside powers. 4 9 In Zimbabwe, the future of democracy appears likely to turn largely on the question of respect for the autonomy of demonstrably accountable organizations of small farmers. 5 0 Similarly, in Kenya, "peasant-initiated self-help development projects" 5 1 are rural "schools for democracy" that might be expected to foster its revival and growth nationally. Penetrating studies of the "uncaptured" peasantries of Zambia and Tanzania, from the rival intellectual standpoints of rational choice based upon a desire for material gain 5 2 and the moral "economy of affection," 5 3 suggest a strong potential for self-directed democratic development in rural Africa. In these and many other countries, free discussion and dissent, fugitive arts in a sovereign state, are widely practiced in the private and nonformal governments of economic and social organizations. 54 Organized Labor. In 1980, Freedom House surveyed the "rather dismal condition of workers' rights" in the third world. 5 5 Apart from exceptional c a s e s — M o r o c c o , T u r k e y , Sri L a n k a , and s e v e r a l c o u n t r i e s in L a t i n America—the trampled rights of labor were everywhere enfeebled. However, surveys that rely solely upon performance ratings with reference to well-chosen indices of "trade union freedom" still do not reveal the contributions of trade-union activity to movements for democracy. The limitations of a rating method for the study of labor's contribution to democratic development are similar to those of Freedom House's companion classification of countries as "free," "partly free," or "not free." 5 6 Performance ratings do not reach the substance of struggles for free trade unionism and the rights of labor. Nor do they differentiate between fragile and lasting foundations of democratic pluralism in the field of industrial relations. With notable exceptions, 5 7 the political aspects of labor movements in the third world have not been deeply researched. Numerous studies portray the subordination of co-opted and docile trade unions to masters of the state. However, established labor organizations do represent permanent interests that are often antithetical to governmental strategies of capital accumulation. Thus, in Zambia, a one-party state of 6.5 million people of whom urban dwellers make up 45 percent, trade unions have effectively guarded their autonomy in the sphere of industrial relations against encroachments by a domineering regime. In 1982, a virtually permanent, populist president, deviating f r o m the avowed nondoctrinaire " h u m a n i s t " ideals of his previous career, declared that henceforth Zambia's official ideology should be Marxian "scientific socialism." That proposal was easily recognized by trade unionists

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as yet another attempt to control the working class. Its immediate effect w a s to forge a defensive alliance between two social institutions that are second to none in popularity—organized labor and the churches. Although the rights of labor in Zambia are not rated highly by Freedom House, Zambian trade unions have preserved a significant measure of autonomy, and the regime has given up its attempt to regiment labor in the name of "scientific socialism," which it appears to have discarded. South Africa today affords dramatic evidence of effective trade-union leadership in conjunction with a popular struggle for democracy. B e t w e e n 1969 and 1985, black membership in organized trade unions increased from about 2 0 , 0 0 0 to more than 750,000. Most black unionists belong to exclusively black or nonracial organizations, whose right to engage in collective bargaining was not conceded by the government until 1979. In South Africa, vigorous trade unionism, black and white, has always been fostered by the high concentration of capital in a relatively f e w urban industrial areas and by the need for an ever-increasing number of skilled workers. For millions of black workers and their families, industrial and political actions are coequal and integral parts of the struggle for racial freedom. Black trade unions have asserted the interests of their members as workers; in the absence of legal political parties for black South Africans, unions also voice far wider black community concerns. Yet trade union autonomy vis-a-vis nationalist, revolutionary, and multiclass liberation groups is a deeply held value for both trade union leaders and the rank and file. Despite the recurrent persecution of politically active labor leaders in South Africa the reluctance of trade unions to affiliate with specifically political groups does not reflect either an "economistic" outlook or the prudential imperatives of self-preservation. On the contrary, black trade unionists regularly affirm the essentially political character of industrial relations in South Africa. Yet they also assert trade-union autonomy, in the face of harsh criticism from political militants, on strictly principled grounds, involving considerations of class struggle, ideology, and democratic organization. Leaders of the largest and best-organized black unions have repeatedly insisted upon the crucial difference between working-class organizations, on the one hand, and, on the other, multiclass organizations with "middle-class" leadership. They believe in cooperation with c o m m u n i t y - w i d e popular m o v e m e n t s short of organizational affiliation, fearing that, in the absence of a strong and selfdirected workers' movement, the popular movement and its cause could be usurped by elements that would, eventually, oppress the workers. Their arguments reveal an intense sensitivity concerning cultural (especially educational and linguistic) cleavages between working people and other social groups. They fear multiclass organizational practices that would undermine the principles of democratic participation and representation upon which the black unions have been founded. And they are wary of middle-class ideological "populism" when it is asserted at the expense of working-class realism. 5 8

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Ideological autonomy for the black labor movement is manifest in several matters of international policy, including an over-all preference f o r the International Confederation of Free Trade Unions (as opposed to the Sovietcontrolled World Federation of Trade Unions) and unequivocal support for the Solidarity union in Poland, despite the awkward migration of s o m e Solidarity refugees to South Africa. Furthermore, the most representative black trade unions favor selective, rather than full, disinvestment by foreign enterprises in South Africa, depending upon the individual firm's acceptance or rejection of apartheid policies and other conditions of racial oppression. 5 9 On this question, the trade-union position, based on a sophisticated mixture that balances freedom and job calculations, is visibly distanced from middleclass ideological populism. In this and other respects, black trade unionism anticipates pragmatic collaboration with democratic business interests in a postapartheid South Africa. In South Africa, as in Zambia, trade-union autonomy is founded upon a bedrock of trade-union democracy. 60 Furthermore, the preceding accounts of dissonance between independent trade unionists and potentially domineering political parties or groups are evocative of proletarian predispositions toward pluralist and constitutional democracy, everywhere, since the nineteenth century. 61 As shown by the electoral defeat of Gandhi's dictatorship in 1977, the Indian "poor, like other citizens, appreciated the connection between a government of laws and their welfare and material interests." 62 Theorists of proletarian democracy might reflect on a crucial moment during the German revolution of 1918: An all-German Congress of Workers' and Soldiers' Councils, democratically elected and truly representative of working-class opinion, voted overwhelmingly to reject the idea of a "proletarian" dictatorship and to establish a parliamentary democracy instead. Critics have deplored this action as suicide for the workers' movement. 6 3 Yet it has also been admired from a democratic standpoint, 64 and might even be studied as a paradigmatic example of working-class commitment to constitutional freedom. Subsidiarity. In 1921, Pope Pius XI formulated a pluralistic conception of the social order, affirming the valued existence of corporate groups and private associations, that has since been elaborated by Roman Catholic theorists as "the principle of subsidiarity." [J]ust as it is w r o n g to withdraw from the individual and commit to the c o m munity at large what private enterprise and industry can accomplish, so, too, it is an injustice, a grave evil and a disturbance of right order for a larger and higher organization to arrogate to itself functions which can be performed efficiently by smaller and l o w e r b o d i e s . 6 5

This idea, according to Alfred Stepan, demarcates the boundary between the Iberic/Latin American conception and practice of "organic statism," on

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the one hand, and Leninist socialism, on the other. 66 Indeed, the idea of subsidiarity was originally expounded in direct opposition to communist and socialist thought. Within a Eurocentric cultural context, it might well be scorned by both liberal and social democrats as a modern rationalization for social conservatism. Transposed to a broader, ecumenical canvas, however, Thomastic versions of pluralism, in the form of autonomous social institutions that do not threaten the prince, may have developmental as well as democratic virtues. If so, then doctrinaire insistence upon the antidemocratic implications of "subsidiarity" closes an entire range of questions that might otherwise be opened with paradoxical consequences. The democratic implications of this Catholic idea may be startling in relation to an expanding universe of communist, or Marxist-Leninist, polities. Just as analysts of "corporatism" in Latin America have wisely undertaken to "disaggregate" that generic concept in order to investigate the varied political relationships to which it pertains, 67 so, too, should analysts disaggregate the concept of communism in its sundry political incarnations. In Eastern Europe, democrats endeavor to consolidate and develop forms of "social independence," such as private enterprise and religious freedom, since "parliamentary democracy cannot yet be put on the a g e n d a . " 6 8 Economic, religious, and intellectual pluralism is not uncommon in thirdworld regimes of Marxist-Leninist orientation. Forthrightly affirmed by a few such regimes, for example, Nicaragua and Zimbabwe, tacitly acknowledged by many others, for example, China and Ethiopia, departures from the rule of monopolitical orthodoxy are legitimized by scholars in overtly pluralistic universities, where serious scholarship in the humanities and social sciences is conducted from diverse ideological standpoints and with respect for the basic tenets of academic freedom. Moreover, deep commitments to the scholarly and university traditions of Europe and North America pervade the academic staffs of nearly all third-world universities and public service establishments staffed by university-trained intellectuals. No society that nurtures freedom of thought at the apex of its educational system can be shielded by laws from compelling pressures for democratization. James S. Coleman has introduced "the idea of the developmental university," an institution that "in all its aspects" is singularly devoted to the attainment of national goals. 69 Such universities also symbolize the averred right of downtrodden nations to acquire and augment the fund of human knowledge that has enabled other nations and peoples to prosper, often at their expense. In the third world, the creation and preservation of respected universities is a psychological, as well as a developmental, necessity. The denizens of developmental universities, true to their scholarly vows, yet congenitally suspicious of opinions and academic orthodoxies received from their intellectual exemplars, are reverential heretics in the temple of knowledge. Developmentalists all, they tinker ceaselessly in the workshops of democracy, putting old parts together in new ways and fashioning experimental parts for innovative

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institutional connections. The political scientists among them, eclectics by disciplinary conviction, regularly rummage for bits and pieces in the junkyard of ideas between revolution and the state. SOCIAL CLASS AND THE STATE Class analytical theories of political power have come to the fore in studies of the newly industrializing countries, where state policies often promote farreaching changes in economic organization. Newly created, state-centered economic institutions provide high-level employment opportunities for at least one generation of educated men and women. In every third-world country, the expanded infrastructure for development is a veritable forcing house of class formation. Together, the state management and large private enterprise sectors give rise to a dominant social class, one that has been identified variably by analysts as a " m a n a g e r i a l , " "organizational," or " c o r p o r a t e national" bourgeoisie. 7 0 The latter term has been suggested for dominant classes in the more industrialized countries of the third world, where corporate enterprise is firmly established and clearly pre-eminent, for example, Brazil or Peru. Class, as distinct f r o m elite, analysts and theorists have emphasized the political and social cohesion of persons engaged in diverse elite occupations, among them business management and finance, management of civil-service establishments, governmental and political leadership, the learned professions, and other occupations of similar status. Why, however, it may be wondered, should the term bourgeoisie be chosen to name those dominant classes that are more statist than capitalist? Aside from its historic identity as the "capitalist class," the bourgeoisie has also been the main tradition-breaking class of modern society. Scholarly convention favors the use of that term for the dominant classes of third-world countries in which capitalist production is nurtured by the state and coexists with a substantial, often predominant, public-enterprise sector. If the name bourgeoisie can be given to the dominant classes of quasi-capitalist systems, why should it be withheld from the dominant classes of anti- or non-capitalist systems? Adorned by an appropriate modifier, such as state or socialist, the bourgeoisie could lay a reasonable claim to transideological recognition. Surely, the hauteur and behavioral tendencies of dominant classes in the socalled socialist countries resemble (imitate?) the class practices of their ideological opposites. Mao Zedong charged that the Soviet Union was ruled by a bourgeoisie; yet he was misled by his ideology to insist that the Soviet rulers were restoring capitalism. Obviously, the socialist bourgeoisie does not restore capitalism when it administers state property to its own advantage. "The question is," said Alice, "whether you can make words mean so many different things." "The question is," said Humpty Dumpty, "which is to be master—that's all."

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As Lewis Carroll suggests, words are intellectual tools. 71 Until someone proposes a more attractive name for the dominant classes of societies based upon, or dedicated to, the collective and public ownership of productive property, bourgeoisie will do for many, if not most, class analysts, although that usage will still be scorned by those who refuse to concede that a bourgeoisie can be other than a "capitalist" class. In this regard, however, it may be instructive to reflect on Lenin's classic argument that socialism, itself, is an intellectual product of the bourgeoisie. 72 Left to themselves, he observed, the working classes would not aspire to socialism. Whether or not that argument remains valid for all industrial countries today, there is no mistaking its validity for the third world, where every socialist experiment can be identified, plausibly, as class action by a socialist bourgeoisie. Although evidence of working-class ideological preferences in the third world is fragmentary and difficult to adduce in a comprehensive manner, it does appear to warrant this generalization: The overwhelming majority of wage and salary workers, and a decisive majority of those who represent them as labor-union leaders, are neither antagonistic toward socialism nor prone to promote its establishment. They do defend their immediate interests as workers, and they oppose attempts by governments or political parties to capture or restrict the autonomy of their unions. In statist economic environments, it would not be surprising for the proletariat to display a "capitalist" ideological orientation, while the bourgeoisie campaigns for "socialism." Unfortunately, no one has yet assembled aggregate data on proletarian struggles for liberty and constitutional government in the third world. However, trade-union resistance to dictatorship, or the threat of dictatorship, is evidently world-wide—from South Africa to Sudan, from Argentina to Honduras and Nicaragua, from Bangladesh to South Korea. For all their defects and weaknesses, third-world trade unions man the barricades against dictatorship in numerous countries, with ideologically diverse regimes, throughout the world. Their singular contributions to development may lie as much in the realm of political organization as in that of economic or industrial organization. Similarly, the preferences of peasants and farmers for market incentive systems and their dislike of collectivization and state-managed agriculture has been reported by researchers from China and Vietnam to Algeria and Zimbabwe. 7 ^ Everywhere, "popular classes"—workers, farmers, and small-scale entrepreneurs—oppose dictatorship and discard ideological fetters on their freedom of action. A political theory for development, with due regard for popular values, would probably reflect the disutility of dictatorship in its doctrine of the state. The state is a political conception; numerous political types—for example, democratic, liberal, and servile—have been discussed by theorists. Economic types have also been conceived by interdisciplinary theorists of the state; many, but not all, of them are Marxists who stress the capitalist-socialist dichotomization of modern state forms. If the state is conceived as a

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s y s t e m of p o w e r , an e c o n o m i c characterization, such as " c a p i t a l i s t s t a t e " is l o g i c a l , s i n c e capitalists d o e x e r c i s e p o w e r . H o w e v e r , an e x c l u s i v e l y e c o n o m ic c h a r a c t e r i z a t i o n o f s t a t e - t y p e s w o u l d s c a r c e l y a p p e a l to those w h o b e l i e v e that the f o r m o f a s o c i e t y ' s e c o n o m i c organization is but o n e a m o n g s e v e r a l b a s e s o f political p o w e r . F o r e x a m p l e , is B u l g a r i a a " s o c i a l i s t s t a t e " ? P e r h a p s so, s i n c e " s o c i a l i s t s " do e x e r c i s e s u p r e m e p o w e r there. D o e s that particular f a c t tell us v e r y m u c h a b o u t the state o f B u l g a r i a ? M o r e b r o a d l y , d o e s the f o r m of e c o n o m i c o r g a n i z a t i o n in that country, or a n y other, d e t e r m i n e the character o f its state? C l a s s i c a l l i b e r a l s are indeed p r o n e to b e l i e v e that c o m petitive c a p i t a l i s m is " a n e c e s s a r y condition f o r political f r e e d o m . " 7 4 H e n c e their p a r t i a l i t y f o r " c a p i t a l i s t , " as o p p o s e d to " s o c i a l i s t , " states. S o c i a l i s t s , h o w e v e r , cannot i g n o r e the a s s o c i a t i o n of s o c i a l i s m as it " r e a l l y e x i s t s " in E a s t e r n E u r o p e , A s i a , and C u b a w i t h dictatorship. It w o u l d b e l o g i c a l to surm i s e that d e m o c r a t i c s o c i a l i s t s , a b o v e all, w o u l d s h y a w a y f r o m e c o n o m i c c a t e g o r i z a t i o n s of the state. T h e y n e e d strictly political e x p l a n a t i o n s f o r the interment o f p o t e n t i a l l y d e m o c r a t i c s o c i a l i s m in the g r a v e y a r d s o f statism. T o w a r d the end of S t a l i n ' s era, A r t h u r K o e s t l e r and other apostates f r o m c o m m u n i s m l a m e n t e d their f o r m e r f a i t h in " t h e G o d that f a i l e d . " 7 5 W h e r e d o e s the b l a m e l i e ? A f a l s e g o d is n o G o d and s h o u l d be e x p e c t e d to f a i l . T h r e e centuries earlier, B l a i s e P a s c a l f o r m u l a t e d the tantalizing and h a p p i l y r e c o v e r e d c o n c e p t i o n o f a " h i d d e n G o d . " 7 6 If dictatorial and statist s o c i a l i s m has been e x p o s e d a s a f a l s e g o d , d e m o c r a t i c s o c i a l i s t s might try to f i n d the hidden G o d in anti- and non-statist f o r m s of s o c i a l i s m . T h e y w o u l d then b e w e l l a d v i s e d to f o r s a k e e c o n o m i s t i c theories of the state. In s t u d i e s o f the i n d u s t r i a l w o r l d , c a t e g o r i z a t i o n of the state as either capitalist or s o c i a l i s t tends to s t i g m a t i z e s o c i a l i s m w i t h guilt b y a s s o c i a t i o n w i t h dictatorship. In t h i r d - w o r l d studies, the capitalist-socialist d i c h o t o m i z a tion has a c o n s e q u e n c e that is e v e n m o r e b a n e f u l f o r s o c i a l i s t s and p h i l o s o p h ical capitalists a l i k e . If the i s s u e of liberty v e r s u s dictatorship is, i n d e e d , a p a r a m o u n t i s s u e f o r f a r m e r s , w o r k e r s , and entrepreneurs in the third w o r l d , it s h o u l d b e f u n d a m e n t a l to a n y r e a l i s t i c theory of d e v e l o p m e n t .

Economistic

theories o f the state a r e d e t r i m e n t a l to d e v e l o p m e n t b e c a u s e they s u b o r d i n a t e political and constitutional q u e s t i o n s to an a l l e g e d l y m a s t e r q u e s t i o n o f capitalism v e r s u s s o c i a l i s m . T h e d e v e l o p m e n t a l s i g n i f i c a n c e of p o l i t i c a l f r e e d o m is then hidden b y an i d e o l o g i c a l mist. W h a t is m o r e , e c o n o m i s t i c t h e o r i e s o f the state a l s o s u p p l y a r a t i o n a l e f o r the repression o f dissenting i n t e l l e c t u a l s , t r a d e u n i o n i s t s , a n d o t h e r s b y d i c t a t o r i a l r u l e r s f o r a l l e g e d c a p i t a l i s t , or s o c i a l i s t , d e v i a t i o n s f r o m the o f f i c i a l line. F e w t h e o r i e s o f the c a p i t a l i s t state s p e c i f i c a l l y i n c o r p o r a t e the i d e a o f constitutional liberty a s a b a s i c c o n d i t i o n f o r e c o n o m i c and s o c i a l p r o g r e s s . B i l l W a r r e n ' s t h e o r y o f p r o g r e s s i v e c a p i t a l i s m t o u c h e s on that i d e a f r o m a M a r x i s t p e r s p e c t i v e , but w i t h o u t d e v e l o p m e n t in relation to the third w o r l d . 7 7 N o r d o e s that i d e a a p p e a r to h a v e b e e n pursued in a t h i r d - w o r l d c o n t e x t b y a n y other l e a d i n g theorist o f the c a p i t a l i s t state. 7 8 I n s t e a d , t h e o r i s t s o f the

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third-world capitalist state have minimized the significance of democratic reform, being disposed to v i e w any and all reform, political or economic, as a device to enhance the legitimacy of the state in the minds of the masses. That v i e w p o i n t has been rebutted b y H i r s c h m a n . W h y , he asks, should it be assumed that reformers aim to legitimate the state? 79 Does it not also demean the working class to show such little regard for its contribution to struggles for democracy and reform? In brief, developmentalists need a guide to the pitfalls of economistic theorizing about class and state in the third world. It should forewarn analysts that no state is adequately described economistically as either capitalist or socialist, that the bourgeoisie does not have to be a capitalist class, that socialist ventures are not launched by working classes, and that workers and farmers are among the most reliable protagonists of constitutional liberty in opposition to statism. Class and state are standard analytical tools, but their utility for the study of third-world development has been impaired by accretions of economistic rust. "Capitalist class" and "capitalist state" are common examples of such conceptual impairment. "Capitalist class" is not a social category but, like "laboring class" or the "landed classes," a concept that is fit for the functional analysis of human relationships to one of the classical factors of economic production. It obscures the relevance of class to power drives in all spheres of social life. Hence a realistic concept of class would encompass everything that is relevant to the study of power in its social totality. "Capitalist state," like "socialist state," extends functional analysis of the concept of class to an even farther shore of abstraction from social reality, since it implies that the nature and form of political power are also determined by the mode of economic production. 80 Political structure, including the degree of constitutional liberty, is relegated by this conception of the state to a secondary rank in the order of importance inasmuch as both the legal status of citizenship and the political status of constituent are overshadowed by considerations of occupational status in the economic order of society. The travesties of social justice that typify regimes established in the name of this doctrine have produced a crisis in socialist thought, one that may prove to be insurmountable for Marxists. 8 1 The current crisis in developmental thought may be even more difficult to surmount, since it requires, in addition to politi c a l t h e o r i e s o f d e v e l o p m e n t , political

t h e o r i e s for

development.

Developmental theory faces the challenge of democracy.

T O W A R D A P O L I T I C A L T H E O R Y FOR

DEVELOPMENT

A formidable barrier to the conception of a democratic theory for development arises from the prevalent belief that mass political participation would be detrimental to social savings or capital accumulation for productive investment as opposed to mass consumption. That viewpoint has been expounded

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in an influential work by Huntington and Nelson, who contend that growing demands for political participation by the rural and urban lower classes of nonindustrial developing countries compel the political elites of such countries to choose between the "technocratic model" of political repression and the "populist model" of increasing political participation. 82 The latter course, Huntington and Nelson find, results in egalitarian and welfarist public policies that consume capital resources, impede economic growth, and jeopardize political stability. Wisely perceiving the need for political theories of development, Huntington and Nelson may yet have misperceived the content and nature of these political demands from below. Warren's observation realistically reflects the evidence adduced in his study of capitalist development in the third world: [I]t is e x c e e d i n g l y unlikely that the current preoccupation of development economists with equality reflects the value judgments of the majority of the inhabitants of the Third World currently emerging into or adapting to the exchange e c o n o m y . A n aspiration to keep up with the Joneses, or e v e n to avoid starvation, logically implies neither a desire for an egalitarian economic policy, nor support for equality for those worse off than oneself. Yet increased "participation" by the population in g o v e r n m e n t is i l l o g i c a l l y assumed to be consistent with egalitarian p o l i c i e s . 8 3

In all societies, men and women in all walks of life are motivated by personal incentives and seek assurances of personal security for themselves, their families, and friends. From that standpoint, it is only logical to assume that increasing degrees of mass political participation will enhance constitutional liberty and foster the creation of political environments that, in turn, would be conducive to economic achievements by industrious persons, particularly entrepreneurs. A political theory for development, then, would elucidate complementary relationships among democratic participation, constitutional liberty, social pluralism, and economic efficiency. Recent studies in economic history and theory dispute the widespread belief that, for the sake of economic growth, it is necessary to extract an investible surplus from farmers and workers at the expense of their private, self-regarding interests. T h u s Douglass North and Robert T h o m a s have argued that Western Europeans escaped from the dread Malthusian cycle—"a world bounded by abject poverty and recurrent famine"—as a result of "institutional innovations" in business organization, patent laws, property rights, and the mobility of labor. 84 Most, if not all, such innovations had democratizing impacts on the early modern Western world. The "key to growth," they discover, was "efficient economic organization," defined by them to mean a "private rate of return" that approximates the "social rate of return," or net benefit to society from each given economic activity. Their concept of efficient organization implies functional differentiation among economic and social institutions, not unlike the Roman Catholic normative principle of

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subsidiarity, or respect for the rights as well as the roles of civic and private associations, subject to beneficent regulation by the sovereign. Haltingly, and with serendipitous rewards for democratic thinkers, developmentalists have begun to investigate organic and mutually supportive relationships between the principal economic "estates," or occupational groups of third-world societies. Presumably, policies that would serve to strengthen those relationships would also enhance the efficiency of a society's economic organization and, therefore, its capacity for rapid and sustained development. Perceptions change: Presumed sinners become potential saints; liabilities are reappraised and entered in the column of assets; in the context of thirdworld d e v e l o p m e n t , o p p o r t u n i t i e s arise w h e r e they are least e x p e c t e d . Consider the role of trade unions in the third world. With few exceptions, developmental theorists have accepted the premise of antagonism between organized labor and those governments that have undertaken either to accumulate capital themselves or to assure its accumulation by capitalists for the sake of productive investment. 8 5 They warn: In pre-industrial societies, where the population and labor force are increasing at 2 to 3 percent a year and a large proportion of those of working age is without hope for jobs, collective bargaining and m i n i m u m w a g e s can aggravate social inequality, unemployment, and poverty. Although parading as an implementation of a human right, these labor practices can deny satisfaction of the needs of those outside the fortunate labor aristocracy w h o happen to have found a j o b . 8 6

From this standpoint, vigorous trade unionism is not recognized as an essential component of the development process in poor countries. Theorists who lack the firm democratic convictions of those cited here pursue this logic to the point of justifying curtailments of trade-union autonomy and rights in the name of capital conservation for the purpose of investment. An alternative approach to trade unionism in the third world rejects the presupposition of antagonism between the interests of organized workers and those of society at large. Quite to the contrary, Sean Gordon suggests that vigorous and effective collective bargaining actually promotes over-all economic development in two principal ways. First, trade unions have often negotiated contracts that provide for the delivery of "basic human needs," for example, health care, housing, and canteens for nutrition, in lieu of wage increases. A full "basket of basic needs" will do wonders for the productivity of labor in societies where disease, hunger, and malnutrition are rife, as will decent housing and cooperative finance or credit unions established by strong labor organizations. Second, the wage gains of unionized workers are transmitted as increments of income to the so-called informal sectors of urbanbased economies, consisting of small-scale entrepreneurs and non-unionized workers. 8 7 This so-called spillover effect 8 8 might be pondered as a reply to the proverbial specter of inflation that bedevils the efforts of third-world trade

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unions to achieve wage increases at regular intervals. Its importance will soon become incalculable as the third world's urban population grows to be far larger than its rural population during the first quarter of the twenty-first century. It may seem odd to use the term trickle down for transfers of wealth from organized labor to other working people. Not only class identities, as previously noted with reference to the bourgeoisie concept, but the economic process in its entirety appears to be inside-out as seen "through the looking glass" of a Western mirror into the third world. Even as they modernize, third-world societies retain their traditional communitarian characteristics that mitigate and contain the socially harmful consequences of functional differentiation. For example, the p h e n o m e n o n of remittances from migrant urban workers to their ancestral homes is virtually universal in the third world, where it is an important source of capital for rural development. 8 9 The trickle down from organized workers and their families to far larger numbers of people in their immediate proximity—the urban informal sectors—flows in two principal channels. One of them involves the transference of formal sector savings to the informal sector as recent wage earners become small entrepreneurs in their urban and suburban communities. Everywhere in the third world, the informal sector of the economy, including manufacture, transport, construction, and trade, grows by leaps and bounds. 9 0 A bulwark against the threat of unemployment, its growth is largely dependent upon increasing expenditures by formal-sector workers—the second main channel for the trickle down. Developmental economists have found that the "income elasticity of demand for small industry products is high." 91 Wage raises generate demand for the wares of small enterprise. Hence the disposition of informal-sector artisans, shopkeepers, and tradespeople to support the demands of organized labor and extend financial assistance to workers during strikes. 92 In turn, the informal sector is remarkably adept at product innovation and far more effective in diffusing skills to apprentices and business managers than the training schools and firms of the formal sector. 93 Despite the widespread disregard for, and neglect of, informal-sector enterprises by the officials of third-world governments, 94 most of whom favor centralized economic decision making, a symbiotic relationship between formal-sector demand and informal-sector supply may be the fundamental fact of economic life in poor countries. 95 It is also a democratic fact—an expression of the people's will in economic organization. It writes an end to the anti-unionist notion of labor aristocracy that is commonly (but not exclusively) invoked by statists of socialist persuasion to justify severe restrictions on the autonomy of organized labor. Above all, it indicates that free and vigorous trade unionism is conducive to the growth of small enterprise—to job creation and product innovation in the informal sector. From socialist China to capitalist Nigeria, the economic efficiency of third-world countries has been impaired by excessive degrees of statist

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planning and decision making. These societies, however, are not, like clay, waiting to be shaped (for better or worse) by political masters and their intellectual mentors, many of whom justify statism with the dubious claim that weak societies need strong states. Everywhere in the third world, popular and productive economic groups, notably organized workers, informal-sector entrepreneurs, artisans, and small farmers—each collectivity a truly developmental estate of the realm—cooperate spontaneously in furtherance of their mutual interests. There is a far higher degree of "organic solidarity" 96 in most third-world societies, and a higher potential for its rapid realization in others, than developmental theorists or sociologists are wont to recognize. The Norm of

Accountability

Pluraiism, as a political idea, connotes the distribution of power a m o n g groups that enjoy variable degrees of autonomy in their relationships with one another and, more to the crucial point, with public authorities. In modern societies, group autonomy is secured by patterns of accountability that constrain the actions of power-holders and oblige them to respect the rights and wishes of their constituents. As we have seen, the norm of accountability underlies developmental pluralism and rising agricultural productivity in rural areas throughout the world. It is also the essential basis for collective bargaining by free trade unions, including negotiation of industrial agreements with transnational business organizations. Insofar as rural development involves progress toward national self-sufficiency in foodstuffs, and insofar as collective bargaining increases the flow of wealth from transnational enterprises to small businesses within an economy's informal sector, the norm of accountability promotes autocentric economic development. It does so effectively and without recourse to regressive and ultimately unfeasible attempts to withdraw from transnational economic relationships. Political theories for development would not only clarify known relationships of accountability but also advance the quest for new forms of accountability that could improve the efficiency of a society's economic organization. K n o w n relationships of accountability are manifest in the several fragments or elements of democracy that have been identified previously under the rubrics of electoral democracy, the rule of law, and socioeconomic pluralism. The accountability of rulers to subjects, of trade-union officials to the rank and file, of farmer association and cooperative officials to those who cultivate the land—all of these being primary forms of accountability—are strengthened by constitutionalist devices that divide power, guard against its arbitrary exercise, and render the holders of power accountable to one another for the lawful performance of their duties. When, in 1984, the Supreme Court of Zimbabwe held unconstitutional a statutory instrument that conferred immunity from prosecution upon members of the state security forces for misconduct in the course of duty, it thereby enhanced the personal security of ordinary citizens, including farmers in

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dissident areas of the country, w h o were being harassed by soldiers and the police. 9 7 T h u s did a fragment of democracy, namely judicial independence, become economically developmental. W h e n corrupt officials in Guyana or Tanzania are held accountable to citizens by means of an institution—the o m b u d s m a n — w h i c h is neither electoral nor judicial in nature, a fragment of democracy is once again of direct relevance to the quality of material life. When trade unions take the lead in transforming a racial oligarchy by democratizing industrial relations, as in S o u t h A f r i c a , yet another f r a g m e n t of democracy foretells a future of life more abundant in freedom. The norm of accountability appears to be the most widely practiced of democratic principles; it is by far more prevalent in the world than f r e e d o m of association to compete for governmental office, or popular participation in authoritative decision m a k i n g , or the right to dissent f r o m official policies without fear of retaliation. T h e s e principles, which underlie constitutional forms of democracy, appeal to broad sections of the population in all countries. But they are rarely established in practice all at once. Democracy comes to every country in fragments or parts; each fragment becomes an incentive, for the addition of another. There are no reliable blueprints of developmental democracy, n o models for third-world development in the late twentieth century, democratic or otherwise. However, the fragments of democracy appear to produce synergistic social processes; they activate "organic solidarities" in the order of society that have developmental effects. Democracy, itself, is a developing conception and an increasingly complex form of political organization. From that perspective, every c o u n t r y ' s d e m o c r a c y is, at best, a composite f r a g m e n t . E v e r y w h e r e , d e m o c r a c y is under construction. But the need for political invention and improved design is urgent in the third world, where the alternatives to democratic development could be famine, war, pestilence, and death on a fearful scale.

NOTES The author is grateful to Sean I. Gordon for his valuable research assistance on business and labor, and to Gerald J. Bender, Courtney Brown, C. R. D. Halisi, Cobie A. Harris, and Martin J. Sklar for sharing their thoughts. 1. Morris David Morris, Measuring the Condition of the World's Poor (New York 1979). 2. A. James Gregor, Italian Fascism and Developmental Dictatorship (Princeton 1979). 3. Guillermo A. O'Donnell, Modernization and Bureaucratic-Authoritarianism (Berkeley 1973). 4. Robert H. Jackson and Carl G. Rosberg, Personal Rule in Black Africa (Berkeley 1982). 5. Samuel P. Huntington, "Will More Countries Become Democratic?" Political Science Quarterly, 99, 2 (Summer 1984), 218. 6. Elie Kedourie, The Crossman Confessions and Other Essays in Politics, History, and Religion (London 1984), 119-136.

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7. International Labour Organization, World Labour Report I (Geneva 1984), 1-32. 8. Lester R. Brown et al., State of the World, 1985 (New York 1985), 4. 9. Bernard Brodie, War and Politics (New York 1973), 452. 10. Hollis Chenery, Structural Change and Development Policy (New York 1979), ch. 7; see Michael F. Lofchie and Stephen K. Commins, "Food Deficits and Agricultural Policies in Tropical Africa," The Journal of Modern African Studies, 20, 1 (March 1982), 1 - 2 5 . 11. Albert O. Hirschman, The Strategy of Economic Development (New Haven 1958); see Alec Nove, The Economics of Feasible Socialism (London 1983), 192. 12. International Labour Organization, International Labour Office, Employment, Growth, and Basic Needs: A One-World Problem (New York 1977); see Paul Streeten et al., First Things First: Meeting Basic Human Needs in the Developing Countries (New York 1981); and Frances Stewart, Basic Needs in Developing Countries (Baltimore 1985). 13. Leonard B i n d e r et al., Crises and Sequences in Political Development ( P r i n c e t o n 1 9 7 1 ) ; S a m u e l P. H u n t i n g t o n and Jorge I. D o m i n g u e z , " P o l i t i c a l Development," in Fred I. Greenstein and Nelson W. Polsby (eds.), Macropolitical Theory, Vol. Ill of Handbook of Political Science (Reading 1975), ch. 1. 14. For example, A. R. Desai, "Need for Revaluation of the Concept," in Cyril E. Black (ed.), Comparative Modernization (New York 1976), 89-103; Alejandro Portes, "On the Sociology of National Development: Theories and Issues," American Journal of Sociology, 82, 1 (July 1976), 55-85. 15. Claude Ake, Social Science as Imperialism (Ibadan 1979), ii-vi. 16. E g i t e S. O y o v b a i r e , " T h e T y r a n n y of B o r r o w e d P a r a d i g m s and t h e Responsibility of Political Science: The Nigerian Experience," in Yolamu Barongo (ed.), Political Science in Africa: A Critical Review (London 1983), ch. 17. 17. George E. Gordon Catlin, Systematic Politics (Toronto 1962), 156-60. 18. Robert A. Dahl, Polyarchy: Participation and Opposition (New Haven 1971); Charles E. Lindblom, Politics and Markets (New York 1977). 19. Dahl, Polyarchy, 82, 103. 20. Gabriel A. Almond and G. Bingham Powell, Jr., Comparative Politics, 2d ed. (Boston 1978), ch. 13; Samuel P. Huntington and Joan M. Nelson, No Easy Choice (Cambridge 1976). 21. A l m o n d and P o w e l l , Comparative Politics, 3 6 9 - 3 7 0 ; s e e A l b e r t O. Hirschman, Journeys toward Progress (New York 1963). 22. Seymour Martin Lipset, Political Man (Garden City 1960); see J. Roland Pennock, Democratic Political Theory (Princeton 1979), ch. 6. 23. Robert A. Dahl, A Preface to Democratic Theory (Chicago 1956); Pennock, Democratic Political Theory. 24. Dahl, Polyarchy; Arend Lijphart, Democracies (New Haven 1984). 25. Lijphart, Democracies, 37. 26. Raymond D. Gastil (ed.), Freedom in the World: Political Rights and Civil Liberties, 1980 (New York 1980). 27. Lijphart, Democracies, 38. 28. Myron Weiner, India at the Polls: The Parliamentary Elections of 1977 ( W a s h i n g t o n , D . C . 1 9 7 8 ) ; idem, India at the Polls, 1980: A Study of the Parliamentary Elections (Washington, D.C. 1980). 29. Richard A. Joseph, "Class, State, and Prebendal Politics in Nigeria," The Journal of Commonwealth and Comparative Politics, 21, 3 (November 1983), 21-38. 30. Larry Diamond, "Nigeria in Search of Democracy," Foreign Affairs 62, 4 (Spring 1984), 905-927.

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31. Folarin Shyllon and Olusegun Obasanjo et al., The Demise of the Rule of Law in Nigeria under the Military: Two Points of View (Ibadan 1980). 32. Francis D. Wormuth, The Origins of Modern Constitutionalism (New York 1949). 33. Lloyd Rudolph and Susanne Hoeber Rudolph, "Judicial Review versus Parliamentary Sovereignty: The Struggle over Stateness in India," The Journal of Commonwealth and Comparative Politics, 19, 3 (November 1981), 231-256. 34. Ibid., 244. 35. Okay Achike, Groundwork of Military Law and Military Rule in Nigeria (Enugu 1978), 180-185. 36. Raymond D. Gastil (ed.), Freedom in the World: Political Rights and Civil Liberties, 1983-1984 (Westport 1984), 364. 37. See Chapter 14 in this book. 38. Gerald E. Caiden (ed.), Country Surveys, Vol. Ill of International Handbook of the Ombudsman (Westport 1983), xvi. 39. Ian Scott, " O m b u d s m e n in Underdeveloped Countries," in Caiden (ed.), Country Surveys, 309. 40. Ibid., 314. 41. L a d i p o O. A d a m o l e k u n , " N i g e r i a , " in C a i d e n (ed.), Country Surveys, 147-158. 42. Gastil, Freedom ... 1983-1984, 374. 43. S. N. Jain, "India," in Caiden (ed.), Country Surveys, 317-320. 44. Daniel J. Elazar (ed.), Federalism and Political Integration (Ramat Gan 1979), 215-231. 45. Leopold Marquard, A Federation of Southern Africa (London 1971); F. van zyl Slabbert and David Welsh, South Africa's Options (New York 1979); Arend Lijphart, "Federal, Confederal, and Consociational Options for the South African Plural S o c i e t y , " in R o b e r t I. R o t b e r g and J o h n B a r r a t t ( e d s . ) , Conflict and Compromise in South Africa (Lexington 1980), 70-71. 46. Elazar, Federalism, 1. 47. See John Plamenatz, Democracy and Illusion (London 1973), 38-39. 48. Milton J. Esman and Norman T. Uphoff, Local Organizations: Intermediaries in Rural Development (Ithaca 1984), 18. 49. Ibid., 187-193. 50. M i c h a e l B r a t t o n , " F a r m e r O r g a n i z a t i o n s in t h e C o m m u n a l A r e a s of Z i m b a b w e : P r e l i m i n a r y F i n d i n g s , " W o r k i n g Paper 5 / 8 4 , D e p a r t m e n t of Land Management, University of Zimbabwe, April 1984. 51. J o e l D. B a r k a n , " D e v e l o p m e n t t h r o u g h S e l f - H e l p : T h e F o r g o t t e n Alternative," Rural Africana (n.s.), 19-20 (Spring-Fall 1984), 115-129. 52. Robert H. Bates, Rural Responses to Industrialization: A Study of Village Zambia (New Haven 1976), 2. 53. Goran Hyden, Beyond Ujamaa in Tanzania: Underdevelopment and an Uncaptured Peasantry (Berkeley 1980), 18. 54. N a o m i Chazan, "The New Politics of Participation in Tropical A f r i c a , " Comparative Politics, 14, 2 (January 1982), 169-189. 55. Gastil Freedom... 1980, 112. 56. Gastil, Freedom ... 1983-1984. 57. Robert H. Bates, Unions, Parties, and Political Development: A Study of Mineworkers in Zambia (New Haven 1971); Robin Cohen, Labour and Politics in Nigeria, 1945-1971 (London 1974); Richard Sandbrook, Proletarians and African Capitalism: The Kenyan Case, 1960-1972 (Cambridge 1975); Kenneth P. Erickson, The Brazilian Corporative State and Working-Class Politics (Berkeley 1977); Richard

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Jeffries, Class, Power, and Ideology in Ghana: The Railwaymen of Sekondi (Cambridge 1978); H. A. Turner et ai., The Last Colony: But Whose? (Cambridge 1980); John Humphrey, Capitalist Control and Workers' Struggle in the Brazilian Auto Industry (Princeton 1982). 58. Denis MacShane, Martin Plaut, and David Ward, Power: Black Workers, Their Unions, and the Struggle for Freedom in South Africa (Nottingham 1984), 142-166. 59. Ibid., 189. 60. Bates, Unions; Phil Bonner, "Independent Trade Unions since Wiehan," South African Labour Bulletin, 8, 4 (February 1983), 16-36. 61. Arthur Rosenberg, Democracy and Socialism (New York 1939). 62. Rudolph and Rudolph, "Judicial Review," 236. 63. Barrington Moore, Jr., Injustice: The Social Bases of Obedience and Revolt (White Plains 1979), 301-302. 64. Arnold Brecht, The Political Education of Arnold Brecht (Princeton 1970), 131. 65. Pius XI, "Quadragesimo Anno," in Five Great Encyclicals (New York 1939), 147. 66. Alfred Stepan, The State and Society: Peru in Comparative Perspective (Princeton 1978), 36. 67. Ruth Berins Collier and David Collier, "Inducements versus Constraints: Disaggregating C o r p o r a t i s m , ' " The American Political Science Review, 73, 4 (December 1979), 967-986. 68. Andrew Arato, "Some Perspectives of Democratization in East Central Europe," Journal of International Affairs, 38, 2 (Winter 1985), 321-335. 69. James S. Coleman, "The Idea of the Developmental University," in Atle Hetland (ed.), Universities and National Development (Stockholm 1984), ch. 6. 70. Richard L. Sklar, Corporate Power in an African State (Berkeley 1975); idem, Chapter 10 in this book; Irving Leonard Markovitz, Power and Class in Africa (Englewood Cliffs 1977); David G. Becker, The New Bourgeoisie and the Limits of Dependency (Princeton 1983). 71. Lewis Carroll, The Annotated Alice, with notes by Martin Gardner (Cleveland and New York 1960), 269. 72. V. I. Lenin, What Is To Be Done? (1902; New York 1969), 33. 73. Nicholas R. Lardy, Agriculture in China's Modern Economic Development (Cambridge 1983); Dennis Duncanson, "Vietnam: A New Turning Point," The World Today, 40, 5 (May 1984), 1 9 8 - 2 0 5 ; Armelle Braun, "Rethinking Agricultural Development: Algeria's Adjustment Process," Ceres, 16, 3 (May-June 1983), 39-45; Bratton, "Farmer Organizations." 74. Milton Friedman, Capitalism and Freedom (Chicago 1962), 4. 75. Arthur Koestler et al., The God That Failed (New York 1950). 76. L u c i e n G o l d m a n , The Hidden God: A Study of Tragic Vision in the "Pensées" of Pascal and the Tragedies of Racine, Phillip Thody, trans. (London 1964). 77. Bill Warren, Imperialism: Pioneer of Capitalism (London 1980). 78. Martin Carnoy, The State and Political Theory (Princeton 1984), ch. 7. 79. Albert O. Hirschman, "The Turn to Authoritarianism in Latin America and the Search for Its E c o n o m i c Determinants," in David Collier (ed.), The New Authoritarianism in Latin America (Princeton 1979), 88. 80. Nicos Poulantzas, Political Power and Social Classes, Timothy O'Hagan, trans. (London 1973), 113 et passim. 81. Cf. the ideas of Norberto Bobbio, an Italian Marxist of liberal democratic

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persuasion, as reported from a nonliberal, Marxist vantage point by Carnoy, State and Political Theory, ch. 6. 82. Huntington and Nelson, No Easy Choice. 83. Warren, Imperialism, 210-211. 84. Douglass C. North and Robert Paul Thomas, The Rise of the Western World (Cambridge 1973), ch. 1; also idem, "An Economic Theory of the Growth of the Western World," The Economic History Review (2d ser.), 2 3 , 1 (April 1970), 1 - 1 7 . 85. See, e.g., W a l t e r L. G a l e n s o n (ed.), Labor in Developing Economies (Berkeley 1962). 86. Streeten et al., First Things First, 191. 87. Sean I. Gordon, "The Impact of Trade Unionism on Small Business and Economic Growth in the Third World," Department of Political Science, University of California (Los Angeles, 1984), typescript; Jean Mayer, "Workers' Weil-Being and Productivity: The Role of Bargaining," International Labour Review, 122, 3 (MayJune 1983), 3 4 3 - 3 5 2 ; P. J. Richards, "Housing and Employment," International Labour Review, 118, 1 (January-February 1979), 13-26; Ananaba Wogu, The TradeUnion Movement in Africa (London 1979). 88. Gene Tidrick, "Wage Spillover and Unemployment in a Wage-gap Economy: The Jamaican Case," Economic Development and Cultural Change, 232 (January 1975), 306-324. 89. J o h n C o n n e l l , B i p l a b D a s g u p t a , Roy Laishley, and M i c h a e l L i p t o n , "Remittances," in John Connell et al., Migration from Rural Areas: Evidence from Village Studies (Delhi 1976), 90-120. 90. Keith Hart, " I n f o r m a l Income Opportunities and Urban Employment in Ghana," The Journal of Modern African Studies, 11, 1 (March 1973), 61-89; S. V. Sethuraman, "The Urban Informal Sector in Africa," International Labour Review, 116, 3 (November-December 1977), 3 4 3 - 3 5 2 ; Alejandro Portes and John Walton, Labor, Class, and the International System (New York 1981), ch. 3; Alan Gilbert and Josef Gugler, Cities, Poverty, and Development: Urbanization in the Third World (Oxford 1982), 7 2 - 8 0 ; International Labor Organization, World Labour Report, 25-28. 91. Enyinna Chuta and Carl Liedholm, "Employment Growth and Change in Sierra Leone Small-Scale Industry, 1974-1980," International Labour Review, 121, 1 (January-February 1982), 101-113. 92. A d r i a n P e a c e , " T h e L a g o s Proletariat: Labour A r i s t o c r a t s or Populist Militants?" in Harry Goulboume (ed.), Politics and State in the Third World (London 1979), ch. 7. 93. Georges Nihan, Erik Demol, and Comlaui Jondon, "The Modern Informal Sector in Lomé," International Labour Review, 118, 5 (September-October 1979), 631-644; Victor F. S. Sit, "Strategies for the Promotion of Small-Scale Enterprise in the Developing ESCAP Region," Economic Bulletin for Asia and the Pacific, 33 (June 1982), 73-82. 94. John Wong, ASEAN Economies in Perspective: A Comparative Study of Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines, Singapore, and Thailand (London 1979). 95. Gordon, "Impact of Trade Unionism." 96. Emile Dürkheim, On the Division of Labor in Society, George Simpson, trans. (New York 1933). 97. See Chapter 14 of this book.

16 Beyond Capitalism and Socialism in Africa Richard L. Sklar

Ideological conflict between capitalism and socialism is more than 150 years old in the industrial countries of Europe and North America. Its gradual extension to other parts of the world during the twentieth century has entailed a basic alteration of the terms of debate. Within the leading industrial countries, partisans have debated both the economic merits of privately-owned productive capital, and the justice of profit-taking as a right of such ownership. In socialist thought, "social justice" has meant that the whole product of labor belongs to those who actually produce it; hence its value should be realized by the producers themselves, either individually, or collectively through public institutions. On that basis, socialists have promised to construct an efficient, humane, and just social order. With equal conviction, proponents of capitalism hold that no alternative economic system produces as large a volume of goods, jobs, and other material benefits for as high a percentage of the population; that social inequality is inevitable, regardless of the property system in effect or the organization of economic production; and that justice, in any case, is always individual, never "social." With the extension of this debate to a far wider world, consisting mainly of societies that are late-comers to industrialization, the question of a "just" distribution of wealth has been overshadowed by the urgent need for its creation in countries that are relatively poor. To be sure, an extreme maldistribution of national wealth is always an economic liability, as well as a moral blight; for those w h o live in abject poverty contribute minimally to their country's capacity to produce wealth for all. Still, the issue of extremely unequal economic development on a world scale is far more salient in ideological discourse today than any question of redistribution within individual nation-states, regardless of philosophical debates that rage around the concept of social justice. In Africa, the poorest continental region of the world, capitalism has been associated with the humbling experience of alien domination. In the European settler states of Eastern, Central, and Southern A f r i c a , b l a c k Africans were driven from their lands and compelled by despotic forms of Originally published in Journal of Modern African Studies 2 6 , 1 (1988), 1-21. Reprinted by permission of the author and Cambridge University Press.

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rule to supply cheap labor for a white capitalist master-class. Elsewhere, as in the "colonial estates" of Western Africa, "indirect" forms of rule were relied upon to provide cheap labor for the colonial business system. 1 In the struggle against colonial rule, ambivalence toward capitalism has been the hallmark of every nationalist movement in Africa, including both black and white nationalism in South Africa. On the one hand, egalitarian ideologies were virtually irresistible because they justified the claims of subject nations and races. On the other hand, national and racial freedom often appeared to involve the conquest of e c o n o m i c p o w e r by capitalist m e a n s . T h e n a m e s of N n a m d i Azikiwe, Jomo Kenyatta, and D. F. Malan evoke the careers of radical nationalists who became proponents of capitalism when they perceived that socialistic policies were incompatible with the drive for national economic strength in their respective countries. Three decades of African independence have all but disqualified textbook socialism as an economic strategy for Africa. The failures of collectivism and economic statism in Congo-Brazzaville, Guinea, Tanzania, and elsewhere have been noted and absorbed by policy-makers in avowedly socialist regimes f r o m Algeria to Zimbabwe. 2 Following the example of Deng Xiaoping, socialist leaders and thinkers in many third-world countries now acknowledge the importance of a free-market system, private investment, and entrepreneurship during the early stages of economic development. The economic success stories of South Korea, Brazil, Cote d ' l v o i r e and, potentially, Kenya, 3 are associated with the repudiation of socialism. In a bygone era, communist regimes were able to accelerate the pace of industrialization by investing large amounts of capital extracted ruthlessly from the intensified labor of rural producers—the "internal colony." That form of exploitation has been rendered obsolete for purposes of economic development by the effects of exponential population growth in the Third World, and the ever rising costs of essential imports. It is no longer possible to squeeze nearly enough "surplus" production out of agriculture to feed the urban population and defray the costs of imported fuel, chemicals, and machinery, not to mention the service charges for external debts. Furthermore, agricultural collectivization as a strategy for economic development in Africa can be expected to founder on the rocks of rural resistance. 4 African socialists today have no useful socialist models of high economic achievement for third-world countries in the late twentieth century. Yet socialism in Africa persists with vigor as a political movement and philosophy of social protest. Nearly 40 per cent of all African states are governed by leaders of political parties that are at least formally dedicated to the establishment of socialism. 5 However, the issue of capitalism versus socialism is no more relevant to the pattern of international relations than it is to the problem of economic development. For example, in the turbulent Horn of Africa, Marxist-Leninist Ethiopia's only reliable ally is capitalist Kenya, while its sworn enemies include secessionists in Eritrea and irredentists in

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Somalia led by Marxist-Leninists. Similarly, in West A f r i c a , the MarxistLeninist rulers of Benin are much closer to the capitalist rulers of Togo than to the " r e v o l u t i o n a r y " leaders of Burkina Faso. In two cases, Angola and Ethiopia, the persistence of doctrinaire Marxism-Leninism as an official ideology can be partly explained as a consequence of each regime's dependence for its survival on military assistance f r o m the Soviet Union. In Angola and six other avowedly Marxist-Leninist r e g i m e s — B e n i n , Congo, Madagascar, Mozambique, Somalia, and Z i m b a b w e — t h e official ideology is little more than a cloak of legitimation for the ruling party. Dissidents in those countries are not f r e e to question the s y s t e m of rule, but they are f r e e to e s p o u s e unorthodox and pragmatic economic strategies. Outside of Ethiopia, African intellectuals in the self-styled Marxist-Leninist states, like their counterparts in China and Hungary, are even expected to engage in debates on the relative merits of private versus public-sector strategies for development. 6 In African social thought, capitalism and socialism coexist as binary concepts implanted during the era of colonial rule and anti-colonial struggle. Each can also be reconciled with a partial selection of precolonial economic practices and systems of belief, but neither copes effectively with A f r i c a ' s postcolonial poverty and relative economic decline. The binary belief system has not been conducive to innovative advances in social theory and organization. Each part of the binary system corresponds to a political tendency or movement. Political and social " m o v e m e n t s " are metaphorical expressions that signify purposeful combinations of thought and action. The terms "capitalist" and " s o c i a l i s t " i d e n t i f y the e l e m e n t s of an i d e o l o g i c a l c o n f l i c t in Africa, and other regions of delayed development. Is it necessary for Africans and o t h e r l a t e - s t a r t e r s in the m a r c h t o w a r d i n d u s t r i a l i z a t i o n to c h o o s e between capitalism and socialism? Should theorists of development favor one movement or the other in that great competition? THE SOCIALIST MOVEMENT Social m o v e m e n t s are abstract objects of thought rather than concrete social realities. Scholars infer their presence f r o m selected combinations of ideas and actions, and they do not otherwise exist as separate or distinct social realities. For example, in colonial Africa, the emergence of a socialist m o v e m e n t has been inferred f r o m the thought and action of nationalists. In turn, national independence m o v e m e n t s have often been described with reference to events in everyday life. Insofar as political thought and action have been avowedly socialistic, scholars have been able to classify and periodize elements of the socialist movement in specific countries, and for Africa as a whole. At a fairly high level of generalization, the subject is divisible into three major thematic categories which are roughly congruent with successive periods of time. For the purpose of this survey, they shall be identified as ethical, revolutionary, and democratic socialism.

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In o p p o s i t i o n to E u r o p e a n i m p e r i a l i s m , A f r i c a n nationalists o f t e n appealed to the authority of their cultural heritage for moral support. African social theorists uniformly affirm that African intellectual traditions elevate the ideals of cooperation and service to the community far above the value of competition motivated by a desire for individual gain. 7 Socialism has been widely supported by A f r i c a n intellectuals on the ground that its adoption would signify the revival of a valued cultural tradition. Thus did Leopold Sedar Senghor, renowned poet, philosopher, and statesman of francophone Africa, expound an African mode of socialism, based on the communal traditions and spiritual heritage of the African people. His intellectual counterpart in anglophone Africa, Julius Nyerere, has argued that Africa's socialist future should and will restore the humane values of an idealized communitarian past, in which the social order vouchsafed dignity to all and guaranteed the satisfaction of basic human needs. 8 However, the political careers of Senghor and Nyerere also show that ethical socialism is not proof against political paternalism and the denial of democratic rights. In Senegal, Senghor presided over a relatively liberal oligarchy that permitted dissent within narrowly defined limits. In Tanzania, Nyerere's one-party state has been faulted for its frequent resort to preventive detention, regimentation of trade unions, intolerance of dissent, and other coercive public policies. 9 Revolutionary socialism in the continent connotes the application of Marxism—mainly its sociological theory—to African social problems. Unlike ethical socialists, who believe that it would be possible to build modern socialist societies on traditionalist moral foundations, revolutionaries contend that class struggles will be unavoidable. As a rule, they set store by Leninist tenets, including the notion of a vanguard party (presumed to represent the real interests of working people), and a preoccupation with the alleged menace of capitalist imperialism. A transition from ethical to revolutionary socialism is evident in the thought of Kwame Nkrumah, whose last published essays include polemics against "two myths," namely "African socialism" as a distinct social form, and the notion of a "third world" that would not have to choose between the rival worlds of capitalism and socialism. 1 0 Nkrumah's contribution to revolutionary socialism in Africa—a by-product of national and personal tragedy—should be coupled with that of Amilcar Cabral, whose revolutionary realism is justly acclaimed. 1 1 His famous challenge to the post-colonial petite-bourgeoisie-in-power—would they be willing to commit "suicide as a class" in order to be "reborn" as a class of revolut i o n a r y w o r k e r s ? 1 2 — s t r o n g l y s u g g e s t s the i m p o s s i b i l i t y of s o c i a l i s t revolution in countries which lack sturdy industrial foundations. Cabral's deeply pessimistic analysis was confirmed by his own assassination in 1973 (the result of a conspiracy within his party), and by the opportunism of subsequent leaders in Guinea-Bissau. Since his death, revolutionary socialism in Africa has reappeared in the anti-apartheid doctrine of racial capitalism. In South African history, capitalism and racism are inextricably related.

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Racial capitalism is a revolutionary idea that affirms the essential identity of class struggle and the struggle for racial liberation. Its primary political significance in South Africa lies in the reconciliation, that it both foretells and fosters, of revolutionary Marxism with the racial nationalist philosophy of black consciousness. In 1978, the Azanian People's Organization (Azapo) was created to pursue the goals of several black consciousness organizations which had been banned the year before. Azapo's 1983 manifesto begins thus: Our struggle for national liberation is directed against the historically evolved system of racism and capitalism which holds the people of Azania in bondage for the benefit of the small minority of the population, i.e., the capitalists and their allies, the white workers and the reactionary sections of the middle class. 1 3

The term "racial capitalism" has also been used by various Marxists who allege that black consciousness thought is a form of racial chauvinism. Such persons gravitate toward the broadly-based and multi- or non-racial, African National Congress (ANC). However, most political thinkers associated with the A N C are wary of the racial-capitalism concept because it is widely understood to imply the goal of a specifically socialist revolution. Although the ANC is closely allied with the South African Communist Party, it is also a non-doctrinaire liberation movement, and takes care to avoid ideological tags, such as racial capitalism, that would compromise its multi-class posture by too much of a tilt to the side of class struggle. In response to leftist criticism, the A N C ' s director of public information has declared: "The A N C is not a socialist party. It has never pretended to be one, it has never said it was, and it is not trying to be. It will not become one by decree or for the purpose of pleasing its 'left' critics." 1 4 In fact, there is broad agreement among astute analysts of South African politics that majority rule with A N C leadership would not necessarily entail a socialist revolution. 15 Democratic socialism unites the ideal of social justice with that of government by the people. The latter ideal is seriously compromised when either traditionalists or vanguard elitists take power. Nyerere's ujamaa socialist orthodoxy can stultify the non-conformist mind just as surely as Leninist orthodoxy. Democratic socialists maintain that popular government is inseparable from the protection of individual political rights. With liberals, they guard against the evils that accompany statist forms of public ownership and control, while they seek non-statist alternatives through community organization and voluntary cooperation. Where in Africa has a genuine movement for democratic socialism taken shape as an alternative to both capitalism and dictatorship? Senegal merits consideration, given the democratic practice of its avowedly socialist ruling party. However, Senegal today is securely capitalist; socialist objectives are merely incidental to public policies in that country. Meanwhile, potentially

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powerful movements for democratic socialism are discernible in the complex societies of Nigeria and South Africa. In 1992, the 32nd year-to-be of its history as a sovereign state, Nigeria will be restored to civilian rule for the second successive time. Few doubt the intention of Nigeria's caretaker-military Government to redeem its pledge of withdrawal from political office. Indeed, this process has already begun with (1) the report of an appointed study c o m m i s s i o n (Political B u r e a u ) to the Armed Forces Ruling Council, and (2) the subsequent announcement by the President, Major-General Ibrahim B a b a n g i d a , of a phased transition, beginning with local government elections in 1987, and culminating in federal legislative and presidential elections in 1992. The Political B u r e a u ' s report, 14 months in preparation, w a s intended to initiate a public debate on the future of political life in Nigeria. Its numerous recommendations range from the choice of social goals and values to the construction of political institutions, reform of the economy, and reorganization of the territorial system. 1 6 A remarkable feature of the report is its unequivocal endorsement of socialism for selection as the official "national philosophy." P r e f e r e n c e for a d e m o c r a t i c f o r m of s o c i a l i s m is m a n i f e s t in the espousal of a comprehensive bill of political rights, its fidelity to the federal form of constitutional government, and its rejection of any type of civilianmilitary "dyarchy," or shared rule. However, the democratic integrity of this socialist blueprint is marred by its recommendation of a mandatory two-party system, and the further stipulation that each of the recognized political parties w o u l d be required to e n d o r s e the " n a t i o n a l p h i l o s o p h y . " In d e m o c r a t i c thought and p r a c t i c e , the link b e t w e e n f r e e d o m of e x p r e s s i o n and the freedom of citizens to form political parties is indissoluble. Failure to respect the principle of that relationship does not bode well for democratic socialism in Nigeria. In fact, the Armed Forces Ruling Council subsequently accepted the two-party recommendation without reference to the proposed national policy of socialism. 1 7 Whatever the outcome of the national debate, now in progress, the report of the Political B u r e a u d o e s reflect an undoubted partiality for s o c i a l i s m among Nigerian intellectuals. In Nigeria, as elsewhere, the strength of socialism as a creed for intellectuals varies directly with the growth of capitalism and its baneful side effects, principally urban poverty, high unemployment, and profiteering at the public expense. With socialist conviction, the Political Bureau advocates nationalization of the entire oil industry and other " c o m manding heights" of the economy: "public utilities; enterprises which require heavy capital expenditure; enterprises and property which are tied up with the political integrity and security of the nation and other monopoly-type enterprises which generate imperfection in the market and prevent resources from being put to their most efficient use such a s the distribution of essential c o m modities." 1 8 However, private enterprise would be retained in both agriculture and the small-to-medium-sized business sector.

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All told, this avowedly socialistic blueprint envisions the coexistence of capitalist, socialist, and democratic thought and practice. But each of these idea systems would be diluted in the mixture. It could be argued, justly if not persuasively, that the blueprint is neither capitalist, socialist, nor democratic; that its economic orientation is merely statist (rather than truly socialist), while its proposed form of political representation is illiberal. In fairness, however, it should also be observed that the blueprint is genuinely constitutionalist: it would divide the powers of government, and render officials accountable for their actions under the rule of law. Wherever they function, constitutional forms of government open the door to movements for democracy and social justice. In South Africa, a strong affinity for democratic socialism motivates the rapidly growing, organized black labor movement. The two principal black labor federations—the Congress of South African Trade Unions (COSATU) and the National Council of Trade Unions (NACTU)—are clearly so inclined. COSATU's formal endorsement of the 32-year old Freedom Charter in July 1987 signifies dedication to political democracy, an attachment to the African National Congress in national politics, and support for the belief that mines, banks, and monopoly industries should be publicly owned. In 1986, COSATU, the ANC, and the latter's own trade-union arm issued a joint communique to express, inter alia, their " c o m m o n u n d e r s t a n d i n g that victory [over the apartheid system] must embrace more than formal political democracy." 1 9 That elliptical phrase could imply a leaning toward socialist measures. COSATU's president has expressed his own belief in both multi-party democracy and "socialism as practiced by the Labor Party in England." 2 0 Neither COSATU nor its rival, NACTU (aligned with Azapo and the black consciousness philosophy), is in the least inclined to relinquish its autonomy of action as a worker's organization to any political party. Each prides itself on the democratic practice of worker control that has characterized the phenomenal growth of black trade unionism since 1969. Trade union autonomy is a prime marker for the great divide between democratic and Leninist socialism. THE CAPITALIST MOVEMENT The phrase "capitalist movement" will seem odd to many of those who readily accept the idea of a socialist, or worker's movement. Various other movements also pass muster easily in historical and social studies—for example, movements of farmers, teachers, and women. No less familiar are racial, religious, conservative, and reform m o v e m e n t s . But the idea of a capitalist movement is rarely suggested and liable to be challenged as a figment of borderline imagination. After all, it will be objected, capitalists constitute "interests" rather than "movements." However, Martin Sklar has described an irrepressible capitalist movement in the United States of America during the era of "corporate reconstruction." 21

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From the vantage point of social history, he observes, capitalists, like workers and farmers, are "people with goals, values, ideas and principles . . . with a way of life to develop, defend and extend." 22 Their objectives and achievements will be caricatured and misunderstood if they are portrayed as disembodied interests, contained and isolated for sterile analysis within the concept of "capital." In this section, Martin Sklar's concept of a capitalist movement will be used to interpret currents of thought and related actions in support of economic enterprise based on the private ownership of productive property. In view of a common ideological tendency to counterpose private and state enterprise as antithetical activities, let it be said that capitalist movements have never been antagonistic to a supportive role for public or state investment and economic management. In its early mercantilist stage, Western capitalism justified state direction of the economy as a matter of principle. Ever since, when capitalist movements have been either ascendant or growing in strength and influence, the state has been called upon routinely to undertake economic projects that are needed to foster private enterprise albeit beyond the capacity of profit-seeking private firms to pursue. As Robert Heilbroner has written: The state foists upon the public the costs of those activities that would result in monetary "losses" if they were carried out by the e c o n o m i c sphere . . . This socialization of losses applies to much of the network of canals, railw a y s , highways, and airways that have played an indispensable part in capitalist growth, as w e l l as the provision of literate and socialized work forces through public education programs, the protection of public health and the like. 2 3

In every capitalist economy, as Heilbroner observes, "the normal operation of the market system would be unsustainable without the socializing, protecting, and stimulating state activities that further the regime of capital." 24 During the early stages of industrialization, public management and regulation tends to overshadow the effects of private initiatives regardless of a government's ideological preference. In sub-Saharan Africa today, state enterprise bulks larger in proportion to total economic activity than it does in any other market-economy region of the Third World. The extent of subSaharan Africa's economic statism is summarized in a 1986 report of the World Bank thus: Public sector e m p l o y m e n t is half of all modern sector employment, c o m pared with only one-third in Asia. A l l o w i n g for country size, public enterprises are more numerous than in most other developing countries, and they e n g a g e in a w i d e r array of activities. Public investment accounts for the bulk of investment in the formal sector. 2 5

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Many analysts of the economic crisis in Africa have targeted the inefficiency and mismanagement of this allegedly "over-extended" public sector as a primary cause of economic stagnation. 26 Consequently, the policy of "privatization," involving divestiture by the state, has been featured in debates on development. But reform strategies designed to increase public-sector efficiency may be more practical where natural resource and utility companies are concerned. As A. M. Hawkins has observed: It is doubtful whether private sector funding exists in most countries to take over state-owned enterprise. A more promising approach would be to restructure economic policy along market-oriented lines and to revise the guidelines within which public enterprises will operate in the future. 27

Beyond that kind of residual commitment to state enterprise, and apart from occasional deviant proposals to extend the public sector ( v i d e the Nigerian advisory commission's socialistic report of 1987), there does now appear to be a continent-wide consensus on the centrality of private enterprise to African economic recovery and progress. Not since the era of formal decolonization have political conditions for the emergence of African capitalist movements been as auspicious as they are today. Nor, since that time and with very few exceptions, have political scientists studied African businessinterest groups objectively and without pejorative or restrictive categorization. 28 Hence it is surprisingly difficult to adduce scholarly evidence of capitalist political organizations in black Africa; and without such facts and figures it is impossible to infer the existence of a capitalist movement. However, the insufficiency of scholarly data for propositions that accord with common knowledge should not deter theoretical consideration of their significance. In subjects that are highly liable to ideological distortion, the order of thought often diverges from the order of things. African business movements are not alone in the shadow of scholarly neglect. With several notable exceptions, it is also fair to say that "the political aspects of labor movements [in Africa] have not been deeply researched." 29 Political research on the capitalist movement in Africa might begin with analyses of the thought of capitalist planners and theoreticians. A starting point could be the pathfinding Conference on the Enabling Environment for Private Sector Contributions to Development held in Nairobi, in October 1986, and attended by some 150 delegates, including African ministers and civil servants, business executives (both African and international), and officials of voluntary development assistance agencies. 30 The opportune concept, "enabling environment," had been proposed by Prince Sadruddin Aga Khan (formerly U.N. High Commissioner for Refugees), spiritual leader of the Ismailis, a Shiite Muslim sect with varied communal, commercial, and educational interests in East Africa. 31 Organized by the Aga Khan Foundation, this conference allowed for the confluence of various currents of African capitalist

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thought. The main themes and conclusions have been summarized in an insightful report by Goran Hyden, to which this précis is indebted. 32 Development planners of diverse ideological persuasions now believe that individual initiatives in the private sector are required to arrest and reverse Africa's current economic decline. In their collective view, The key to the solution of the current African malaise is a release of the energies of the many million African producers, both men and women. The encouragement of African entrepreneurship is essential. Where indigenous entrepreneurship flourishes and markets develop, it will also become easier to attract foreign capital. Thus, there is a synergy between indigenous and international business. 3 3

Hence they advocate movement "toward freer markets and more realistic prices for products, capital, labor, and foreign exchange." In the short run, however, such policies may be expected to impose hardships on poor urban dwellers, which could lead to political unrest. Therefore, it will be necessary "to mitigate the potential negative consequences associated with the shift toward greater reliance on market mechanisms." In this connection, voluntary agencies are designated to assume growing responsibilities for the provision of c o m m u n i t y services, w h i l e the World Bank conducts continent-wide research in support of governmental attempts "to monitor the changing conditions of different socio-economic groups." High points of the capitalist agenda include these items: • Elimination of price controls in conjunction with measures to increase competition and avoid monopolies and cartels, "whether by parastatals or by private business"; • Gradual reduction of exchange controls balanced by reduced protectionism in the industrial countries; • Elimination of counter-productive "red tape" in regulatory systems devised by governments for business enterprise; • Reform of the parastatal sectors, including privatization as a "tool" and not "as an end in itself'; • Credit facilities and technical assistance for small businesses and farming; • Product specialization among countries and other devices to enhance the viability of regional markets. Several years ago, Crawford Young wrote, with reference to African states, "The capitalist pathway in Africa has numerous followers but few partisans." 34 Today, the spirit of capitalism in Africa is abroad, and away from the shadow of desiccating doubt. It is manifest in the privatization policies of many governments, the virtual abandonment of socialistic economic strategies by once-doctrinaire regimes (e.g., Benin, Congo, Angola, and Mozambique),

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the growing emphasis on business management as a subject of study in postsecondary education, a concerted effort to promote the creation of small enterprises in francophone countries, 3 5 and in many other ways. What twist of irony brings the ruling party of Guinea-Bissau, at its fourth congress, to launch a "second struggle for national liberation" under the banner of incentives for the development of private enterprise? "Twelve years of nationalization have been the hallmark of the former Portuguese colony, and have left it in a state of almost total collapse." 3 6 Am ilcar Cabral, revolutionary realist, might have changed course more rapidly and with less rhetorical ado. TRANSCENDENCE In the "great competition" between capitalism and socialism for influence in Africa, no final decision can be rendered during the current era of extreme disparity between Africa and the industrial countries with respect to wealth, income, scientific knowledge, and overall power in the world. Few sophisticated socialists today rate the "developmental merits" of socialism above those of capitalism; fewer still would dispute the short-term advantages of capitalism for societies at early stages of industrial development. Instead, they argue that socialism is morally superior to an economic system, such as capitalism, that depends upon the domination and exploitation of working people by a privileged class. 3 7 Socialism persists as an ideological and political movement, regardless of its failures, because capitalism is unalterably identified with social injustice. Personal insecurity, social disorganization, and urban unemployment are the spectral witnesses of African capitalism from Abidjan to Nairobi. Still, three decades of trial and error, in Africa and elsewhere in the Third World, have also acquainted social reformers with the pitfalls of socialism. The hardest lesson for socialists to learn is one that Karl Marx taught better than anyone else. Plainly stated, there is no substitute for capital; it is the driving force of economic development. Twentieth-century socialists in capital-scarce countries became statists, not because they had an especially hearty appetite for regulation, but to compensate for shortages of private capital that were either inherited or created by their own policies. Ironically, socialists in the industrialized West, where capital was abundant, subordinated their own thinking to the statist doctrines of socialists in the capital-scarce countries. Hence the ideological confusion of western socialists today, as development theorists from left to right, including many socialists in the capital-scarce countries, become increasingly critical of the doctrines and methods of economic statism. With the resurgence of development strategies centered on private-sector initiatives, it has become important to distinguish carefully between ideological criticisms of economic statism and those which are practical in their conception. The former disparage state enterprise on the ground that it threatens

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democracy, either because the state, itself, resists democratization, or because it becomes an object of acquisitive and rapacious private attention. The latter caution against methods of economic management that are insufficiently productive and result in stagnation. For pragmatists, who seek to reverse Africa's economic decline, strictly moral condemnations of economic statism are quite beside the point. A second important lesson for socialists, one that cannot, alas, be learned from Marx, is that socialism lacks an adequate theory, or example, of incentives. Before Marx, Robert Owen grappled with the problem in a socialist community by means of education and manipulation of psychic rewards by paternalistic managers. In this century, revolutionary socialists from Trotsky and Stalin to Mao Zedong, Castro, and Sékou Touré have tried to compensate for the weakness of socialist incentives for both workers and managers by resorting to combinations of moral suasion and coercion—poor substitutes for personal motivation. At the executive level, studies of economic management in socialist countries almost invariably reveal its ingrained conservatism. Alec N o v e ' s reflection on the problem is as realistic as it is picturesque: "Many managers seek a quiet life, have not the slightest desire, or aptitude, for facing the cold winds of markets or (God forbid!) competition." 38 His counsel for transition from the socialism-we-know to "developmental socialism" includes the maintenance of "a market environment" to stimulate "individual and group initiative." 39 While socialists need to acknowledge the developmental merits of capitalism, those who favor capitalism ought to be equally candid about the "socialization of losses" that underlies every development program in the continent. As Richard Sandbrook observes, with reference to African development: A range of economic conditions must be fostered by the state. Services that directly facilitate production—roads, railways, ports, airports, electricity, water and telecommunications—is one of these. Essential public services that directly assist production as they promote a skilled, healthy, motivated labor force are also important; these include schools, technical education, public housing, sanitation and facilities for sports and health. The public sector may also intervene directly through subsidy or investment in industries which are essential to expansion of complementary industries but are too risky to attract private investors. Publicly owned steel or transport or cement may sometimes play a significant economic role even if they are not profitable in themselves. Finally, the state should regulate foreign economic relations in order to maximize the local benefits. 40 Lest it be imagined that state participation in the development of capitalism is largely confined to background investments in the infrastructure, basic industries, and public services, let us reflect with Sayre Schatz that "capitalist success stories" in Korea, Japan, Mexico, Brazil, and elsewhere were all made

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possible by state intervention "by way of subsidies, protection, guaranteed markets, and other forms of 'price distortion' in order to create an abundance of profitable investment opportunities." 4 1 The socialist counterpoint to our previous observation that "there is no substitute for capital" is the incontestable retort that there is no substitute for an actively interventionist state. To balance the scales of developmental merit, socialists may seek to offset the gravity of their problem with incentives by weighing the deficiencies of capitalism in regard to the well-being of poor people in poor countries. The statistical evidence, regularly presented by the World Bank, is sobering. In 1980, an estimated 780 million people in third-world countries with capitalist economies—between 35 and 40 per cent of their total population—lived in "absolute poverty," defined to mean "a condition of life so characterized by malnutrition, illiteracy and disease as to be beneath any reasonable definition of human decency." 4 2 In 1984, the World Bank assessed Africa's economic plight thus: "No list of economic or financial statistics can convey the human misery spreading in sub-Saharan Africa." Child mortality was "double the average" for all developing countries, while the estimated number of "severely hungry and malnourished people" in Africa was 100 million. 4 3 None of this would persuade proponents of capitalism to concede advantages to socialists on the equitarian ledger. In our time, the correlation of socialism to improvement in the physical quality of life is no more likely to be positive than that of capitalism. For example, in South Korea's "middle class society" (average per capita income approximating $2,500 in 1987, while the average young adult had 12 years of formal education), most people are far better off materially than their occupational counterparts in communist North Korea, despite the continuing depression of South Korean wages relative to gains in productivity. 4 4 In A f r i c a ' s leading instance of long-term experimentation with socialist methods—that of Tanzania—economic stagnation has largely negated the beneficent effects of equitarian policies, despite an unusually high degree of dependence on foreign aid for domestic investments. 4 5 Relatively few Kenyans, today or in the foreseeable future, would trade places with Tanzanians. Yet socialist economic failures contrasted with capitalist success stories, in Africa and elsewhere for that matter, afford small comfort to millions in Kenya, Nigeria, and other exemplars of third-world capitalism, whose lives are blighted by growing poverty, recurrent unemployment, debilitating illness, and inadequate education. Just as socialism sputters and stalls in practice for want of a realistic theory of incentive, so too does capitalism marginalize concern for human need while the factors of production are being combined to form efficient economic organizations. In the advanced capitalist democracies, social stability is predicated on " t r a d e - o f f s " between "equality and e c o n o m i c efficiency." Arthur Okun ventures the view that capitalism and democracy "need each other—to put some rationality into equality and some humanity into efficiency." On that basis, he argues, it is now "within the g r a s p " of industrial

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capitalism to eradicate poverty. 46 No such claim would be remotely credible for capitalism in the Third World, where the relatively modest challenge of " m o r e efficiency without less equity" appears to indicate the m i n i m u m requirement for effective political order, 47 if not, indeed, the very survival of national political communities. To aim higher at the dual goal of capitalist economic development and substantial improvement in the quality of life for a growing proportion of those who benefit marginally, if at all, f r o m the spread of capitalism it would be necessary to balance increases in efficiency with even greater proportionate increases in equity. However, it is difficult to imagine how that could be accomplished without a non-ideological theory of public and collective responsibility for the well-being of all citizens regardless of their economic circumstances. "Welfare capitalism," the sturdy fosterchild of industrial capitalism, has no home in the Third World. Like socialism, it is ill-adapted to formative and variable economic environments. In sum, socialism needs capital and lacks a theory of incentive; capitalism needs the state and lacks a theory of social responsibility. The African economies need private capital, p u r p o s e f u l state participation, p o w e r f u l incentives, and public responsibility for the general standard of living. These common requirements for social progress can only be met by judicious mixtures of capitalism and socialism. However, the so-called mixed economy signifies an armed truce in the enduring state of ideological belligerency, or righteous warfare, between its principal elements. In theoretical as well as practical concerns, "necessity is the mother of invention." Challenged by social problems of unprecedented severity, development theorists in Africa need to question the validity of restrictive political conceptions. Narrowly construed, "the great competition" between capitalism and socialism may prove to be one such barrier to a break-through in theory and practice. 48 In Africa, outside of South Africa, the premise of competition between capitalism and socialism has very little significance outside intellectual circles, where it does impair the ability of theorists to contribute new ideas to the campaign for development. Meanwhile it scarcely affects the attitudes or judgments of government officials or business executives. Moreover, empirical studies indicate that this conception of ideological conflict no longer serves as a guide to policy or statecraft in African countries—apart from South Africa, where government policies still exacerbate tendencies toward ideological holy war with devastating effects. As Gerald Bender has observed, it is impossible to differentiate systematically between Marxist-Leninist and other African states in regard to their policies for development or their political structures. 49 In those countries with avowed Marxist-Leninist regimes—Angola, Benin, Congo, Ethiopia, Madagascar, M o z a m b i q u e , Somalia, and Z i m b a b w e — e m p i r i c a l studies reveal no less, and often more, political and religious freedom than in the vast majority of other states, including the one-party capitalist bastions of Gabon, Cote d'lvoire, Kenya, Malawi, Togo, and Zaire. With the possible exception

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of President Mengistu Haile-Mariam, no Marxist-Leninist chief executive in Africa has as much personal autonomy as do Presidents Omar Bongo, Félix Houphouët-Boigny, Daniel arap Moi, Kamuzu Banda, Gnassingbe Eyadema, or Mobutu Sese Seko. Bender has also noted that no real difference can be discerned between Marxist-Leninist and other African regimes regarding the role of the state in the economy. 50 "Communist" Congo has long boasted a freer commercial system than "capitalist" Zaire. 51 There has been a significant degree of deviation from the norm for small-scale enterprise in those "socialist" states which have tried, with ruinous and tragic consequences, to either abolish or severely curtail private trading. Virtually all such policies have been repudiated by the governments concerned as acts of folly. Thus, Samora Machel, the late President of Mozambique, is reported to have declared in a speech that Marxism-Leninism does not require the state to sell tomatoes or matches. 52 From his vantage point on Angolan policies, Bender has observed that the regime's continued adherence to Marxism-Leninism as an official ideology is the direct consequence of South Africa's undeclared war, and that its termination would signal the end of Angola's military dependence on Cuba and the Soviet Union. Many Angolan leaders "feel an urgency to move away from socialism and toward a free-market economy." Meanwhile, he concludes, "South Africa is the biggest obstacle to Angola's movement away from both Marxism-Leninism and dependence on the Soviet Union." 5 3 Peaceful relations between South Africa and its neighbors would be conducive to the growth and spread of capitalism in three countries that are now ruled by Marxist-Leninist regimes as a result of revolutionary struggles against white supremacy. However, the indispensable condition of international peace in Southern Africa is the democratization of government in South Africa—specifically, the acceptance of common (non-racial) political institutions by the white population. The removal of race as a barrier to the enjoyment of common rights by all citizens would allow the currents of ideological and social renewal to course through the arteries of a social system that is already quickened by its industrial heart. In South Africa, a capitalist movement of class-conscious entrepreneurs, corporate organizers, and committed intellectuals has been evident for at least a century. 54 South Africa is the sole African country where a relatively mature capitalist movement is ahead of its socialist counterpart in ideas and organization. Needled and stimulated by socialist gadflies, South African capitalists could contribute handsomely to the creative processes of hybrid formation and social invention. Every national economy in Africa, from the least industrial to the most, is presently crippled by the effects of widespread poverty and low levels of human nurture—health care, nutrition, basic education, and occupational training. The challenges of economic development call for policies and practices that are difficult to pursue simultaneously because each is selectively identified

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with either capitalism or s o c i a l i s m and, c o n v e r s e l y , incompatible with the other. Thus social service policies equal to the requirements of human nurture far e x c e e d the capacity of capitalism in Africa. Similarly, incentive mechanisms suitable for the mobilization of human resources and maximization of productivity elude the grasp of socialists in power. These and other prerequisites of sustained e c o n o m i c development are weakened by the absence of synthesizing ideas that could supersede the great capitalist-socialist competition. Progress toward a unified theory might also release developmental energies that are scarcely imagined by those w h o practice the art of e c o n o m i c development today.

NOTES The author is grateful to Geoffrey Bergen for his expert research assistance. 1. Ronald Robinson and John Gallagher, Africa and the Victorians: the official mind of imperialism (New York 1961), 379^409. 2. On the pitfalls of socialism in Africa, see Crawford Young, Ideology and Development in Africa (New Haven 1982). 3. N i c h o l a s H a r m a n , "East Africa: turning the corner," in The Economist (London), June 20, 1987. 4. Michael F. Lofchie, "Agrarian Socialism in the Third World: the Tanzania case," in Comparative Politics 8, 3 (New York April 1976), 479-^99; and Dean E. McHenry, Jr., Tanzania's Ujamaa Villages: the implementation of a rural development strategy (Berkeley 1979). 5. Twenty out of 52 sovereign African states are so governed, based on this write r ' s modification of e n u m e r a t i o n s in Claude S. Phillips, The African Political Dictionary (Santa Barbara 1984), 75 and 83. 6. In a m a j o r address, President José Eduardo dos Santos of the P e o p l e ' s Republic of Angola has called for scientific balance in the teaching of economics at the national university, in conjunction with a comprehensive program of economic restructuring, to include expansion of the private-enterprise sector, removal of price controls, contraction of the state sector, and affiliation with the International Monetary Fund. "The teaching of economics," he declared, "should be seen as a branch of science involving responsibilities similar to those demanded of physics, biology or medicine. This means that the excessive burden of political content in the study of economics must be counterbalanced with diversified and up-to-date information on the various currents of modern economics." Jornal de Angola (Luanda August 18, 1987), translated by Gerald J. Bender. 7. Onigu Otite, "Introduction. The Study of Social Thought in A f r i c a , " and "Issues in African Socialism," in Otite (ed.), Themes in African Social and Political Thought (Enugu 1978), 9 - 1 1 and 138-156. 8. For an insightful comparison of Nyerere and Senghor, see Paul Nursey-Bray, "Consensus and Community: the theory of African one-party democracy" in Graeme Duncan (ed.), Democratic Theory and Practice (Cambridge 1983), 96—111. 9. Rhoda E. Howard, Human Rights in Commonwealth Africa (Totowa, 1986), chs. 6, 7, and passim. 10. On N k r u m a h ' s intellectual evolution, see Paulin J. H o u n t o n d j i , African Philosophy (Bloomington 1983), chs. 6 and 7. 11. See Patrick Chabal, Amilcar Cabrai: revolutionary leadership and people's war (Cambridge 1983).

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12. Ibid., 177. 13. Reproduced in Michael Sinclair, Community Development in South Africa (Washington, D.C. 1986), appendix iii. 14. Quoted in John Saul, "South Africa: the question of strategy," in New Left Review 160 (London November-December 1986), 11. 15. Heribert Adam and Kogila Moodley, South Africa Without Apartheid: dismantling racial domination (Berkeley and Los Angeles 1986), 248-263; Saul, loc. cit.; Thomas G. Karis, "South African Liberation: the communist factor," in Foreign Affairs 65, 2 (New York Winter 1986/87), 267-287; and Tom Lodge, "State of Exile: the African National Congress of South Africa, 1 9 7 6 - 1 9 8 6 , " in Third World Quarterly 9, 1 (London January 1987), 1-27. 16. This discussion of the Political Bureau's report to the Armed Forces Ruling Council is based on its summary and analysis in Newswatch (Lagos April 13, 1987), which was confiscated by the authorities in Nigeria, who forbade the further publication of this weekly magazine for six months as punishment for the unauthorized disclosures. For a comprehensive analysis of the report, based on Newswatch, see Larry Diamond, "Nigeria: pluralism, statism and the struggle for democracy," in Diamond, Juan Linz, and Seymour Martin Lipset (eds.), Democracy in Developing Countries, Vol. II, Africa (Boulder 1988). For the Government's own views and analysis, see Federal Republic of Nigeria, Government's Views and Comments on the Findings and Recommendations of the Political Bureau (Lagos 1987). 17. Ibid., 43. 18. Newswatch (April 13,1987), 16. 19. "Statement: COSATU, SACTU, and the ANC," in Sechaba (Lusaka May 1986), 11. 20. "Interview: Elijah Barayi," in Africa Report 31, 2 (New Brunswick MarchApril 1986), 18. 21. Martin J. Sklar, The Corporate Reconstruction of American Capitalism, 1890-1916: the market, the law, and politics (Cambridge 1988). 22. Ibid., 2-3; also 11-14 and 20-33. 23. Robert L. Heilbroner, The Nature and Logic of Capitalism (New York 1985), 102. 24. Ibid., 104. 25. World Bank, Financing Adjustment with Growth in Sub-Saharan Africa, 1986-90 (Washington 1986), 21. The term "formal sector" refers to economic activity that is effectively subject to "formal rules" embodied in "contracts, licenses, labor inspection," and similar legally enforceable devices. International Labor Organization, World Labor Report (Geneva 1984), 25. 26. World Bank, Accelerated Development in Sub-Saharan Africa: an agenda for action (Washington D.C. 1981), 5 and 40-44; for the ensuing debate see, inter alia, Robert S. Browne and Robert J. Cummings, The Lagos Plan of Action vs. The Berg Report (Lawrenceville 1984); and John Ravenhill (ed.), Africa in Economic Crisis (New York 1986). Cf Larry Diamond, "Class Formation in the Swollen African State," in the Journal of Modern African Studies 25, 4 (Cambridge December 1987), 567-596. 27. A.M. Hawkins, "Can Africa Industrialize?" in Robert J. Berg and Jennifer Seymour Whitaker (eds.), Strategies for African Development (Berkeley 1986), 299. 28. The writings of Donal Cruise O'Brien on Senegal constitute a significant exception. He describes a theocratic-entrepreneurial elite (the sufi marabouts) that acts as a democratic force insofar as its ability to procure disciples depends on its use of the political process to satisfy their economic needs. "Wails and Whispers: the people's voice in West African Muslim politics," in Patrick Chabal (ed.), Political

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Domination in Africa: reflections on the limits of power (Cambridge 1986), 71-83. 29. See Chapter 15 of this book, p. 296. 30. Financial Times (London November 1, 1986). This conference was sponsored by three governmental and three non-governmental organizations; namely, the World Bank, African Development Bank, Government of Kenya, Kenya Association of Manufacturers, Voluntary Agencies Development Assistance (Kenya), and InterAction (U.S.A.). Goran Hyden, "Business and Development in Sub-Saharan Africa," in UFSl Reports 25 (Indianapolis 1986), Africa/Middle East, 8 , 1 2 . 31. Ibid. 32. Ibid., 6 - 7 . Quotations from Hydcn's lucid summary. 33. Ibid., 6. 34. Young, Ideology and Development, 183. 35. African Research Bulletin: economic, financial, and technical 23, 1 (Exeter February 28, 1986), 8067. 36. Ibid., 23, 22 (December 31, 1986), 8468. 37. For the idea of "developmental merits" in relation to the choice between capit a l i s m and s o c i a l i s m , s e e S a y r e P. S c h a t z , " P o s t i m p e r i a l i s m and the G r e a t C o m p e t i t i o n , " in David G. Becker, Jeff Frieden, Schatz, and Richard L. Sklar, Postimperialism: international capitalism and development in the late twentieth century (Boulder and London 1987), 197-198. 38. Alec Nove, The Economics of Feasible Socialism (London 1983), 177. 39. Ibid., 183-196 and 199. 40. Richard Sandbrook with Judith Barker, The Politics of Africa's Economic Stagnation (Cambridge 1985), 34. 41. Sayre P. Schatz, "Laissez-Faircism for Africa?," in The Journal of Modern African Studies, 25, 1 (March 1987), 138. 42. World Bank, Poverty and Human Development (Oxford 1980), v and 1. 43. World B a n k , Toward Sustained Development in Sub-Saharan Africa (Washington, D.C. 1984), 9. 44. Hanh Been Lee, "Korean Development: lessons, problems and prospects," David Dollar and Kenneth Sokoloff, "Economic Growth and Income Inequality in South Korea," and Aidan Foster-Carter, "A Comparison and Assessment of the Two Koreas," Conference on "The Role of the State in Economic Development: Republic of Korea," University of California, Los Angeles, 14-16 August 1987. 45. Foreign aid accounted for two-thirds of Tanzanian gross domestic investment in 1979. Howard, op. cit., 76. 46. Arthur M. Okun, Equality and Efficiency: the big tradeoff (Washington, D.C. 1975), 117 and 120. 47. I am indebted to Jeff Frieden for this formulation. "Equity"—defined here to connote social and economic justice—is a more realistic goal/value for social reformers in the Third World than Okun's "equality." 48. Sayre P. Schatz, w h o s e t h e s i s — " t h e character of the c o n t e m p o r a r y era depends upon the superiority of either capitalism or socialism" for "development tasks" in the Third World—has stimulated the argument of this section, does not, by any means, construe the "great competition" narrowly. Yet his thesis does diverge, avowedly so, from that of David G. Becker and the present writer, who reject the proposition that competition between capitalism and socialism is a fundamental issue for development in the Third World. See Schatz, "Postimperialism and the Great Competition," 193 and 197, and Becker, "Postimperialism: a first quarterly report," in Becker, Frieden, Schatz, and Sklar, op. cit., 215-217. See also the historical investigation of this issue in another context by Martin Sklar, op. cit., whose encouragement of the transcendence thesis in this section is indistinguishable from its origin.

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49. Gerald J. Bender. "The United States and Africa," Presidential Address to the Twenty-Ninth Annual Meeting of the African Studies Association, Madison, Wisconsin, October 31, 1986. 50. Personal Communication. 51. The Wall Street Journal (New York July 2,1980), Jonathan Kwitny. 52. Elliot Berg, "The World Bank's Strategy," in Ravenhill (ed.), op. cit., 57. 53. Bender, "The United States and Africa," and personal communication. 54. For the rise of a capitalist intelligentsia in South Africa, see Belinda Bozzoli, The Political Nature of a Ruling Class: capital and ideology in South Africa, 1890-1933 (London 1981).

17 Doctrines of Development and Precepts of the State: The World Bank and the Fifth Iteration of the African Case C. S. Whitaker

As is now widely recognized, ideas about the conditions of economic success or failure, including the African case, entail a view of the state. Thus, predominant assumptions concerning efficacy in the economic sphere mirror, or are mirrored by, prevalent notions regarding the proper character and role of structures of national authority. To this extent, and in relation to emergent states particularly, deliberate strategies of economic development reflect political premises and aims. Often, the crux of the matter appears to be speculation about the extent to which economic development requires particular structures of governance. Accordingly, shifts of thinking in the economic sphere are associated historically with alterations of viewpoints in the political domain, usually following an accumulation of evidence that a particular approach to economic development problems has failed. In this regard, Africa frequently has served, consciously or not, as a principal proving ground of changing visions. As an institution, the World Bank is a power to be reckoned with, not only financially, but also in conceptual and policy marketplaces. With the publication of its latest report on Africa, Sub-Saharan Africa: From Crisis to Sustainable Growth, the Bank has fortified a position of strategic influence in the realm of ideas c o n c e r n i n g the processes of e c o n o m i c d e v e l o p m e n t . Inevitably, the Bank's economic thinking involves political precepts, despite the fact that historically the Bank has eschewed making political judgments, partly no doubt because effective exercise of its international mandate ultimately depends upon the cooperation of a wide variety of political regimes. Significantly, however, in this latest document, one of a series, the Bank appears to have placed on an equal footing certain conflicting precepts of the state that have emerged in debates about economic development in the period since the end of World War II, a debate generated in no small measure by changing ideas of the Bank itself. This chapter attempts to explain the Bank's latest stance as an outcome of important controversies about what role the state should or should not play in a country's bid to advance economically, particularly in the African setting. In this context, the chapter also offers a critique of the Bank's analysis and prescription with respect to African economic development. Specifically, we argue that the Bank has insufficiently appreciated, at least for purposes of

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its latest report, the extent to which the quality of relationship between state and society in Africa, as opposed to concern with the capacity of state institutions as such, is crucial for both economic development and democratic political formation. A s a consequence, the Bank has missed an important opportunity to i n f l u e n c e constructively the course of both e c o n o m i c and political development in that part of the world, even though the latest report is considerably more sensitive to the issues involved than preceding reports, and certainly more so than most other treatises on the African economies. The chapter presents a critical account of opposing assumptions concerning the origin, character, and economic role of the state in Africa. It also identifies the link between these issues and the element of duality inherent in the Bank's new thinking, and it concludes with some c o m m e n t s on the implications of the Bank's quality of vision in relation to the prospects for economic development and the call for democratization in African countries. LEADING IDEAS ABOUT ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT AND THE AFRICAN STATE: THE FIVE ITERATIONS Pervasive ideas about economic progress and the role of the state have regularly emerged and been superseded by new thinking. Specifically, this area of analysis and policy has stimulated a series of different analytical paradigms, meaning bundles of logically related and internally consistent notions, concerning the structure of authority, e c o n o m i c development, and social values. A m o n g o t h e r r a m i f i c a t i o n s , t h e s e p a r a d i g m s h a v e c o n t a i n e d explicit or implicit messages of advice to policymakers, analysts, and development professionals. In the case of Africa, there have been n o fewer than five different iterations of policy in the last five decades. At least tacitly, in each of these eras of reflection and policy, the position of the state has been considered to be a key to economic development, and s o m e thought has been given to the proper alignment of e c o n o m i c and political conditions. Implicitly, a prescription concerning the role of the state has accompanied each iteration, as indicated in the following sections of this paper. Terminal Colonialism

(1945-1960):

Model the State

A s African countries approached independence, their future w a s presumed to be bound up with the ideas of m a c r o e c o n o m i c state intervention and plural democracy. Along with state sovereignty, these Western precepts w e r e conveyed to most A f r i c a n countries by their former colonial powers, particularly E n g l a n d and F r a n c e . In h a s t e , a n d in an a m b i e n c e of s e l f - c e r t a i n t y , the European f r a m e r s of the A f r i c a n constitutions (and to a great extent their African negotiating partners as well) subsumed in their m i n d s the f o r m and the content of statehood, a fallacy that ever since has bedeviled the course of African economic and political development. Typically, the principal concern of e c o n o m i c development theories has

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been the capacity of the state to effect change. The caveat that the state cannot be considered in isolation from society in the broad sense has not always been equally recognized or sufficiently stressed, however, particularly in the African case. Commonly, "the state" refers to the institutions of national government. The national state-society bond that evolved in Europe contained elements of both Gemeinschaft and Gesellschaft, that is to say, norms of both instrumentality and sentiment. These states were sustained, to be sure, by taxes and labor acquired on the implicit threat of coercion; but they were also reinforced by voluntary, affective, and even irrational sources of allegiance. 1 In this context, T h o m a s H o b b e s also contributed the critical insight that moral understanding within society concerning the need for a national modus vivendi must conceptually precede the elevation into national statehood of an effective autonomous territorial state. The specific terms of this understanding and the process by which they may have been formulated in different historical circumstances is, of course, contested ground. Yet, as Weber saw with great clarity, a state conceived on a purely instrumental basis, that is, without other sustaining sources of societal legitimacy, is only tentatively formed and is, perforce, unstable. 2 The instrumental aspects of a relationship between state and society are primarily material: at the most elemental level, the state proffers bribes and threats to accomplish desired social benefits. To the extent, however, that the ties between state and society are merely instrumental, with no transcendent implications, the state will be ineffective and vulnerable, because, among other disadvantages, there inevitably ensues the universal perception that the Peters of society are being robbed to pay the Pauls. Given z e r o - s u m e x p e c t a t i o n s , political and even e c o n o m i c activity becomes a matter of struggle to obtain and defend one's own share of the pie at the expense of others. Attempts to influence the state are necessarily secretive and cabalistic. Moreover, under these conditions, both social exclusivity and ethnocentrism can be expected. Lack of trust justifies "rent-seeking" on the part of one party or group toward another. Such conditions are particularly unpropitious for rapid economic development, which historically at crucial points has required willing cooperation and collective sacrifice. In European studies, this reality has been underscored by the recent work of social historians, who have called attention to the crucial role of voluntary action and direct negotiations among workers, farmers, and businessmen, acting under state auspicies. Prudent state interventions were possible because of perceptions of the morally disinterested and patriotic character of state authority. 3 It is also clear that the emergence of European national states accorded considerable scope and recognition to assertive subnational cultures and preexisting social precepts. 4 By comparison, the substantive (as opposed to the formal) features of the state that the regimes of terminal colonialism negotiated with African leaders

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were essentially contrived, and nearly purely instrumental. The stipulations for the transfer of external power represented the full extent and content of the independence "contract." An historical process of voluntary social identification with the state as a source and agency of transcendent values had not previously unfolded, at least not to any cogent degree. To the extent that such a process did occur in connection with independence, it happened as a concomitant of response to sudden pressure on the colonial powers to come to terms with postwar international demands for the independence of African countries. 5 African nationalist movements were likewise constrained to reach agreements with colonial governments expeditiously. In relation to internal social forces, the challenge was to arrive at a modus vivendi that was no more fundamental than necessary to achieve the early withdrawal of the European powers. The resulting state-society relationship was therefore tenuous, abstract, and superficial. This is not to say, however, that more broadly legitimate political content was of no concern. Colonial administrations had frequently bolstered their authority at the community level by appropriating the legitimate features of African institutions: the practice known as indirect rule. 6 Furthermore, preindependence African nationalism did entail the attempt to define a doctrinal basis for the terms of national incorporation. Nor was the need for deeper central state legitimation necessarily lost on the African leaders as they took over from the colonial regimes. On the contrary, initially at least, they were highly conscious and solicitous of internal sources of authority that owed almost nothing to their own. Indeed, it may well be that the superficial maintenance of public order in the immediate post-independence state partly derived from the reality that, for a time at least, the new citizens of the African countries experienced the "state" as something local and familiar, and not, as later, the distant and impenetrable officials who "took charge" at the center. As the imperial flag came down, the entity to which they had pledged their allegiance was typically a local patron, whose bid for a share of national wealth and power guaranteed a cut to them or to their relatives as political clients. As the day of national independence approached, however, the terms of the transfer of power and of assistance to new states ineluctably accorded more weight to the burgeoning power and interests of national officeholders than to the substance of nationalist discourse, to say nothing of the fabric of local institutions and social concepts. Thus, the colonial and postcolonial African states came to share the rudimentary qualities of being backed primarily by force and concerned principally with the selective distribution of benefits in exchange for support. The problem with the colonial political bequest was not therefore, as frequently claimed, that it left African leadership with an "overdeveloped state"; the difficulty has been, rather, the instrumentally legitimated content of the state. As Nelson Kasfir trenchantly has observed: "The political culture

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bequeathed by colonialism contained the notions that authoritarianism was an appropriate mode of rule and that political activity was merely a disguised form of self-interest, subversive of the public welfare." 7 Without sufficient appreciation of the implications of these origins, the early e c o n o m i c development literature contained a key flaw that is still reflected in much of the current writing, namely, the absence of attention to the "deep structure" of national institutions that were to be relied on for the success of various development schemes. 8 Working from largely unchallenged Keynesian axioms, most Western economists prescribed for these economies the macroeconomic tools (savings rates, capital-investment ratios, and so on) that were deemed to have been salutary for Western economic development. 9 This approach to economic development, in essence, applied the same modeling procedure that misleadingly underlay the structure of the instrumental state. While the role of government certainly w a s of concern to economic theorists of the day, their image of the state w a s similar to that associated with the industrialized democracies. Curiously, some anthropologists, until late in this period the only social scientists with direct experience of Africa, perhaps inadvertently lent credence to such an approach. Father Placide Tempels, for example, stressed the importance of African historical and intellectual parity with Europeans: after all, an African civil society was as conceivable as any other. 10 British anthropologists, meanwhile, drew attention to conducive indigenous political structures, implying that the basis for a politically autonomous modern state resided in the content of African traditional societies. 11 The early works of Western political scientists, among w h o m David Apter was influential, seem to have been impressed less by the substance of African state-building endeavors than by the existence of Africans evidently capable of them. Most political analysts also took it as given that the average African was for the time being mired in an inward-looking cultural system. In this perspective, transformation of functionally closed kinship relationships into structures of national integration would require tremendous leverage from the "new men" of Western inspiration. In an important sense this type of analysis envisaged African leaders playing an essentially dehumanized, functional role; in effect, they were to become the state. 12 This helps to explain the independence-era Western flirtation with Kwame Nkrumah, w h o was at the time sharpening his anti-Western rhetoric. Such peculiar alliances probably could only have been motivated by the conviction that African leaders were bringing their countries through the birth pangs of modern nationhood. Belief in the "autonomy of the political," reflected in the economic, political, and anthropological literatures sketched above, all nourished faith in the capacity of Europeanized "transitional men" to serve as "midwives to development." Meanwhile, African intellectuals in this period labored vigorously to

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redefine the terms of statehood to suit their own value preferences and presumptively those of other Africans. They soon became preoccupied, however, with j u s t i f y i n g divergences f r o m the Western-derived m o d e l s of e c o n o m i c and political experience. Such justifications typically did not take the form of indicating the gap between national p o w e r and existing sources of legitimacy, which they tended to view as backward, but rather with championing Marxist models, or hybridizations of Western and Eastern European features of the state. 1 3 A critical point about all these viewpoints is that they missed the problematic aspect of the relationship of long-established and m o r e deeply legitimated local African societies to the newly established, instrumentally formed, African national states. Early Postcolonial

Period (the 1960s): Buttress the State

The dominant v i e w s of this next iteration of African development were built upon those of the preceding one to the extent that optimism and faith in the developmental vision of African leadership persisted. Thus the shift in scholarly emphasis of this period involved recognition of the difficulties inherent in leading by example. There n o w emerged a concentration on the need to create substantially more effective structures of authority, linking state with society. Reflecting the still persistent trust in the autonomy and goodwill of political celebrities, a prominent trend w a s to herald the "tutelary" function of governing elites, whose performance w a s m a d e possible by the elimination of political c o m p e tition and the introduction of single-party states. 1 4 In this respect, theory w a s essentially keeping pace with practice. T h u s , with n o t a b l e e x c e p t i o n s , 1 5 Western observers tended to accept, albeit with mounting skepticism over the course of this period, the trend in Africa toward the repression of political opposition. T h e message to development agencies at the time w a s to buttress the state, which in theory meant centralized national institutions but in practice continued to m e a n dealing directly with national leaders, without regard for the adequacy of their social and political foundations. Commensurately, African leaders sought in various w a y s to convert the lack of social legitimacy with respect to the European-style central state into a moral virtue. W h e t h e r patriots or scoundrels, they used the l a n g u a g e of nationalism to j u s t i f y even greater concentration of political and e c o n o m i c power in the central state, which w a s n o w being touted as the essential mechanism for effective mobilization of national resources. In this connection, the principal focus of political analysis in the early 1960s w a s political parties, which a m o n g other f u n c t i o n s w e r e perceived to be engaged in motivating attitudinal change in individuals. Traditional societies, it w a s discerned, w e r e proving to be recalcitrant. A s a result, plural democracy on the European model had b e c o m e suspect.

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According to this view, political liberalism unfortunately provided too much scope for manipulative political entrepreneurs to play on ethnic sentiments. What A f r i c a n states needed w a s to reinforce rational authority. Just as political analysts in this w a y politically justified intense concentrations of state power, so advocates among economists of import-substituting industrialization f a s h i o n e d the e c o n o m i c tools of dominance: controls over e x c h a n g e , investment, and marketing. 1 6 For the moment, criticism, if any, w a s confined to questioning the technical ability of fledgling African governments to carry out "balanced g r o w t h " in the economic fronts outlined by such economists as Rostow and Lewis. Public accountability and economic probity were just presumed to be a m o n g the inherent competencies of the state. A division of labor to induce balance had characterized economic thinking in the terminal colonial period: a big lift to the economy would induce long-term g r o w t h , while the political system would balance various social interests. In this second iteration, a rationalization for disequilibrium w a s propounded: limited industrialization would provide greater balance in the long term; in the near term, elimination of resistance to authority would allow time for civil society to mature. T h i s disequilibrium w a s , of course, to b e temporary. Liberal political principles of both behavior and assessment were simply suspended for the t i m e b e i n g , d e s p i t e m o u n t i n g e v i d e n c e that the a u t h o r i t a r i a n i s m of the moment w a s b e c o m i n g institutionalized. The Praetorian

Vision (the 1970s): Cleanse the State

That political and economic disequilibrium might b e c o m e long-term or permanent had already been anticipated by a few scholars soon after independence. 1 7 By the 1970s, it had b e c o m e all too clear to many more that, in far too many cases, the concentration of power in the central state in Africa w a s being put to the self-interested uses of its economic managers. Thus, this next period witnessed a sharp reaction against past beliefs in the developmental vocation of African national leadership, based on perceptions that it had succumbed to moral turpitude. T h e mounting violence that occurred in African countries especially c a m e in for bitter denunciation, often by those w h o had been a m o n g the greatest c h a m p i o n s of the cause of the leadership's developmental mission. 1 8 Within African countries, two patterns emerged to f o r m a third, or praetorian, iteration. In the first, a military figure or coalition swept aside the postindependence leadership on the grounds that the action w a s justified by the need to purify a political process sullied by the predatory betrayal of the national welfare. In a second version, increasingly threatened national leaders d e f e n d e d their position on the basis of doctrines proclaiming the actual or potential s u b v e r s i o n of the state b y external agency; in this instance, the cleansing act involved expulsion of external actors (particularly those with sizable assets). These responses were beguiling variations on the concept of

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praetorianism: the defense of the integrity of the state by self-anointed heroes acting on behalf of the state against the state itself. 19 The practical d i v i d e n d s of praetorian intervention, however, w e r e increased police powers and confiscated resources; these were naturally placed at the disposal of the state, which further intensified concentration of state power. At this time, much of the political literature split into two camps, based on sanction of one or another of these patterns. Thus, intentionally or not, certain conservative and radical opinions alike fit into these praetorian or praetorian-like rationalizations. 20 Indeed, both renditions served to legitimate the elaboration of exotic authoritarian-nationalist dogmas. Ironically, even the "dependency" school (at the height of its influence in these years), which derided much of Africa's political leadership as pawns of international capital, nonetheless provided those same leaders with a doctrinal basis for self-regarding acts, such as the appropriation of externally owned assets that augmented the resources that enabled them to function without internal social controls. 21 The entire situation produced a political environment not unlike that of the Orwellian rhetorical world of "doublethink." African leaders seized upon Western apologia and converted them into arcane doctrines that they could then espouse in justification of their hegemony. The 1970s also brought a certain widening of the cracks in the edifice of economic theory. The postwar Keynesian consensus was undermined by economic strains in the industrialized world that cast doubt on the economic managerial capacity of governments. Nonetheless, one important strand of thought sustained a vision of governmental fairness and capability: namely, the "growth with equity" school. 22 Adherents of this school noted that even where high savings rates (previously identified as a key to growth) had been achieved, severe disproportionalities in income distribution hindered overall modernization. In this framework, the state was not yet considered a culprit. On the contrary, it potentially represented the solution: it was the only agent available to dispense aid to the deprived "target groups." While the laudable inspiration of this movement lived on in the form of the well-intentioned "Basic Human Needs" approach, later adopted by development agencies, its downfall was that aid to the neediest was placed in the hands of the most greedy—often those who occupied official positions within the central state. The Berg Report—Lagos Plan "Debate" (1980s): Circumvent the State or Further Extend It? The 1980s saw the e m e r g e n c e of f u n d a m e n t a l l y opposed d e v e l o p m e n t philosophies whose principal differences turned unequivocally on severely divided assessments of the role of the state, in part based on the African experience. One of these, represented in the African arena by the Lagos Plan of

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Action,23 projected nationalist visions of ultimate African economic self-sufficiency and unencumbered sovereignty. The image of the state in this document was reflected in the demarcation into sections related to various means of expanding and strengthening existing state institutions. The opposing developmental philosophy, derived from an antistatist tradition in economics, had been lurking in the background all along. 24 It had gained increasing credibility as Keynesian thinking waned. With respect to Africa in particular, the keystone of this approach, resurgent classicism in fact, was belief in the allocative efficiency of the market. In this view, the state was the principal source rather than the solution to African economic malaise. 25 The World Bank's Accelerated Development in Sub-Saharan Africa, popularly known as the Berg Report, represented the major statement of this tradition in application to Africa. Others have already devoted considerable attention to the "debate" between these two documents. This previous discussion has mostly focused on questions of African rights to economic self-determination, as opposed to economic efficiency in planning. The largely undetected disagreement at the root of these documents, however, was divergence over the future of the state. The authors of the Berg Report embraced the "neoclassical" position that the state's economic role should be confined to assuring the proper functioning of markets as the operative mechanism of resource allocation. In direct opposition to that view, the Lagos Plan extolled the virtues of enhanced participation of the state in the African economies. It is worth observing that the conventional wisdom about these two definitive reports might well be reversed. Thus, the usual view of these two documents was that the Lagos Plan constituted a radical defense of African power, while the Berg Report reflected Western conservatism; yet, from a historical African perspective, the Berg Report represented a radical reformulation of the role of the state, while the Lagos Plan was a call to perpetuate the status quo. In the one case, the implicit advice to the development agencies was to insist on the state's retraction from the economies that their aid had been intended to render productive. In the other case, these same agencies were urged to continue their tacit compliance with the hegemony of state power, on the grounds that it functioned as the primary engine of development. Clearly both courses could not be followed without self-contradiction and self-defeat. In this light, it should be noted that the highly charged debate over the wisdom and propriety of economic "conditionality," i.e., the policy of making external assistance contingent on the achievement of efficient use of resources, was in principle a separate issue. But both sides tended to confound that issue with that of the role of the state, each perhaps as a means of self-defense in a different way. The Berg Report served as a preliminary manifesto of sorts for the

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economic policy of structural adjustment: the policy of inducing maximum use of resources and stimulating productive growth through redistribution of economic incentives. These economic goals were unexceptionable in the African context; but the vision of the state underlying the belief that structural adjustment would be salutary was politically explosive. It basically challenged the primacy accorded the political sphere, not only in the earlier development literature, but also in the prevailing practice of African states. Thus the content of the fourth iteration depended upon whether economic or political considerations, respectively, were to be regarded as paramount. Conceptually, the premises of the Berg Report contained the defects of modernization theory all over again. That concept had fallen victim to its failure to consider adequately the motives and behavior of the political actors, especially those whose power and prominence afforded them leading roles. There now emerged the same tendency in neoclassical economics to assume progressive direction on the part of frail human protagonists. African leaders, presumably enlightened by advice such as that offered in the Berg Report, were assumed to be willing, under pressure, to go about the business of implementing the recommended procedures. Unlike the case of the early development literature, however, in this iteration cultural attitudes toward change were no longer at issue: the African public was categorically presumed to be ready to respond to positive incentives and therefore to become more collectively productive. The old problems of agency and resistance to change were resolved through a technically inspired faith in the ultimate rationality of people to make the most of concrete opportunities for progress. This response also replicated the metaphysics of modernization theory, in which a "eurhythmic" music of the spheres—normative, psychological, and institutional—had been relied upon to induce progress. 26 The importance of these two documents to debates about African development cannot be overemphasized. They served to rationalize the agenda of current public debate in Africa and provided a backdrop to scores of academic works exploring the character of state-society relations. They have stimulated a rich discussion on the basic character of the state and initiated an even more fundamental consideration of the proper alignment of state and society. Significantly, for example, the economic programs of Nigeria's two current political parties, which were established by military decree in anticipation of a return to democratic process, read as if they were drawn directly from the pages of the Berg Report and the Lagos Plan, respectively. Predictably, a similar juxtaposition may well occur as majority rule is introduced in South Africa, where the issue of economic centralism already looms large. Such discussion is absolutely germane to a legitimating process in Africa. In the nature of the case, however, polarization is not resolution. In the wake of the great debate, the Bank has obviously felt the need to address itself further to dilemmas of development in which it has been implicated by

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virtue of its position as a leading architect of economic planning. Hence, the fifth iteration of the African case. From Crisis to Sustainable Growth in the 1990s: Achieve Viable State-Society Relations Never deaf to its critics, the World Bank has in effect written a memo to itself, attempting to face up to its responsibilities in light of having countenanced, in the past, both sets of irreconcilable views on African development reflected in Berg versus Lagos. Rather than take sides, it has chosen, in its latest report on the condition of Africa's development, to try to straddle these two positions. While unyielding on the ground of its previous championship of marketbased structural remedies, the Bank has explicitly recognized in this latest document that Africa's crisis of governance is a critical factor undermining efforts at development. Hence, the report presents a "two-pronged" thematic approach to development: an "enabling environment," which translates into enhancing market operations, and a "building capacity," which essentially refers to improving the quality of governance. In this iteration the Bank has taken a stance that potentially has beneficial ramifications. In effect, it has encouraged movement between the polarized positions of those who advocate more governance in Africa versus advocates of less. By the same token, it has endorsed the aspirations of African states to be stronger, particularly at the international level, while giving sanction to the call for viable economic performance and decent government at home. At the end of the day, this stance may prove to have been a more important outcome than any implementation of the report's specific recommendations. Perhaps not surprisingly, however, the dual approach embodied in the report simply serves to elucidate dichotomies without really integrating them. For example, while it has retained the recommendations of the Berg Report concerning withdrawal of the state from national markets, it has also compiled a list of essential social services to be performed (organized under the rubric "investing in people"), which no agency other than a central state can conceivably provide or coordinate. Similarly, although the state is exhorted to abandon most of its current sources of finance, 27 it is somehow also expected to extend the reach of basic administration. Further, while the report describes well many of the problems of social legitimacy and consensus underlying the crisis of African governance, 28 it nonetheless prescribes measures that in the near term are bound to undermine what popular support African governments currently possess. Particularly noxious to African leaders will be the Bank's reiteration of the case for civil service reform, price increases, and educational user fees. That said, the authors of this report are clearly prepared, as the Berg Report was not, to provide a defense against charges of indifference to political

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considerations. As will be shown presently, this report envisions instead the reconstitution of governance in the African countries on a more sound basis of legitimation. If the Berg Report, with its claims on behalf of markets, was partly responsible for setting the economic agenda of the 1980s, the current Bank report, with its vision of governance, apparently aims to have a comparable impact on the African political economy in the 1990s. Notwithstanding this laudably heightened sensitivity to questions regarding the state, what remains unclear in this report, as will also be shown, is how political leadership will be possible in the transition to this new basis of legitimacy. Thus, a tacit question posed by the thrust of the discussion in this paper will have to be addressed explicitly. Can ruling elites that have heretofore sought legitimation primarily on an instrumental basis, that is, to speak plainly, mostly through selective bribes and measured threats, ever inspire sufficient confidence to achieve voluntary public compliance with such measures as layoffs, new taxes, and higher prices? If not, will the social forces engendered by the process of change sweep out the old leaders, only to push to the fore new political figures who will replace the old with equally suspect, irresponsible, and opportunistic populism? Obviously, this is a problem not only for the Bank to ponder, but for anyone concerned with the fate of African countries. It will be instructive to reiterate that From Crisis to Sustainable Growth retains the two images of the state discussed above and also attempts to introduce fresh discussion of African economic development. The latest report implies that somehow a stronger state may ultimately be expected to emerge from the ashes of the African state that dares to dismantle itself. Underlying this paradox is the incongruity of excessive state centralization and weak legitimacy. The Bank reconfirms a la Berg that the state should unbundle some of its authority and relegate to private and nongovernmental agencies and community-level authorities sufficient power to perform developmental tasks. But to a far greater extent than the Berg Report, the latest report also implies that economic progress cannot be decoupled from the prospects for better, as opposed to less, government. The overriding sense of the report is that more market and less state (and more market-like operation of the state even at that) will unlock much of the persistent logjam of technical, physical, and attitudinal obstacles to development. Indeed, in this respect the newest position is significantly less coy than the Berg Report, which criticized the size of states, for example, without specifically recommending public sector layoffs. 2 9 On these issues, at least, the current report takes off the kid gloves. Consistent with this tone, From Crisis to Sustainable Growth also challenges the central state's right to power as such. Astutely, but obliquely and ultimately misleadingly, however, it has done this through the disingenuous ploy of couching libertarian prescription in the genial language of social democracy.

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Thus, a deftly executed stitching together of otherwise opposing standards is executed through reference to devolution of authority from "public institutions" to "private institutions," rather than a dismantling of the state per se, which had clearly distressed the Organization of African Unity about the Berg Report. 30 Similarly, the new report embraces the theme of "growth with equity," whose absence in the Berg Report has been a major African grievance, but which in consolation is accorded the status of a chapter title here. 31 Furthermore, the overblown size and interventionist tendencies of the African state is held responsible not only for sluggish or negative growth, but for exploitation of weak social groups by stronger ones and for social inequities of various kinds. These formulations represent well-intentioned efforts to close the gap between the World Bank in the iteration of the Berg Report and critics of this position sympathetic to genuine African misgivings about drastic retreat of the state from an authoritative position. A central point of contradiction persists, however, and it lies in the question of agency. Lacking any alternative means to carry out the prescriptions of structural readjustment and related measures, we must assume that both the Berg Report and the latest report expect the African regimes to impose them on themselves. For the authors of World Bank reports the issues are fundamentally economic. For African leaders charged to implement the Bank's recommendations, however, the salient issues have to do with power. The conceptual exertions of the latest report will not suffice to reconcile those viewpoints. A stronger stand on the question of legitimacy is in order. THE PARADOX OF STRUCTURAL ADJUSTMENT The paradox of structural adjustment is that it envisages a stronger society and a weaker central state; yet, to implement the policy a vastly stronger state than currently exists is required. Ultimately, state strength is a matter of social legitimacy and institutional power: it is the ability to get people individually and collectively to forgo gratifications and voluntarily make sacrifices—and to get government to inspire this willingness. 32 The achievement of the latest report, over and above its predecessors, is that it recognizes that the crisis of African governance is a primary source rather than just a consequence of underdevelopment. Its principal failing, however, is the persistence of the illusion that this crisis can be resolved through technical policies. Social blockages are to be attacked through material incentives. With a corresponding recognition on the part of government of its profound stake in according such incentives a central place in the development process, the tendency toward government predation will be constrained or halted. In effect, the report continues to reduce the problem of political susceptibility and vulnerability to the task of attaining robust

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economic results. In another light, the report has gone no further than to propose to displace one form of instrumentally derived legitimation (state-centered) in favor of another version (market-centered). New horns of a dilemma have replaced old ones. This reality bears further elaboration. In terms of structural adjustment, for example, the stakes minimally include reform of the civil service. Public sector expenses, principally on salaries, constitute a major resource drain, given individuals and institutions whose contributions to national product do not justify their cost. Yet, as is correctly pointed out by the Bank itself, the compensation structure of the African civil service derives from specific terms of legitimation that the postcolonial African states inherited from their colonial predecessors. Much the same can be said of other putatively economic features: in effect, these states have had to purchase support, dearly, in the form of high wages, credit subsidies, and economically irrational tariff and exchange rates. These are now targeted by the Bank as a major source of investable funds that are currently being wasted. As might well be expected from the specific history, however, the individuals who benefit from this tacit (and instrumental) social contract resist its dissolution. From their point of view, what is proposed is confiscation, a devastating and unjustified assault on their standard of living. Equally to the point, these parties to the instrumental social contract tend to possess the means to resist these moves, sufficiently so that they are often able to threaten and sway governments. Thus, the nub of the dilemma presented by the World Bank's prescriptions is that although it identifies weak legitimation as a principal cause of the crisis of governance in Africa, the Bank's own policies threaten to eliminate the sources of what little legitimacy the state actually enjoys. From the perspective of the Bank's mission, on the other hand, there is no gainsaying the reality that shifting resources from old to newly competitive productive enterprises, even at the cost of existing jobs and individual well-being, is the process that accounts for the success of the world's high-income, export-based economies. The fundamental objective of structural adjustment must therefore be the means of engendering trust. To say only this much is to suggest that the instrumental m o d e of legitimation inherited f r o m the colonial state must somehow be transformed, not sidestepped, finessed, or ignored. This problem is the Achilles' heel of the Bank's penchant for technical solutions. Its latest report likewise stumbles on the reality that to enjoy adequate legitimation, the state in Africa must embody appropriate normative and psychological elements—achieving this implies reform of the entire basis of state-society relations. In framing the discussion of social gains and losses in terms of the net impact on affected "sectors" (productive sectors will gain, unproductive ones will lose out, but society will gain substantially overall), the Bank is glossing over the reality that, however reasonable, this tidy

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formula in itself is not sufficient to whip individuals or governments into postures of compliance. In fact, Bank thinking on this point, including the refinements of the latest report, both misrepresents the character of African societies and the difficulty of the task assigned to African officials. The convenience of conceptualizing "sectoral interests" rather than social connection is that it helps to define measurable policy outcomes: "urban bias" is soluble by shifting resources from the "urban" to the "rural" sector; likewise, efficiency can be obtained by transmitting managerial power from the "public" to the "private" sector. These formulations sublimely circumvent the reality that these categories connote human relations that are socially (and, in the case of Africa, communally) sanctioned. In similar vein, it is pertinent to observe that the so-called "informal sector" of the Bank's current report, which it identifies as possibly the most productive African socioeconomic sector, is in reality heavily sustained by the very networks of patronage and personal clientage that structural adjustment means to undo. The salaries of civil servants support the unemployed, the infirm, and the indigent. Rural relatives depend upon public sector remittances from the city. 33 Social security is substantially kinship and personal clientage writ large, and underwritten by government sanction. Structural adjustment pries apart these relationships. It is as much a shock to the social fabric attributable to the conditions of African statehood as it is to undesirable features of economic behavior. The African state that has been the focal point of these relations is no mere incubus that suddenly appeared on the backs of the African public. Certainly by now it constitutes a well-worn presence in people's lives. Even sullenly legitimated, the state may represent a kind of modus vivendi with society, albeit the implied contract is limited, as seems true of most African countries. Add to that understanding the widely observed custom that the state should not intrude unduly on communal life and existing social precepts. Overextended, inefficient, frequently corrupt, the African state is nonetheless the nexus of economic and social existences. In this setting, support, to be real, need not extend to enthusiastic participation. Passive legitimation is more binding than none at all. Even a state acknowledged by all to be seriously flawed draws some sustenance from an economic life that continues to work almost at any level. Abuses are tolerated. Acquiescence is still more likely if the attractions of patronage are added to the mix. To this extent, the African state is weakly but pervasively legitimated. Although it cannot be fairly said that Africans have the state they want or deserve, they do have the state they expect, in the absence of a clear alternative. Through daily participation in the economic and social system, expectation becomes the reality. The state capable of breaking through this impasse is one that is able to be convincing about a claim that redeployment of resources, acquired at the immediate expense of groups and individuals, will

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eventually yield a positive sum, a boon in some sense for everyone. This kind of strength is a matter of moral authority, not just coercive power. On the evidence, African regimes that have sought to extend their authority through purely coercive means have generally found themselves confronted with so much passive or active resistance that they either crumble or are forced to rely on external sustenance for survival. How then can African states achieve effective legitimacy as opposed to an expedient but inadequate form of it? Can Western development agencies help? CONCLUSION: DEMOCRATIZATION, LEGITIMATION, AND STRUCTURAL ADJUSTMENT An assumption that pervades much of Western thinking on development issues is that political democratization is a causal outcome of economic development. This view inevitably justifies coercion of people for the sake of development as a necessary but interim evil. The experience of Africa and elsewhere suggests, however, that this assessment scheme should be inverted. The chief barrier to development in Africa today is insecure and, overcentralized, single-party and military states. Unlegitimated by truly competitive electoral mandate and thus unsure of their authority, the leaders of singleparty and military-governed states continue to seek approval through exploitation of the patronage system, thus perpetuating the restrictive, instrumental basis of the state-society relationship established in the colonial era. This technique only confirms the cynicism of the average citizen and hinders the development of a state competent to undertake structural adjustment in earnest. On this reading, the Bank's current advice to national governments, to decentralize various e c o n o m i c and administrative functions, repeated throughout From Crisis to Sustainable Growth, is certainly a step in the right direction. A valid expectation is that the regimentation imposed by structural adjustment will be better received at the hands of authorities familiar to, and fully trusted by, producers. 34 In similar vein, decentralization of economic authority will in time cultivate an authentic taste for the presence of the state. However, decentralization of administrative and economic tasks alone is not sufficient. A vital point, on which the Bank's report is moot, is the need for concomitant political decentralization. Multiparty elections involving competitive political organizations are a sine qua non of stronger legitimation. V. 0 . Key's analysis of the one-party rural American South prior to 1950 is suggestive of the African problem. Lack of political competition in this regional American setting precluded focus on national issues of principle, thus reducing politics to an affair of local particularisms and factional grasping. 3 5 The single-party system diverted attention from national issues and

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encouraged the growth of a political culture of regional mistrust and noncooperation. The insight suggested by the analogy is that noncompetition serves to weaken the central state, not to protect it. Clearly, the authoritarian singleparty strategy in Africa has proven to be an exercise in self-delusion at best and, at worst, organized state predation that undermines all credibility. Annihilating the authority of the central state, on the other hand, is also likely to have disastrous consequences. Consider, for just one example, the dispensation of wealth derived from the mineral resources of one region of Nigeria, a federal state. Only a strong and accountable central state can undertake a fair and authoritative allocation. As seen in other cases, competitive penetration of world markets requires cooperation and bargaining among representatives of labor, management, and government. 36 Only a state that has fostered intergroup trust on a territorial scale may aspire, realistically, to that capacity. That such a process may be crucial is indicated in the experiences of Senegal and Cote d'lvoire, respectively. Of the two countries, Senegal has the stronger tradition of political interest-group strength, while Cote d'lvoire has long seen fit to impose strict control of such bodies. In Senegal, an admittedly imperfect multiparty democracy has engendered a system of industrial relations involving autonomous labor organizations in negotiations over economic policy. The Senegalese government proposed layoffs as an adjunct of its adjustment program; much unhappiness was expressed and scattered protest was registered, but the policy was nonetheless accepted. By contrast, in Cote d'lvoire, labor organizations that were reacting to wage cuts imposed by the dominant party government protested with sufficient force to induce cancellation of the program, thus subverting the government's structural adjustment efforts. The unprecedented explosion of organized protest even extended to the call for the resignation of the president. This comparative response to comparable impositions of economic sacrifice suggests the potential importance of democratic institutions to the success of structural adjustment. The latest report of the World Bank has correctly stated that reform of the central state in Africa is critical for purposes of structural adjustment, whereas in the past withdrawal of the state from economic activity was its principal concern. What remains unadvocated, however, is a central state that is strongly legitimated and highly accountable. It has overlooked or demurred from articulating the viewpoint that competitive political processes are needed to provide for fair transmission of deliberate social choices and that the procedure through which these choices are registered and conveyed will determine the strength of the state—strength that is required, in turn, for the exertions of economic development. From Crisis to Sustainable Growth does not counsel despair economically, nor does it rule out the state. Unfortunately, however, this document is

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utterly opaque, as is generally characteristic of neoclassical pronouncements, when it comes to examining the climate of government that makes possible a bona fide d e v e l o p m e n t a l role. D o e s the n i g h t - w a t c h m a n - s t a t e patrol the entire p l a n t or j u s t the b a c k d o o r ? D o e s it p e r m i t i n t e g r i t y of b o t h the guardians and the guarded? Is there scope for allegiance based on principles beyond personal self-interest? Insulated f r o m such considerations, can economic development be expected to occur? Human attitudes are not in any sense primordial; they are shaped as much by awareness of alternatives as by experience. Reaction against the calcified doctrines of single-party and military rule in Africa involve a shift of attitudes, whose formation may well be accelerated by the disintegration of authoritarian regimes in Eastern Europe and elsewhere. These events herald the relevance for Africa of a new concept of nationalism, one that rejects ideological justification of self-enriching rule in favor of insistence on accountability to the ruled and a higher sense of responsibility on the part of the rulers. Superficial attention to this discussion might lead to the mistaken conclusion that a vicious cycle of incompetent government in Africa is endemic. A closer reading is that African economic development and democracy alike are possible only with a strongly legitimated state, and that neither is possible without appropriate social expectations and response. Does the World Bank have a responsibility to advocate political goals such as democratization? To help induce change, the Bank need not inject the condescension of "political conditionality." 3 7 Indeed, pursuit of d e m o c r a c y under h e a v y - h a n d e d e x t e r n a l aegis w o u l d almost certainly not w i t h s t a n d insinuations of imperialism and backlash. Nothing bars the Bank from clear articulation, however. In fact, to the extent that Bank publications shy away f r o m openly discussing politics at the most cogent level of discourse, they do a disservice. In this light, the publication of From Crisis to Sustainable Growth is a giant step forward. To realize its own aims, however, the Bank will have to accept more readily the imperative to ascend to a loftier and still more bully conceptual pulpit than it has allowed itself in this document. NOTES This chapter was coauthored with Geoffrey Bergen. It was prepared for the World Bank Project on Governance and Economic Development in Africa, and presented at a conference of the World Bank on May 3-4, 1990, in Washington, D.C., and at the African Studies Association (USA) meeting in Baltimore, MD, November 1-4,1990. 1. For a useful discussion of theories of modern state evolution, see Gianfranco Poggi, The Development of the Modern State: A Sociological Introduction (Stanford 1978), especially Chapter 5. 2. Max Weber, Economy and Society, edited by Guenter Roth and Claus Wittich (Berkeley 1978), 212-213. 3. John H. Goldethorpe (ed.), Order and Conflict in Contemporary Capitalism (Oxford 1984).

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4. Alfred Cobban, The Nation State and National Self-Determination (New York 1970). 5. Margery Perham, The Colonial Reckoning: The End of Imperial Rule in Africa in the Light of British Experience (New York 1962). 6. This process, as it occurred in Northern Nigeria, is documented in C. S. Whitaker, The Politics of Tradition: Continuity and Change in Northern Nigeria, 1946-1966 (Princeton 1970). 7. Nelson Kasfir, quoted in N a o m i C h a z a n et al., Politics and Society in Contemporary Africa (Boulder 1988), 40. 8. The concept of a deep structure of society and culture is advanced and elaborated by Clifford Geertz, The Interpretation of Cultures (New York 1973). 9. W. Arthur Lewis, The Theory of Economic Growth (London 1955); Walter Rostow, The Stages of Economic Growth: A Non-Communist Manifesto (Cambridge 1960). 10. Placide Tempels, La Philosophie Bantoue (Elizabethville 1945). 11. M. Fortes and E. Evans-Pritchard drew a sharp distinction between "society," dominated by kinship structures, and "state," which was "never the kinship system writ large." "Introduction," in Fortes and Evans-Pritchard (eds.), African Political Systems (Oxford 1940), 6. 12. The early work of David E. Apter on Ghana provides an example of this phenomenon. In a complex Weberian formulation, he theorizes that Kwame Nkrumah's creative use of ideology, basing his charisma on an appeal to traditional symbology, would allow him to undermine and replace traditional authority and thus leave him free to bring his nation forth to modernity. There is a sense in which Nkrumah, as the transitional man, is also the state: more a dehumanized functional role than an individual. "The government of the Gold Coast . . . has both diffuse and specific sources of legitimacy. Its specific legitimacy derives from the Crown. Its diffuse effective legitimacy derives from Nkrumah . . . By endowing the roles and structures of secular government with diffuse effective legitimacy, via charisma, the institutionalization of these roles and structures has begun." Apter, The Gold Coast in Transition (Princeton 1955), 218, 304-306. 13. Kwame Nkrumah, Revolutionary Path (New York 1973); Julius K. Nyerere, Freedom and Unity/Uhuru na Umoja (London 1967); Léopold Sedar Senghor, On African Socialism, translated by Mercer Cook (New York 1964). 14. Prominent a m o n g these studies were Immanuel Wallerstein, Africa: The Politics of Independence (New York 1961); and Ruth Schacter Morgenthau, Political Parties in French-Speaking Africa (Oxford 1964). 15. One of the exceptions was Martin L. Kilson, "Authoritarianism and SingleParty Tendencies in African Politics," World Politics 15 (January 1963), 262-294. Another was Sir Arthur Lewis, Politics in West Africa (London 1965). 16. Albert Hirschman, The Strategy of Economic Development ( N e w Haven 1958). 17. René Dumont proclaimed as early as 1962 that Africa was off to a "false start." Dumont, L'Afrique Noire est Mal Partie (Paris 1962). In 1963, Richard L. Sklar identified the role of a "rising class" recognizable by occupation, income, and education in party organizations. Sklar, Nigerian Political Parties: Power in an Emergent African Nation (Princeton 1963). 18. Aristide R. Zolberg, "The Structure of Political Conflict in the New States of Tropical Africa," American Political Science Review 62 (1,1968), 760-787. 19. Keith Panter-Brick (ed.), Soldiers and Oil: The Political Transformation of Nigeria (London 1978). 20. The reference is to the conservative advocates of "departicipation" and radical proponents of nationalization as a tonic for dependent economic relations.

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21. Giovanni Arrighi and John S. Saul, Essays on the Political Economy of Africa (New York 1973). 22. Irma Adelman and Cynthia Taft Morris, Economic Growth and Social Equity in Developing Countries (Stanford 1973); Hollis Chenery et al., Redistribution with Growth (Oxford 1974). The latter study was produced under World Bank auspices and represents one of the first of many and increasingly influential Bank publications in years to follow. 23. Organization of African Unity, The Lagos Plan of Action for the Economic Development of Africa 1980-2000 (Geneva 1981). 24. P. T. Bauer and B. S. Yamey, The Economics of Under-Developed Countries (London 1957), Chap. 11; Hla Myint, The Economics of the Developing Countries (London 1964). 25. Misgivings about the state's intrusions in the economy of one of the World Bank's best African "pupils," Ivory Coast, were set forth in the report of a Bank mission headed by Bastiaan A. den Tuinder, Ivory Coast. The Challenge of Success (Baltimore 1978). 26. For an explanation and critique of this logic in modernization theory, see Chapter 8 of this book. 27. Alternative sources of finance—principally direct taxes, user fees, and foreign assistance—are also presented in the report. Insufficient attention is paid to feasibility, however. In a country such as Nigeria, for instance, the government has been unable accurately to count its people since independence; under such conditions it would be virtually impossible to administer a fair system of income taxation. 28. World B a n k . Sub-Sahara Africa, From Crisis to Sustainable Growth (Washington D.C., 1989), 60-61. 29. Accelerated Development in Sub-Saharan Africa (Washington D.C., 1981), 40-42. Instead, it rather gingerly recommends that African governments "review" their expenditure on wages and salaries. 30. It is also introducing the potentially valuable theoretical contributions of the "New Institutional Economics," which provides a basis for applying a single theory of economic organization to public and private institutions. Robert Bates's recent work on Kenya represents a creative application of the ideas of economic theorists of this school such as Oliver Williamson and Douglas North. Bates, Beyond the Miracle of the Market: The Political Economy of Agrarian Development in Kenya (Cambridge 1989). 31. World Bank, From Crisis to Sustainable Growth, Chapter 2, "Sustainable Growth with Equity." The shift in emphasis is implied in the term "sustainable," which is a reliable signal in Bank-speak that market efficiency is about to be discussed. 32. Benjamin R. Barber, Strong Democracy: Participatory Politics for a New Age (Berkeley 1984). 33. These relationships are described in a number of well-documented sources. See, for example, E. Wayne Nafziger, Inequality in Africa: Political Elites, Proletariat, Peasants and the Poor (Cambridge 1988), especially Chapter 9; and Richard L. Sklar's "Developmental Democracy," Chapter 15 of this book. 34. A great deal of evidence suggests the productive dynamism of A f r i c a n s engaged in activities beyond the state's purview. For example, Naomi Chazan has documented a resurgence of economic productivity in rural areas from which the central state has effectively withdrawn its economic controls. Chazan, An Anatomy of Ghanaian Politics: Managing Political Recession, 1969-1982 (Boulder 1983), 197-199. Janet MacGaffey has documented the vast scale and dynamism of the "second economy" in Zaire. MacGaffey, Entrepreneurs and Parasites: The Struggle for

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Indigenous Capitalism in Zaire (Cambridge 1987). 35. V. O. Key, Southern Politics (New York 1949), 16-18. The usefulness of Key's analysis to African politics is pointed out by Robert Bates, Beyond the Miracle of the Market, 91-92. 36. Peter J. Katzenstein, Small States in World Markets (Ithaca 1985). 37. Zaki Ergas, "In Search of Development in Africa," in Ergas (ed.), The African Stale in Transition (London 1987), 295-329.

CONCLUSION

18 A Coda on Afrocentricity C. S. Whitaker

The title of this volume signals that the authors have consciously adopted a certain angle of perception that stands opposed to prevailing ideas about human change in Africa. The rejected ideas are encountered under many labels and auspices. Their common feature is the supposition that the essential impetus to important change is external; the corollary notion is that the range of reactions available to Africans is to succumb, evade, or obstruct the process. In this context, transformation signifies the autonomous capacity of African social actors to generate significant change, while resiliency connotes the ability of some indigenous social arrangements to withstand or absorb the process. It is not the point that such transformation and resiliency are unlimited or unconditional, or even necessarily good, but rather that they exist to a degree absolutely necessary to comprehend the full scope of actualities and possibilities inherent in the African experience of change. So stated, these views might well be judged trite, were they not historically and logically inconsistent with the thrust of powerful scholastic traditions. As things stand, the thematic treatment of change contained in this body of essays points to conceptual alternatives in the study of Africa that have become as intellectually imperative as they are presently lacking. This lack of conceptual acuity is not to be construed as a mere lapse or omission. On the contrary, professional scholars of change in Africa have typically experienced great difficulty in rising above stereotyped accounts of their subject because of, not in spite of, their broader intellectual commitments. W h e t h e r the basis of these c o m m i t m e n t s is putatively scientific or unabashedly ideological matters little from this standpoint if it entails a certain conceptual method. Thus, any explanatory or evaluative scheme that places an idealized model of society at the pinnacle of a descending scale of human capacities and then conceives deviations from the model as evidence of defective or prenascent conditions can only yield mechanistic theories of change, along with puerile images of the society undergoing the experience. Yet, the very terminologies of virtually all the leading "theories" or The opening paragraphs of this chapter were originally published as Whitaker's foreword to Pearl T. Robinson and Elliott P. Skinner (eds.), Transformation and Resiliency in Africa (Washington 1983). Reprinted by permission of the author and Howard University Press.

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"theoretical frameworks" for the study of change in Africa reveal their application of this arbitrary conceptual procedure. Development/underdevelopment; modern/premodern (or traditional); Western/non-Western; metropolitan/satellite; dominance/dependency are examples. Equally objectionable is the employment of such terms as "transitional" and "half-made" to those societies that imperfectly realize the model. In every case, the result is to reduce important African social realities to a matter of "theirs" versus "ours." Where once these tendencies might have been acceptable as merely heuristic devices (that is, innocent of real conditions), the professional scholar's increased access in recent years to "the field" has made that claim seem increasingly thin. The situation now is that we must not only critically question what researchers do empirically in the field but also what conceptually they take to it. In this vein, it is clear that neither sympathy for the "plight" of Africa nor intimations of foreign culpability (or solidarity) provide any immunity from misleading conceptualization; indeed, the suspicion that these orientations are part of the problem appears well placed. Since the continuing impact of "development" and "dependency" concepts is particularly relevant here, we will therefore do well to pay heed to some significant ramifications of these two schools of analysis. Briefly, the development school holds to the notion that societies go through stages and at any given time can be compared or classified, hierarchically, on the basis of specific indices. This mode of analysis assumes the existence of a single universal norm or standard according to which societies can be ranked. By the tenets of the dependency school, different classes of societies are linked structurally in ways that prevent their being transformed generically. In its most strident form, the theory accords international power relationships controlled by the dominant, developed forces at the center of the global economy unmitigated capacity to foredoom the subordinate, underdeveloped societies of the periphery to indefinite dependence on the West. These two schools of analysis account for a preponderance of the scholarship on postcolonial Africa; yet, both treat the African existential reality as residual data. Despite considerable differences, "development" and "dependency" theories are similarly problematic for African studies. They share the basic quality of being concerned primarily with explaining the fate of Western institutions, values and power in the African context. But once we recognize that the thing to be explained shapes the explanation, then we understand that this kind of research is by definition Eurocentric. The essays in this volume are examples of work that tries to overcome the deterministic assumptions of Eurocentric scholarship and epistemological fallacies inherent in "development" and "dependency" theories. Here, the African experience is the thing to be explained. The authors have collected a body of materials and rendered them from a point of view that takes as primary the reality of the African experience with change—not the fate of change as it originates in or is controlled by another culture. In the process, they have

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revealed the resiliency of African societies and institutions to an extent seldom reflected in the voluminous Western literature on postcolonial Africa. Their findings in this regard point to a broad spectrum of behavioral response to the challenge of Western penetration: Africans develop strategies, they tailor and husband resources, they incorporate, they exercise initiatives and judgment, they equivocate. The studies further document a range of possible outcomes sufficiently extensive to belie any assumptions of strict determinism or unilinear change: Africans selectively innovate and repudiate, they revitalize, they reinterpret and syncretize, they reaffirm established values, they form new solidarities, they generate tertiary change. The data presented in this collection should therefore help refute the notion that societies require consensus for viability. In fact, many communities in contemporary Africa manage dissension without formulating a consensus. From the insights garnered here, we can better appreciate the need for social and cultural analysts to learn more about the dynamics of dissension. An Afrocentric frame of reference takes us far beyond the elimination of Western conceptual bias. These essays concretely demonstrate that there are numerous theoretical and practical lessons to be learned from such a radical revision of focus. +

»

*

The above paragraphs, written as a foreword to a volume of essays published in 1983 under the editorship of Professors Pearl Robinson and Elliot Skinner, apply equally to the present collection of essays. Indeed, an appropriate coda to this book concerns the critical issue of Afrocentricity. Properly invoked, Afrocentricity is an analytical imperative, not a sentimental gesture. Its importance derives from fundamental issues of comprehension in the wake of powerful intellectual legacies that tend to discount the capacity of African cultures and societies to act rationally and constructively in the face of historic realities. It suggests, importantly, that these realities, not Africans, are the source of problematic conditions. In retrospect, a common element of the essays in the present collection is reluctance to impose on African experience categories of analysis derived primarily from the study of Western conditions, or to do so reflexively. The alternative to this reticence is to assume that such categories are universally cogent and therefore may be applied to Africa (or elsewhere) without risk of distorting important phenomena. In the essays presented here, however, it has been axiomatic that assumptions of this kind should be an aspect of the investigation to be pursued, as opposed to constituting the standard by which the validity of the investigation should be assessed. As the essays in this book have shown, the dynamics of African politics, like politics elsewhere, frequently display susceptibilities of various kinds, including ideological incoherence, lapse of institutional integrity, contradic-

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tion, moral turpitude, and dysfunctionality. The point to be raised is whether problematic qualities and positive attributes are to be measured essentially in terms of deficiency or adequacy with respect to an abstract value or standard procedure, or are basically to be construed as involving matters of value and action that have significance and meaning, positive or negative, in their own terms and in their specific setting. In still another formulation, the question is whether the proper subjects of history are questions of outcome only or are also matters of process and context. These issues imply a distinction that has come to be associated, in the discipline of anthropology, with the contrast, eloquently f o r m u l a t e d by Clifford Geertz, between interpretation and explanation. To quote his nowfamous assertion: B e l i e v i n g , with M a x Weber, that man is an animal suspended in w e b s of significance he himself has spun, I take culture to be those webs, and the analysis of it to be therefore not an experimental science in search of law but an interpretive o n e in search of meaning. 1

That Geertz's dictum has struck responsive chords far beyond his own discipline suggests the wider saliency of maintaining conceptual due respect and analytical alertness in relation to the content of experiences that may deviate from established patterns, accepted criteria, and familiar precepts. The argument here is that to do justice to such material, a tension between working categories of analysis and the experience to be discussed should be welcomed—and certainly not discouraged. In many circumstances of comprehension, interior immersion in the subject is a more fruitful stance than deductive exegesis of heuristic schemes. Sklar's essays here afford many examples. Thus, in one it was shown that political m o v e m e n t s based on ethnic identities both stimulated and supported transethnic movements for national independence. Another demonstrated that, contrary to conventional wisdom, the crisis of Nigeria's First Republic was at least in part the consequence of a principled disagreement between true federalists and regional separatists over the nature of the Nigerian union. This interpretation, based on empirical analysis in depth, is contrary to findings to the effect that atavistic tribalism and rampant corruption were primarily responsible. Similarly, another essay contains the caveat that ideological bias against pan-African goals and values is inherent in the functionalist theory of national integration, which is in turn a cornerstone of the paradigm of modernization. In another discussion, the autonomy and integrity of the African bourgeoisie is argued, contrary to the pejorative conceptions of dependency theorists. In general, in Sklar's essays, particularly, the African countries are found to be selfdirected workshops for the construction of democratic forms of government. In this context, Zimbabwe's fusion of Marxism-Leninism with constitutionally

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limited government based on judicial independence and review, is observed to be a pathbreaking contribution to Marxist-Leninist practice. The idea of developmental democracy is an alternative to the ethnocentric ( W e s t e r n - d e r i v e d ) thesis of e c o n o m i c and social p r e c o n d i t i o n s f o r democracy, which suggests that democratic practice is far less relevant to d e v e l o p m e n t t h a n it c a n be. S t u d y of the p r a c t i c e of d e v e l o p m e n t a l democracy in Africa is a source of theoretical enrichment. Much the same can be said of a reexamination in the African, context of the syncretistic challenges of capitalist and socialist precepts. Every one of the essays dealing with Northern Nigeria and related problems of African development serve to demonstrate both the resiliency and transformative capacity of premodern, non-Western culture. They also argue for the need, analytically, to separate the dynamics of change, viewed from the inside of society, from the metaphysics of unilinear and retrospectively conceived patterns of change, projected parochially from without. Two different accounts of m a j o r political transitions in Nigeria, one focusing on the problematic character of constitutional experimentalism and the other on the peculiar structure of the Nigerian state, also indicate the degree to which historical and perceptual factors may complicate and sometimes undermine the transfer to Africa of canons derived from Western experience. Another essay dealing with theoretical conceptualizations of the state extends these findings to the realm of developmental policy, particularly with regard to the thinking of the World Bank. These essays provide a perspective that anticipates many of the frustrations and disappointments that development policymakers and agencies have encountered with respect to planned schemes of induced change. Like all precepts, Afrocentricity is also liable to promote distortion and misuse if it is uncritically involved. In the course of trying to render sensitively and accurately the data of African politics, obscurantism and exoticism are no less dangers than in other scholarly arenas. A sound corollary of authenticity is that novelty of treatment is not an end in itself. The frequent departures from standard disciplinary treatment of aspects of African politics displayed in the essays of this book may or may not pass muster in terms of either correctness or authenticity. They are not meant to be final words in any sense on any of the subjects addressed. They may be taken, however, as following in a tradition of critical scholarship which, by reinforcing enthusiasm for close scrutiny, explorative study, respect for the subject, and recognition of the dignity of people under analysis may indirectly participate in the investigations of other scholars in future. NOTE 1. Clifford Geertz, The Interpretation Geertz ( N e w York 1973), 5.

of Cultures:

Selected

Essays

by

Clifford

Index

Aba Convention of 1957, 48 academic freedom, 299 Accelerated Development in Sub-Saharan Africa. See Berg Report accountability, norm of, 307 A c t i o n G r o u p , C h a p t e r 6; and C o k e r C o m m i s s i o n , 1 2 6 - 1 2 7 ; consolidation as party, 26-27, 29, 113-115; consolidation in U P G A , 1 3 7 - 1 4 3 ; as federal opposition, 8 0 - 8 2 , 117-120; finance, 54, 57; leadership, 36-40, 116; natior.alism/pantribalism, 14-16, 18, 23, 156-157; organization, 47, 50; participation, 4 3 - 4 4 ; policies, 5 9 - 6 3 ; traditionalism, 5 4 - 5 5 , 57; treason trial, 1 2 8 - 1 3 7 ; W e s t e r n R e g i o n a l c r i s i s , 72, 83-84, 120-128, 231 Adam, Heribert, 257, 263n36 Adamolekun, Ladipo, 294 Adegbenro, Alhaji D. S., 29, 123, 127-129, 150n3 Adelabu, Alhaji Adegoke, 44 Ademola, Adetokunboh, 139 Aderemi, Adesoji II, 120, 123, 139 African Continental Bank, 28, 56 African National Congress (ANC), 317,319 Africana Scholarship, 4 Afrocentricity, 8-10, 357-359, 361 AG. See Action Group Aga Kahn Foundation, 321 Aga Kahn, Sadruddin, 321 Aguiyi-Ironsi, Major-General, 158-159, 235 Ake, Claude, 287 Akintola, Samuel Ladoke, 27, 29, 72, 81-85, 116-124, 126-132,138-140, 144-146 Algeria, 215, 218, 220, 256, 258, 301, 314 alkali, 94, 95 Almond, Gabriel, 106nl, 288 Amin, Idi, 212 Amin, Samir, 215

ANC. See African National Congress Angola: Marxism-Leninism in, 253, 275, 315; new e c o n o m i c s t r a t e g i e s in, 3 2 2 , 3 2 6 , 328n6; role of socialism, 210,220 apartheid, 257, 298, 316-317, 319 Apter, David, 172, 337 arap Moi, Daniel, 327 Armed Forces Ruling Council (Nigeria), 318 Arusha Declaration of 1967, 253 ascribed v. achieved status, 39-42 Askianist Movement, 53 attajirai, 41, 46 Awa, Eme 0 . , 74n28, 75n40, 86n5 Awolowo, O b a f e m i , 50, 72; Action Group developments 1946-1960, 113-115; Coker Commission, 125-127; confrontation over party leadership, 120-124, 144; early life, 110; impact on Action Group philosophy, 78-85, 117-119; Nigerian Youth Movement, 111-112; political role 1 9 6 2 - 1 9 6 7 , 146, 1 5 6 - 1 5 7 ; S e c o n d Republic, 2 4 2 - 2 4 3 , 246n5; treason trial, 109, 128-137 Azanian P e o p l e ' s Organization ( A Z A P O ) , 317,319 Azikiwe, Nnamdi: business interests, 56; election c r i s i s of 1 9 6 4 - 1 9 6 5 , 1 4 1 - 1 4 3 , 146-147, 157; formation of NCNC, 24-28, 48-49; Ibo intelligentsia, 57; nationalism, 69, 77, 111-115, 156, 314; non-alignment, 63; relations with Action Group, 119 Babangida, Ibrahim, 318 bafada, 40-41 Balewa, Alhaji Abubaker Tafawa: early years/slave origins, 41, 93-94, 106n9; and election crisis of 1 9 6 4 - 1 9 6 5 , 1 4 6 , 1 5 7 , 1 7 8 ; political beginnings/NPC, 33, 96-97, 185; P r i m e M i n i s t e r of F e d e r a t i o n , 5 1 , 9 0 ,

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364

INDEX

1 1 4 - 1 1 5 , 154; traditional authority, 100, 103-105 Banda, Kamuzu, 327 Barkan, Joel D., 214 Bauchi Discussion Circle, 30 Bauchi Emirate, 30, 53, 9 3 - 9 4 , 96, 1 0 0 , 1 0 6 n 9 Bello, Alhaji Ahmadu, 50, 84, 178, 185; early years, 9 1 - 9 3 ; and the N P C , 33, 9 6 - 1 0 1 , 105, 108n49; and Western Regional crisis, 113,115, 119-120, 1 4 1 - 1 4 3 Bender, Gerald J., 3 2 6 - 3 2 7 Benin, 315, 322, 326 Benin City, 16-19, 47, 55, 163 Berg Report, 3 4 1 - 3 4 2 Biafra, 165 Bida Emirate, 42 Blyden, Edward Wilmot, 250 Bongo, Omar, 327 Bornu Emirate, 185, 187, 189, 239 Bornu Youth Movement, 53, 185, 239 Botswana, 213, 250 British c o l o n i a l p o l i c y in N i g e r i a : C r o w n Colony government, 162; education in, 30; governmental options, 2 0 - 2 1 , 98, 229, 268; indirect rule/native administrations (Lord Lugard), 9 0 - 9 1 , 9 7 - 9 8 , 1 1 0 - 1 1 1 , 179, 182-183 B r i t i s h M i n o r i t i e s C o m m i s s i o n R e p o r t of 1958, 229 Buhari, Muhammed, 265, 269, 2 7 1 - 2 7 2 Burkina Faso (Upper Volta), 251, 258, 289, 315 Cabrai, Amilcar, 256, 316, 323 Cameroun Republic, 28 Cape Verde, 220 capitalism: capitalist movement, 319-320; and e c o n o m i c s t a t i s m , 3 2 0 - 3 2 1 ; e v i d e n c e in Africa, 5, 3 2 1 - 3 2 3 c e n s u s c o n f l i c t in N i g e r i a , 6 9 , 8 3 - 8 4 , 139-140, 1 5 7 , 1 6 6 n 6 Central African Republic, 251 change: and continuity: institutional v. structural aspects, 184-186, institutional v. norm a t i v e a s p e c t s , 1 8 6 - 1 8 7 , n o r m a t i v e v. structural and institutional aspects, 1 8 7 - 1 8 8 ; s p h e r e s o f : e c o n o m y v. polity, 188, education v. polity, 189 Chiluba, Frederick, 256 Christian Council of Zambia, 256 Civil Service, reform in Africa, 343, 346 class analysis: bourgeoisie and socialism, 2 1 4 - 2 1 5 , 3 0 1 ; b u r e a u c r a t i c or s t a t e

bourgeoisie, 2 1 5 - 2 1 6 ; class action, 2 1 7 - 2 1 9 ; consolidation, 2 1 0 - 2 1 3 ; criteria, 206; dominant class, 209, 214, 218; formation, 206, 2 1 0 , 2 1 2 , 3 0 0 ; i d e n t i f i c a t i o n , 2 1 3 - 2 1 4 ; "managerial bourgeoisie," 10n4, 215-217, 223n47, 300; nomenclature, 2 1 5 - 2 1 7 ; popular class, 301; rising class, 13-19, 2 2 n n l 0 and 11, 40, 44, 207, 3 5 1 n l 7 ; ruling class, 200; and the State, 3 0 0 - 3 0 3 ; transnational class formation, 2 1 9 - 2 2 1 . See also class formation in Nigeria class formation in Nigeria: analysis, 198-200; and ethnic interests, 19; and politics, 80, 207; rising class, 1 3 - 1 9 , 2 2 n l 0 , 40, 4 4 , 207; and traditional authorities, 20 C o k e r C o m m i s s i o n of I n q u i r y , 2 9 , 8 6 n 7 , 125-127 Coleman, James S., 21n2, 38, 203n3, 299 College Old Boys' Association, 2 9 - 3 1 colonial legacy in Africa: constitutional culture, 292; models of the state, 3 3 4 - 3 3 8 Committee of National Rebirth, 77 c o m m u n a l p a r t i s a n s h i p in N i g e r i a , 1 6 - 2 0 , 21n8, 2 2 n l 0 , 43 Conference on the Enabling Environment for Private Sector Contribution to Development (Nairobi 1986), 3 2 1 - 3 2 2 C o n g r e s s of S o u t h A f r i c a n T r a d e U n i o n s (COSATU), 319 Congo People's Republic, 210, 220, 253, 275, 3 1 4 , 3 1 5 , 3 2 2 , 326, 327 constitutional development (Nigeria), 1 4 6 - 1 4 7 ; of 1 9 4 6 , 1 1 2 ; 1 9 5 0 I b a d a n Conference, 99; of 1951, 25, 32, 113; 1952 provisions governing elections, 96; conference of 1953, 26, 27; of 1954, 113; of 1957 (the Prime Minister), 4 8 - 4 9 ; 1959 regional powers, 246n2; 1963 Republic Constitution, 69, 2 4 5 n l ; 2nd R e p u b l i c , 2 1 3 , 229, 2 3 7 , 240, 246n5, 279 Côte d'Ivoire, 222n25, 223n48, 314, 326, 349, 352n25 "cultural continuity," 5, 6. See also Chapter 8 "cultural nationalism," 7 8 - 7 9 Dahl, Robert A., 288 Dan Fodio, Shehu U s m a n , 9 0 - 9 1 , 95, 100, 179, 186 democracy: in Africa, Chapter 12; consociational, 2 5 6 - 2 5 7 ; developmental, 2 5 9 - 2 6 0 , 295, 299, 3 0 3 - 3 0 8 ; guided, 2 5 2 - 2 5 3 ; liberal (electoral), 2 5 0 - 2 5 2 , 2 8 9 - 2 9 1 , Table 15.1; participatory, 2 5 4 - 2 5 6 ; and rule

INDEX

of law, 291-295; social, 253-254 development corporations (in Nigeria), 56, 79, 126,188 development theories, Chapter 15; capacity building, 343; class formation and development, 300-302; dependency, 358; developmental dictatorship, 249, 259, 279; economic theories, 287; macroeconomic approach, 337; market-based, 3 4 1 - 3 4 5 ; pluralism, 307; political, 287-288, 303-308; praetorianism, 339-340; private sector, 323; statist view, 338, 3 4 0 - 3 4 1 , 346, 348. See also structural adjustment "developmental democracy," 259-260, Chapter 15, 295, 299, 303-308 Dikko, R . A . B . , 3 1 Diouf, Abdou, 251 Dokotri, Patrick, 35, 133,135-136 dos Santos, José Eduardo, 328n6 Du Bois, W. E. B., 260 Dumbutshena, Enoch, 276-277, 279 Dumont, René, 215 Duverger, Maurice, 21n8, 43 dysrhythmic concepts of change, 176-177, 183,191n2 Eastern Outlook (Nigeria), 55 Eastern Region (Nigeria): class structure, 2 2 n l l , 67; C-O-R statehood, 69, 75n36; culture, 23-24; politics, 15, 26, 27-28, 44, 47, 140-143, 145; religion, 38; separatism, 1 5 3 - 1 5 4 , 160, 1 6 3 - 1 6 4 ; traditionalism, 54-55, 75n40,161 "economic conditionally," 341 economic pluralism, 295-299, 307, 326 economic statism, 5, 8 - 9 , 302-303, 306, 320 Edo: Edo National Union, 58; and midwestern p o l i t i c s , 122, 1 4 5 ; Otu Edo ( B e n i n Community), 17, 19, 47 Egbe Omo Oduduwa ( S o c i e t y of the Descendants of Oduduwa), 14-16, 25, 78, 1 1 2 - 1 1 3 , 1 1 6 - 1 1 7 , 139. See also p a n Yoruba, Society of Descendants of Olofin Egbe Oyo Parapo (Oyo People's Party), 47 Egypt, 289 Elazar, Daniel, 294-295 elections (Nigeria): 1959, 13, Tables 11.1, 11.3, 11.4; 1964, 84-86, 141-142, Table 6.1; 1965 "little election," 143, 150n3; 1979, 239-240, Tables 11.2, 11.3, 11.4, 11.5; 1983, 266; results 1951-1964, Table 3.8 E m e r g e n c y P o w e r s Act ( Z i m b a b w e ) , 277-278, 281

365

emir, e m i r a t e , 30, 38, 4 0 - 4 2 , 4 5 - 4 6 , 55, 58-59, 91, 179-181, 207; northern leadership 91-95; and NPC, 47, 61, 96, 184-185; relation to Northern Regional Government, 98-100, 111, 182-184, 185-187. See also native administrations Enahoro, Anthony, 128-135, 160 Enugu, 22nl0, 44 Eritrea, 314 Esman, Milton, 295 Ethiopia, 299, 315, 326 Eyadema, Gnassingbe, 327 Fadahunsi, J. O., 139 fadawa. See bafada federalism (in Nigeria), 26, 29, 251, 252, 294-295; creation of new states, 234, 242; strains on federal system, 146 federalism (in third world countries), 294-295 Fanon, Frantz, 200, 202, 215 FEDECO (The Federal Electoral Commission), 141, 243, 246nn5 and 6 Financial Gazette (Zimbabwe), 281 Freedom House, 289, 296-297 From Crisis to Sustainable Growth (World Bank), 333, 343-346, 348-350 Gabon, 326 Gambia, The, 250-251, 289, 292 Gandhi, Indira, 292, 302 gardawa, 46 Geertz, Clifford, 360 Gemeinschaft and Gesellschaft, 43, 68, 170, 335 Ghana, 213, 220; failure of democracy, 251, 258; involvement in Nigerian affairs, 118, 128,130-136,163; state building, 351nl2 GNPP. See Great Nigerian People's Party Gordon, Sean, 305 Gowon, Yakubu, 1 5 9 - 1 6 0 , 1 6 2 , 2 1 3 , 2 3 5 - 2 3 6 Great Nigerian People's Party (GNPP), 241-243 Gregor, A. James, 249, 259, 279 "growth with equity," 340, 345 Guinea, 210, 220, 258, 314 Guinea-Bissau, 210, 220, 253, 256, 316, 323 Habe, 34, 36, 41, 46, 53, 59, 181, 185 Habe-Fulani People's Party, 53 Haile-Mariam, Mengistu, 327 Harrington, James, 155 Hausa-Fulani, 23, 30, 34, 36, 45-47, 53, 58, 9 0 - 9 2 , 9 4 , 9 9 - 1 0 0 , 1 0 6 n 9 , 110, 161, 179-183,230,240

366

INDEX

Hawkins, A. M., 321 Heilbroner, Robert, 320 Herald (Zimbabwe), 281 Hirschman, Albert, 288, 304 Hobbes, Thomas, 267, 335 Horn of Africa, 314 Houphouët-Boigny, Félix, 327 Huntington, Samuel P., 285, 288, 304 Hyden, Goran, 3 2 1 - 3 2 2 I b a d a n , 14, 1 7 - 2 1 , 2 2 n l l , 26, 44, 58, 116-117, 123-124 Ibadan Conference of 1950, 99 Ibadan People's Party, 18 Ibibio State Union, 58 Ibo Federal Union (Ibo State Union), 57 Ibo people, 24, 27, 39, 44, 5 4 - 5 5 , 57, 67, 79, 140-141, 145-146, 154, 157-160, 164-165, 199, 230, 240 Ibocracy, 140 Ife, 120, 129 Ijebu people, 18, 44, 117 ijma, 107n37 I k o k u , S. G . , 1 2 0 , 1 2 2 , 1 2 7 , 1 3 0 - 1 3 1 , 134-135 Ilorin Araromi Congress, 52 Ilorin Talaka Parapo, 53 Imam, Alhaji Ibrahim, 1 3 3 - 1 3 6 Independence G o v e r n m e n t Coalition (1960, Nigeria), 154 informal sector of the economy, 306, 347 I n t e r n a t i o n a l C o n f e d e r a t i o n of F r e e T r a d e Unions, 298 International Monetary Fund (IMF), 328n6 ira, 91 Islam, role in Nigeria: Islamic revivalism and statehood, 272, 295; legal codes in North, 102, 107n37, 139, 179, 181; in Northern Region, 38, 53, 5 8 - 5 9 , 9 2 - 9 5 , 105, 113, 1 4 4 - 1 4 5 , 1 8 6 - 1 8 8 , 230; political party d e v e l o p m e n t , 3 8 - 3 9 , 107n37; in Western Region, 24, 38, 58, 145 Ivory Coast. See Côte d'Ivoire Jackson, Robert H., 285 Jam'iyyar Mutanen Arewa (Northern People's Congress), 31 jihad, 46, 90, 179, 186, 272 Jos, 3 2 , 1 1 9 , 1 3 1 judicial independence, 2 9 1 - 2 9 3 Judicial S e r v i c e C o m m i s s i o n ( N i g e r i a ) , 69 (Zimbabwe), 279

Kaduna, 3 1 , 5 0 , 153, 186, 244 Kaduna College, 29-30, 95 Kano, 3 1 - 3 2 , 4 6 - 4 7 , 51, 53, 8 7 n l 5 , 91, 100, 154, 182, 187, 244, 246n5, 272 Kano, Mallam Aminu, 32, 42, 51, 73n7, 90, 9 4 - 9 5 , 9 7 , 1 0 1 - 1 0 3 , 1 0 5 , 1 0 7 n 3 7 , 1 6 0 , 242, 246n6 Kasfir, Nelson, 3 3 6 - 3 3 7 Kashim, Shettima, 185 Katanga Rebellion, 141, 202 Katsina T e a c h e r s ' Training College, 29, 9 2 - 9 3 , 100 Kaunda, Kenneth, 208, 220, 2 5 5 - 2 5 6 Kedourie, Elie, 286 Kenya; capitalism, 314, 325-326; class formation, 208, 216, 218; one-party state, 252, 282; pluralism 296 Kenyatta, Jomo, 252, 314 Key, V. O., 348 Keynesian economics, 337, 3 4 0 - 3 4 1 Khadiriyya turuq, 59 Kibaki, Mwai, 2 5 2 - 2 5 3 Kocstler, Arthur, 302 labor. See trade unionism Labour Party, 49, 95, 105 L a g o s , 1 4 - 1 5 , 2 4 - 2 6 , 77, 84, 116, 127, 137-143,267 Lagos Plan of Action, 3 4 0 - 3 4 2 L a n c a s t e r H o u s e C o n f e r e n c e of 1 9 7 9 (Zimbabwe), 279 La Palombara, Joseph, 176-177 "law of the balance," 155 legitimation, 3 4 4 - 3 4 7 Levy, Marion J., Jr., 172-173 Lewis, W. Arthur, 203n2, 339 Leys, Colin, 216 Libya, 253 Lijphart, Arcnd, 256-257, 289, 295 Lindblom, Charles E„ 288 Linton, Ralph, 39 Lofchie, Michael F„ 212, 218 Lugard, Lord. See British colonial policy in Nigeria ma 'aikala, 45 Mabolaje, 18-19, 44, 72 Macauley, Herbert, 2 4 - 2 5 , 72 Machel, Samora, 327 Macintosh, John P., 124 Macpherson, C. B., 259 Maikwaru, Mallam Abba, 32 Maja, Akinola, 1 2 0 - 1 2 1 , 1 2 6 , 1 3 3 , 139

INDEX

Maja, Oladipo, 133-136 Majckodunmi, M. A., 124, 139 Malan, D. F„ 314 Malawi, 282, 326 mallam, 94, 187 "managerial bourgeoisie," 10n4, 2 1 5 - 2 1 7 , 223n47 Markakis, John, 207-208 marketing boards (Nigeria), 56, 79, 81, 125-126,188, 231 Markovitz, Irving Leonard, 209 Marx, Karl, 95, 323-324. See also MarxismLeninism Marxism-Leninism: A f r i c a n g o v e r n m e n t s , 256, 2 7 5 - 2 7 6 , 2 9 6 - 2 9 7 , 315-317, 326-327; class analysis, 198, 205-206, 210, 215; class and state, 302-303, 338; developmental dictatorship, 250, 285; divided power, 2 8 0 - 2 8 3 , 2 9 2 - 2 9 3 ; historicist approach, 201; in Nigerian politics, 85, 106nl; and subsidiarity, 298-299 Mauritius, 213, 2 5 1 , 2 9 1 , 2 9 3 Middle Belt Region (Nigeria), 35-36, 52, 58, 75n36, 133, 161-162, 164 Middle Belt People's Party, 35-36 Middle Zone League (MZL), 35 Midwestern Region (Nigeria): coup of 1966 and aftermath, 160; establishment as region, 69, 7 5 n 3 6 , 138; p e o p l e s , 123; politics, 83-85, 139-140, 145-146, 162 M i l i t a r y G o v e r n m e n t of 1 9 6 6 ( N i g e r i a ) , 235-236; civil war of 1967-1970, 164-165, 218; Constitutional Conference, 162; coup d'etat, 1 5 3 - 1 5 4 , 1 5 7 - 1 5 8 , 290; July 29 mutiny, 159; May 24 unification decree, 159-160; Supreme Military Council, 163; violence against Ibos, 160 Military Government of 1983 (Nigeria), 265; e c o n o m i c challenges, 2 6 9 - 2 7 1 ; Islamic revivalism, 272; transition to civilian rule, 318 Mineworkers' Union of Zambia, 255 Minister of Home Affairs v. Bickle (Zimbabwe), 277 Modernization theories: dichotomous framework, 1 7 2 - 1 7 4 ; d i s p l a c e m e n t / r e j e c t i o n , 170; d y s r h y t h m i c c o n c e p t s , 177, 183, 190-191n2; ethnocentric, 9; curhythmic, 170-176, 342; functionalism, 4 - 5 ; pluralism 4,178; prcmodern cultures, 5 Moore, Wilbcrt E„ 176-177 Mosca, Gactano, 80 Mozambique, 210, 220, 253, 275, 315, 322, 326-327

367

Mubako, Dr. Simbi, 279-280 Mugabe, Robert, 276-277, 279, 282 Muhammed, Murtala, 213, 229, 236 Musa, Balarabe, 244 Muslim. See Islam Muzorewa, Abel, 280 MZL. See Middle Zone League N A C T U . See N a t i o n a l C o u n c i l of T r a d e Unions Nairobi Conference 1986. See Conference on the E n a b l i n g E n v i r o n m e n t f o r P r i v a t e Sector Contribution to Development National Bank of Nigeria Limited, 56, 125 National C o n g r e s s of British West A f r i c a (Accra, 1920), 24 National Convention of Nigerian Citizens ( N C N C , originally National Council of Nigeria and the Cameroons), 13-15, 23, 69, 82-83, 154; finance, 54; leadership, 36-40; n a t i o n a l i s t t h e o r i e s , 27, 156, 160; and NEPU, 31, 90; origins, 24-26, 77, 111-115; participation, 42, 44, 58, 67, 117; party organization and reform, 28-29, 47, 49, 52; politics, 59-63; traditionalism, 17, 54; and W e s t e r n R e g i o n c r i s i s , 8 3 - 8 5 , 124, 128-129, 131, 137-142, 145-146; Youth Association, 52, 74nl6, 75n32 National Council of Trade Unions (NACTU), 319 national integration in Africa, 196-200; as nation building, 196; and pan-Africanism 196, 203n4; and tribalism, 198-199 National Muslim League (Nigeria), 58 native administrations (Nigeria), 30, 32, 33, 41—42, 45, 55-56, 90-92, 97, 102, 104, 181, 185-187,189 Native Settlers' Union (Nigeria), 18 NCNC. See National Convention of Nigerian Citizens Nelson, Joan M., 288 nemo/i sarautu, 180-181, 185 NEPU. See Northern Elements' Progressive Union Niger, 260 Niger Delta Congress (Nigeria), 84, 140 Nigeria: central state and development, 349; commonwealth relations, 61; democracy, 251, 290-291, 318; independence, 14, 23, 154; nation building, 155-157; ombudsmen, 294; rule of law, 292. See also British colonial policy; class formation; Eastern Region; elections; federalism; Midwestern

368

INDEX

R e g i o n ; M i l i t a r y G o v e r n m e n t of 1 9 6 6 ; M i l i t a r y G o v e r n m e n t of 1 9 8 3 ; N o r t h e r n Region; political parties; regional structure; Second Republic; traditionalism; tribalism; Western Region Nigerian Citizen, 32 Nigerian C o m m o n e r s ' Liberal Party, 52 Nigerian Enterprises Promotion Decree, 211 Nigerian N a t i o n a l A l l i a n c e ( N N A ) , 8 4 - 8 5 , 140, 142-143, 157 Nigerian National Democratic Party (NNDP), 24, 72, 8 4 - 8 5 , 140, 142-143 Nigerian National Petroleum Corporation, 211 Nigerian Third National D e v e l o p m e n t Plan (1975-1980), 211 Nigerian Union of Students, 25 Nigerian Youth M o v e m e n t , 2 4 - 2 5 , 77, 110-113, 116, 121 Nkrumah, K w a m c , 118, 133, 220, 316, 337, 351nl2 NNA. See Nigerian National Alliance NNDP. See N i g e r i a n N a t i o n a l D e m o c r a t i c Party Northern Elements' Progressive Union (NEPU): A m i n u Kano, 1 0 1 - 1 0 3 , 107n37; leadership, 3 6 - 3 9 , 42, 90; organization, 48, 5 1 - 5 3 , 107n38; origins, 3 1 - 3 2 , 34, 97; participation, 4 5 - 4 6 , 101, 185; relations with N C N C , 23, 4 5 , 6 0 , 114; t r a d i t i o n a l i s m , 187-188; youth wing, 53 N o r t h e r n M i n e w o r k e r s ' U n i o n at J o s , 5 3 , 75n31 Northern P e o p l e ' s C o n g r e s s ( N P C ) , 14, 23; development as a political party, 3 2 - 3 4 , 96; finance, 54, 57; leadership, 39^41; organization, 4 7 - 4 8 , 5 0 - 5 1 , 53, 184-186; origins, 2 9 - 3 2 ; policies, 5 9 - 6 3 ; political dominance, 69, 83; traditionalism, 4 5 - 4 6 , 5 5 , 5 8 - 5 9 , 7 5 - 7 6 n n 3 3 and 41, 184-185; Youth Association, 53 Northern Progressive Front, 36, 84, 103, 140 Northern Region (Nigeria): class, 2 2 n l l ; domi n a n c e , 8 3 - 8 6 , 1 3 9 - 1 4 0 , 1 4 4 - 1 4 5 , 185; e c o n o m i c s , 188; education, 189; election crisis of 1964, 140-142; government, 182; leadership, C h a p t e r 5; politics, 2 9 - 3 5 , 4 4 - 4 6 , 5 0 - 5 2 , 83; slavery, 7 4 n l 9 , 106n9; traditionalism, 29, 4 0 - 4 2 , 5 8 - 5 9 , 178-191 Northern Teachers' Association, 30 Nove, Alec, 324 NPC. See Northern People's Congress NPN (Nigeria), 2 4 0 - 2 4 4 , 267, 270 NPP (Nigeria), 2 4 0 - 2 4 4

nujumu zaman, 5 3 , 1 0 7 n 3 8 Nyerere, Julius, 203n4, 220, 2 5 3 - 2 5 4 , 260, 316-317 Nzcogwu, C. K„ 158, 235 OAU. See Organization of African Unity oba, 15, 7 3 n l 5 , 1 1 1 - 1 1 2 , 1 2 1 , 1 3 9 Obote, Milton, 212 O'Brien, Conor Cruise, 202 Oduduwa, 21n3 Odumegwu-Ojukwu, C., 163 Ogbomosho, 116 Ogboni Fraternity, 16-17, 21n4 Ojike, Mbonu, 99 O k p a r a , M i c h a e l I., 28, 86, 138, 141, 143, 145-146 Okun, Arthur. 325 ombudsman, 280, 293-294, 308 Onabamiro, Sanya D„ 129-131, 137 Onabanjo, V. O., 134 O P E C (Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries), 266, 269 Organization of African Unity, 345 organized labor. See trade unionism Ossowski, Stanislaw, 206, 214 OtuEdo, 17, 19, 47 Owen, Robert, 324 O y o , 15, 16, 4 7 , 78, 1 1 6 - 1 1 7 ; Alafin 15-17, 75n40

of,

p a n - A f r i c a n i s m , 63, 7 6 n 4 2 , 105, 119, 165, 196, 203n4, 2 6 1 , 3 6 0 Pan-Arab Movement, 63 pantribalism in Nigeria, 13-16, 20, 21n3 pan-Yoruba, 1 4 - 1 6 , 1 8 , 4 4 , 1 1 6 Parsons, Talcott, 172, 196-197 Path to Nigerian Freedom, 7 8 , 1 1 0 , 1 1 2 Peemans, J. Ph., 2 1 5 - 2 1 6 p l u r a l i s m , 4, 1 7 8 , 2 0 3 n 2 , 2 8 1 - 2 8 2 , 2 9 3 , 295-299, 307 Political Bureau (Nigeria), 3 1 8 - 3 1 9 "political class," 79-80, 200, 206 political parties in Nigeria: competition and factional support, Tables 3.6, 3.7; composit i o n of l e g i s l a t u r e s , T a b l e 6 . 1 ; e t h n i c groups, 7 5 n 3 2 , Table 3.1; finance, 54, 74n27; in First Republic, Figure 6.1; leadership, 3 6 - 4 2 , Tables 3.1, 3.2, 3.3; membership, 21n8, 2 2 n n l 0 and 11, 4 2 - 4 7 , Tables 3.5, 3.7; o r g a n i z a t i o n , 4 7 - 5 4 , 2 3 1 - 2 3 3 ; p a t r o n a g e , 7 9 - 8 0 ; policies, 5 9 - 6 3 , Table 3.4; and the p r e s s , 5 6 - 5 7 ; and r e l i g i o n , 5 7 - 5 8 , Table 3.3; Second Republic, 237,

369

INDEX

2 3 9 - 2 4 0 , 2 4 1 - 2 4 5 ; and trade

unions,

Senghor, Leopold Sedar, 251, 316

75n31; and t r a d i t i o n a l a u t h o r i t i e s , 5 4 - 5 5 .

Sese Seko, Mobutu, 327

See also A c t i o n G r o u p ; G N P P ; N a t i o n a l

Shagari, Alhaji Shehu, 242-243,

Convention of Nigerian Citizens; Nigerian

265-267, 270-271 Shari'a, 94, 179 S i m m e l , Georg, 198 Sklar, Martin, 3 1 9 - 3 2 0 Smith, M.G., 106n9, 1 7 9 - 1 8 1 Soames, Lord, 2 8 2

National Alliance; Nigerian Democratic Party; Northern Progressive Union; Northern

National Elements' People's

Congress; N P N ; N P P ; P R P ; United Middle Belt C o n g r e s s ; U n i t e d P e o p l e ' s P a r t y ;

246n5,

Port Harcourt, 7 5 n 3 2

s o c i a l i s m in A f r i c a : d e m o c r a t i c , 3 1 5 - 3 1 9 ; developmental, 324; ethical, 3 1 5 - 3 1 6 ; revolutionary, 316; and statism 258 Society of the Descendants of Olofin, 83, 139, 147

Powell, G. B i n g h a m , 2 8 8

Sokoto Emirate, 3 1 - 3 2 , 55, 58, 100, 111, 179,

Pratt, Cranford, 254

182, 185, 187 Somalia, 210, 220, 315, 326 South A f r i c a : Africanist tradition, 260; capitalism, 314, 3 1 6 - 3 1 7 , 342; consociationalism, 257; democratic socialism, 318; federalism, 294; and neighbors, 327; role of trade unions, 2 9 7 - 2 9 8 , 301, 308, 319 Southern C a m e r o o n s Trust Territory, 28 state: capacity of the state, 3 3 3 - 3 3 5 , 343; econ o m i c p r o g r e s s , 324, 3 3 3 - 3 3 4 ; e c o n o m i c stagnation, 8 - 9 ; state building, 2 0 3 n 2 , 3 5 1 n l 2 ; state and society, 334, 342, 3 4 7 State v. Slatter and Others (Zimbabwe), 2 7 6 Stepan, A l f r e d , 298 structural adjustment, 342, 3 4 5 - 3 5 0 structural-functional analysis, 196, 201 subsidiarity, 2 9 8 - 2 9 9 Sudan, 257, 295, 301 Sunday Mail (Zimbabwe), 281 S u p r e m e Military Council (Nigeria), 159, 163-164

United Progressive Grand Alliance; U P N political systems, classification of, 2 8 8 - 2 8 9 "political theory for d e v e l o p m e n t , " 2 8 7 - 2 8 8 , 303-308

privitization, 321 PRP (Nigeria), 2 4 0 - 2 4 4 , 2 4 6 n 6 racial capitalism, 3 1 7 Rafih, Mallam D. A., 31 regional structure in Nigeria: class and regional identity, 2 1 7 ; r e g i o n a l c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s , 2 3 0 - 2 3 1 ; regional p o w e r distribution, 27, 1 5 5 - 1 5 7 , 2 3 0 - 2 3 1 ; regionalism v. nationalism, 85, 8 7 n l 7 ; tribes, 1 6 1 - 1 6 2 . See also Eastern Region, f e d e r a l i s m , Midwestern Region, Northern Region, Western Region Reshen Samarin Sawaba, 5 3 R e v e n u e A l l o c a t i o n Bill of 1 9 8 1 ( N i g e r i a ) , 246n6 Rimi, Abubakar, 2 4 4 "rising class," 1 3 - 1 9 , 2 2 n n l 0 and 11, 39, 44, 207,351nl7 Rosberg, Carl, 285 Rosiji, Chief A y o t u n d e , 1 1 9 - 1 2 0 , 1 2 9 - 1 3 1 , 140 rule of law, 2 9 1 - 2 9 5

Tab 'iunal Haq, 53, 107n38 talakawa,

sarakuna,

32, 34, 4 1 ^ ( 2 , 4 5 , 1 0 1 , 181, 187

Tanzania, 210, 258, 296; bureaucracy, 215;

Sandbrook, Richard, 3 2 4

c l a s s and s o c i e t y , 2 5 3 - 2 5 4 ; n a t i o n h o o d ,

34, 4 5 , 1 0 1 , 1 8 7

Sardauna of Sokoto. See Bello, Alhaji Ahmadu

203n4; ombudsmen, 308; socialism, 282,

satyagraha,

314, 316, 325; university students, 2 0 4 n l 7 ,

102

Schatz, Sayre P., 211, 324, 325, 3 3 0 n 4 8 Scott, Ian, 2 9 3

214 Tarka, J. S „ 3 6 , 1 3 3 , 1 3 6 , 1 6 0 - 1 6 2

S e c o n d R e p u b l i c in N i g e r i a ( 1 9 7 9 - 1 9 8 3 ) : constitution, 2 2 9 , 2 4 6 n 5 , 2 6 9 ; c o r r u p t i o n ,

Taron Masu Zumunta

(Friendly Society), 32

Tempels, Placide, 337

265; economic pressures, 2 6 6 - 2 6 7 ; politics,

Tijaniyya turuq, 58

241-244;

Tiv people (Nigeria), 36, 5 8 , 1 8 5

political

parties,

231-233,

2 4 1 - 2 4 3 ; r e g i o n a l p o w e r , 2 3 0 - 2 3 1 ; state

Togo, 315, 3 2 6

creation, 241; 1979 election, 2 3 9 - 2 4 1 ,

Tonnies, Ferdinand, 43, 170

Tables 11.2,11.3, 11.4; 1983 election, 2 6 6

Tordoff, William, 255

Senegal, 2 5 0 - 2 5 2 , 289, 2 9 1 , 3 1 6 - 3 1 7 , 349

Tourg, S i k o u , 220, 324

370

INDEX

trade unionism, 2 5 5 - 2 5 6 , 2 6 0 , 2 8 2 , 2 9 6 - 2 9 8 ,

1 4 6 , 1 5 7 ; r e l i g i o n , 3 8 , 58; tribes, 1 6 - 2 0 , 3 9 , 4 3 - 4 4 , 55

301, 3 0 5 - 3 0 7 , 3 1 9 traditionalism in Nigeria: and class formation, 16, 20, 2 0 7 ; Eastern

Region,

54-55;

Northern R e g i o n , 5 5 , 1 7 8 - 1 8 1 , 2 0 7 ; and political thought, 112; Western

Williams, Chief Rotimi, 2 9 2 World Bank, 2 7 1 , 3 2 0 - 3 2 2 , 3 2 5 , Chapter 17 World Federation of Trade Unions, 2 9 8

Region,

16-19, 55

Yan Mahaukata,

53

tribalism in Africa, 13, 2 0 2 , 2 9 3 - 2 9 4

Yan Wazifa, 5 8

tribalism in Nigeria, Chapter 2, 68, 154; and

Yoruba people, 1 4 - 1 8 , 2 3 - 2 4 , 36, 39, 4 3 ^ 4 4 ,

n a t i o n a l i t y , 2 1 n 2 ; and p o l i t i c a l p a r t i e s ,

5 7 - 5 8 , 7 3 n l 5 , 78, 1 1 0 - 1 1 3 , 140, 1 4 5 - 1 4 6 ,

Tables 3.1, 3.5; regionalism,

161-164,

1 9 8 - 1 9 9 . See also Edo, Hausa-Fulani, Ibo,

158-159,161,218, 230,240 Young, Crawford, 3 2 2

Ijebu, pantribalism, Yoruba ZaharalHaq, United Middle Belt Congress

53, 1 0 7 n 3 8

Zambia: class formation, 208, 216,

Uganda, 2 1 2 , 2 1 4 , 2 1 8 (UMBC),

2 6 0 , 2 9 6 - 2 9 8 ; participatory

3 5 - 3 6 , 52, 58, 84, 1 4 0

220;

courts, 2 9 2 - 2 9 3 ; organized labor, 2 5 5 - 2 5 6 , democracy,

254-255, 258

United M u s l i m Council (Nigeria), 5 8 United People's Party, 72, 8 3 , 1 2 8 , 1 3 0 , 1 3 8 , 1 4 5

Zambia C o n g r e s s of Trade Unions, 2 5 5 - 2 5 6

United Progressive Grand A l l i a n c e ( U P G A ) ,

Z A N U . See

Zimbabwe African

National

Union

8 4 - 8 6 , 1 4 0 - 1 4 3 , 157, 1 6 0 universities, 2 9 9

Zaria Emirate, 31, 3 4 , 1 8 0 , 187

Uphoff, Norman, 2 9 5

Zaria Friendly Society, 3 0

U P N (Nigeria), 2 4 0 - 2 4 3 , 2 4 6 n 5

Zikists ( M o v e m e n t and National Vanguard),

Upper Volta. See Burkina Faso

25,52, 158,166nl0 Zimbabwe, 2 5 0 - 2 5 1 , 260; independent judiciary, 2 7 6 - 2 8 0 , 2 9 2 , 3 0 7 , 3 6 0 ; M a r x i s m -

Warren, Bill, 3 0 2 - 3 0 4 Weber, Max (Weberian), 170, 1 9 1 n l , 335, West African

Leninism, 2 7 5 - 2 7 6 , 2 8 2 - 2 8 3 , 299, 3 1 5 , 326; o m b u s d m e n , 2 9 3 - 2 9 4 ; peasants, 2 9 6 , 3 0 1 ;

351nl2

pluralism, 2 8 1 - 2 8 2 , 293; socialism, 3 1 4

Pilot (Nigeria), 24, 56, 111

Western R e g i o n (Nigeria): Crisis of 1962, 83-85,114-118,

1 2 0 - 1 3 2 , 138,

education,

government,

39;

150n3; 27,

55,

1 1 2 - 1 1 3 ; politics, 1 4 - 1 6 , 2 3 - 2 9 , 47, 144,

Z i m b a b w e African National Union ( Z A N U ) , 278, 2 8 1 Z i m b a b w e Writers' Union, 281 Zungur, Malam Sa'adu, 30, 95

About the Book and the Authors These essays are the work of two scholars who have been closely associated with African studies and with one another for more than three decades. During this period, each in his own way dissented from formulations associated with modernization and functionalist theories, which were pervasive when they began their studies. In major books, Sklar explored the political implications of social-class formation in Nigeria, while Whitaker demonstrated the reality of cultural continuity in Nigerian political behavior and organization. These themes are carried forward in this book in essays on the independence movement, the postcolonial crises in Nigeria, and the tenacious struggle for democracy and development in African societies. The authors hold that these phenomena are connected challenges rather than sequential processes. Their rejection today of economistic and ethnocentric theories of political change and d e m o c r a c y is consistent with the alternatives they offered to the dominant intellectual paradigms of the 1960s and 1970s, as is the central place they assign to basic conceptions of liberty and justice.

RICHARD L. SKLAR earned his PhD at Princeton University with the assistance of the Ford F o u n d a t i o n ' s Foreign Area F e l l o w s h i p P r o g r a m . Subsequently, he taught political science at the University of Ibadan, the University of Zambia, and the University of Zimbabwe as a visiting Fulbright professor. Currently, he is professor of political science and cochair of the Development Studies Program at the University of California, Los Angeles. He is past president of the African Studies Association. C. S. WHITAKER received his Princeton PhD with the support of the Social Science Research Council of New York. He has taught at U C L A , Princeton, CUNY (Brooklyn College), and Rutgers University, and as visiting professor at Lagos University and visiting Fulbright professor at Bayero University in Nigeria. Currently he is dean of the Division of Social Sciences and Communication and professor of international relations and political science at the University of Southern California. He is a member of The Council on Foreign Relations.

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