This article concerns the problems connected with the Black American reaction to apartheid in South Africa reaction which appears to have been largely ignored by social scientists, opinion poll samplers, opinion leaders, and even the distributors of foundation grants. A discussion such as this one is, perforce, impressionistic. Hopefully, however, it will contribute to the construction of sound hypotheses about the character of the Black American reaction to apartheid.

The reader should perhaps be warned that I do not subscribe to the doctrine of intellectual neutrality. The perspectives from which I write are informed by clearly articulated value postulates or preferences.

The impact of African opposition to the Portuguese Zambezi Development Scheme and in particular to the construction of the Cabora Bassa hydro-electric dam in Mozambique was first felt in Europe in 1968 and reached its climax in 1971. It has influenced the thinking and the decisions of a great many individuals, groups, and organizations in the United States as well. In view of the wide publicity accorded various attempts in the United States and elsewhere to prevent any further support of Portugal's efforts to retain control over its colonies and develop them economically, one can assume that the controversy over Cabora Bassa is familiar to most people interested in African affairs. Nevertheless, more information is needed with respect to the facts and viewpoints surrounding the Cabora Bassa Dam project itself.

According to Portuguese sources, planning for the development of the Zambezi valley began with the First Development Plan in 1953. In March 1957, the Overseas Ministry created the Missao de Fomento e Povoamento do Zambezi (M.F.P.Z.)—or the Zambezi Development Office, an organization to develop and to populate the Zambezi valley. The general plan for this development was presented to the government in 1966, and in November 1967 invitations for tenders to construct the Cabora Bassa Dam were issued. Offers were due in January 1968.

The Third Development Plan for the Portuguese African territories covering the period from 1968 to 1973 provides for investments in Mozambique of about US $730.7 million. The costs for constructing the dam and the complete power scheme at Cabora Bassa are estimated at US $517.5 million. Portugal will absorb US $421 million of this amount and South Africa US $96.5 million. The ultimate production of energy is estimated to be twice that of the Aswan Dam. It will be surpassed in capacity only by the Churchill Falls Dam in Canada and by dams in the USSR at Bratsk and Krasnoyarsk. The Aswan Dam was built at a cost of more than US $1,000 million—a figure considerably higher than the estimate for the Cabora Bassa Dam.

Areas of the world classified as less than developed tend to have a relatively inflexible economic system dominated by an agricultural sector with low levels of productivity, a rudimentary industrial sector plagued by inefficient methods of production utilizing antiquated technologies, a semi-literate population with little chance of bettering itself because of sheer numbers and a rigid social system, a high level of unemployment or underemployment, and a limited infrastructure. All of these characteristics contribute to low real per capita income, difficulties in finding export markets, and an environment of economic stagnation. Modernization, which includes both economic development and social mobilization, is difficult to achieve.

In a rather loose, personal way I would like to address myself to the problems of the extremely tenuous position that African literature holds in the American university, and to a step that has recently been taken towards ameliorating the situation. As much of what I will present is admittedly subjective, I hope to raise questions and precipitate discussion, having no desire to pre-empt debate with an airtight argument.

From late June through early July 1974, well over four hundred FRELIMO operations were reported in Mozambique. These included major sabotage attacks on the important Tete railway line which links Mozambique's port city, Beira, with the Tete District where the Cabora Bassa dam project is located, the dramatic capture and occupation for the first time by frelimo of a central town (Morrumbala), and the opening of a new front on July 1 in the Zambesia Province between the Indian Ocean and Malawi. This latter action has prompted the white farmers of the rich Zambesia agricultural district to appeal to the frelimo nationalists who, in turn, have assured them that “they have nothing to fear from nationalist action., “

The resolve with which the Mozambique Liberation Front conducted military operations in the three months following the April 25 coup d'etat in Portugal was a sign of the absolute determination of the liberation forces to secure the establishment and recognition of a nationalist government in Mozambique. In fact, recognition of such a FRELIMO government has been virtually assured by what is currently the most powerful group in Portuguese politics: the “political” or “coordinating” committee of the Armed Forces Movement. The young officers who make up this committee remained a small and fairly anonymous body until mid-July and the formation of a second Portuguese provisional government headed by “the brain” of the Movement, Colonel Vasco dos Santos Goncalves, who succeeded Adelino da Pal ma Carlos as Prem.

A recent book by Anthony S. Mathews bears the sort of impressive title which will no doubt attract a much wider readership than the limited audience of legal and constitutional law specialists which the author in his preface appoints for the work. Law, Order and Liberty in South Africa (Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1972) will excite the interest of many people both in and outside South Africa who have come to associate law and order in that country not with liberty and freedom but with the very processes and mechanisms of its denial. The reader's hope will be for insight into how law and order in South Africa—up to now an implement of repression and an aid to the securing of privilege for a racial minority—might be employed for the reversal of present conditions. Those less optimistic would be content with an analysis of the place and role of law in a society characterized by racial discrimination. The expectations of most readers will remain unfulfilled.

Only eight years ago Janheinz Jahn stated in Neo-African Literature that the critics of nigritude were all writing in English—not in French. Jahn was referring to writers like Ezekiel Mphahlele, Gerald Moore and Wole Soyinka, whose criticism he regarded as “based on an inadequate translation.” 2 The most important movement in the literary evolution in French-speaking Africa had, according to Jahn, only been criticized out of ignorance and misunderstanding. Today, criticism of Negritude has become a major issue in those French-speaking countries which were among its strongest supporters originally. It should be mentioned, however, that certain French African writers—among them Ferdinand Oyono and Ousmane Sembene—have opposed Negritude since the 1950s.

Prophecy is one of the simplest ways for an historian to destroy his credit and reputation. Having been persuaded to take this risk, I shall partly cover it with one small insurance policy: I shall set forth what seem to me to be the relevant facts, but not be too dogmatic about the conclusions to be drawn from them.

Where will South Africa stand twenty-five years from now? What will have happened during those years? In theory there are, I think, only four possibilities: (i) that the status quo will remain essentially unchanged; (ii) that radical changes, involving or at least leading to the abolition of all racial discrimination, will come about peacefully, by constitutional means; (iii) that the regime will be overthrown by invading foreign forces; and (iv) that it will be overthrown by revolution within the country, with or without foreign support. As there are strong reasons for believing that none of these alternatives is really possible, some factor seems to have been overlooked. Perhaps it will appear as the four alternatives are examined.

In studying African development and the problems facing independent Africa, we are constantly reminded by Western scholars, particularly political scientists, that Africa has dissipated its political capital and has turned away from the democratic institutions it inherited from the West towards dictatorship. Such reminders are often made without reference to the history of Western democracy, the implication being that European states behaved better, and that following the French Revolution complete emancipation of the Europeans was achieved.

In 1960, Wellesley College invited eminent scholars (Africanists!) and diplomats to discuss the question: “Does Africa Exist?” The symposium was organized to resolve “Whether or not Africa really exists as any sort of political, economic, cultural, or other concept.“ The challenge facing the experts was to determine whether Africa constitutes an entity, whether it has a real ethnic, geographical, economic, cultural, or political identity. Fortunately, most of the speakers agreed with the late Ralph Bunche that “There is an Africa seen as a continent, as a physical entity which takes concrete political and economic shape.“ That Africa, Bunche argued, is exploding onto the international political scene with an increasingly militant and demonstrable renaissance in terms of heightened and unified aspirations for true selfdetermination, human rights, rapid economic transformation, and the assertion of a collective dignity and unity for all peoples of African descent.

The issue raised by the Cabora Bassa Dam has figured in the agendas of the principal international conferences, in the world press; it is discussed in public meetings, it provokes popular demonstrations. Big financial interests and reactionary political forces follow anxiously the developments of events doing everything possible to make the project a reality, while the progressive forces try to prevent its realization.

In this context, it is important to analyze the meaning and the implications of this project—in particular to find out which are the reasons determining the different positions on Cabora Bassa.

This ambitious project would provide Mozambique with all the electric power she needs for her development, as well as enabling her to export power to the neighboring countries. It would seem then in the interests of the people of Mozambique that the dam be built. And this is the argument that the forces interested in the project are using to justify their involvement.They argue that the building of the dam will give work to thousands of Mozambicans both in the building and in the resulting industrial complex. That it will irrigate thousands of hectares of land, thus allowing hundreds of thousands of people to benefit from this arable land. That it would attract foreign investments, thus facilitating the development of the country. That it will make the Zambezi navigable up to the Indian Ocean. And that, since independence will come sooner or later, it is advisable to let the dam be built: because an independent Mozambique will be in a much better economic situation with the dam than without it.

On 25 April 1974, we learned from radio broadcasts about the coup d'etat in Portugal by the armed forces which resulted in the ousting of the government of Marcelo Caetano and its replacement by a Junta of National Salvation. This movement, according to its promoters, is intended to provide a solution to the present crisis which the Portuguese regime and society are going through after thirteen years of colonial war.

The coup d'etat which has just taken place cannot be seen in isolation. It is a result of the new awareness of growing sectors of the Portuguese people that the purpose of the colonial war launched by the fascist regime is to suppress the colonized peoples’ aspiration to independence and freedom and is against the desire for well-being and political and social democracy of the Portuguese people themselves.

At this time we hail, in the first place, the Portuguese democratic forces which for many years have been actively and courageously opposing the colonial wars. This growing awareness is closely bound up with the affirmation of the unshakable will of the Mozambjcan people, and of the peoples of Angola, Guinea-Bissau and the Cape Verde islands, to achieve independence and freedom. This will has taken on material form in the armed struggle for national liberation which has been steadily growing and has already reached vital regions of our country. The coincidence between the crisis of the regime in Portugal and the great advances of the national liberation struggle in Mozambique over the past two years is no accident, but additional proof of the impact of our struggle on the situation in Portugal. The determinant factor of the situation in Portugal and the colonies has been and still is the struggle of our peoples. And the fundamental issue upon which the solution of all other problems depends is the independence of the peoples of Mozambique, Angola and Guinea-Bissau and the Cape Verde islands, as well as that of the remaining Portuguese colonies.

Nearly everyone agrees that the protection of free speech is one of the most, perhaps the most, important ingredient in the concept of “democracy,” as that term is conceived in the Western world. It is not the only element within the concept, of course, and it is forced into ceaseless competition with other factors and policies that demand recognition and official protection. Nevertheless, it is possible to predicate a judgment on the degree to which a society is in fact democratic, based on an analysis of the degree to which free speech is there allowed to flourish.

United States policy towards Namibia is the one shining oasis in the veritable desert known as United States policy towards southern Africa—an area of foreign policy where a mirage of official words has tended either to obfuscate United States government actions supporting the minority government or to obscure the real significance of such actions.

I welcome this opportunity to express my views about the situation in Angola, Mozambique, and Guinea-Bissau. I have long been concerned about U.S. policy regarding Portugal and the determined African nations fighting for their independence. Hopefully with the recent change in the Portuguese government a just settlement to this unfortunate situation can be achieved.

For the residents of metropolitan Portugal, April 25 promised the beginning of a new era in Portuguese history. Every aspect of life in Portugal may be reformed if the new government is committed to the development of programs that can reverse the inertia of the past decades. Portugal has been a faithful ally to all members of NATO, and she has loyally contributed to those efforts of our government that have been designated important for the interests of the United States.

Portugal's loyalty and friendship toward the United States clearly deserve continued attention from our government. However, Portugal's maintenance of three colonial territories in Africa has been a serious source of dismay both for her friends and for her antagonists. Unrelenting critics of the Portuguese policy in Africa demand immediate independence and self-determination for the millions of African citizens in those territories.

According to that view, nothing hort of an immediate pullout by Portuguese forces, and a full surrender of all properties to African control, will satisfactorily address the problem of Portugal's occupation of Guinea-Bissau, Mozambique and Angola.

The more moderate view held by the United States and many of Portugal's European neighbors suggests that Portugal must be nudged toward rapprochement with her colonies so that the shift to independence might be managed with a minimum of economic and political disruptions in the African systems.