A new and curious species of public figure emerged on the international scene after the Second World War, gaining in prominence and conspicuousness in the years that followed. His daily experience is often a trying one, marked by recurrent tension between conflicting commitments. Enjoying from bhth the comforts of the advanced industrial world, he seeks to speak onbehalf of the hungry and impoverished. Educated in the best universities, he lives among countrymen who are predominantly illiterate. He is regarded as an impertinent upstart by the diplomats of wealthier and more powerful nations. At the same time, he is suspected by his own people of compromising himself with the reigning powers of the international arena. He is well-versed and highly articulate in the political vocabulary of the West. Yet he is acutely sensitive to perceived slights against the political traditions of his native land. He is bitter about what the Western presence did to his native society. But the very categories in which he couches his criticisms of that presence—the rights to sovereignty, distributive justice, and national self-determination —are themselves the inheritance of the West. He follows with enthusiasm the latest currents of intellectual life in Europe and America. Yet he is deeply committed, simultaneously, to defending the dignity of his own people's cultural achievements. As a result of his modern education, he cannot help but feel somewhat estranged from the traditional beliefs and practices of his fellow citizens. Yet neither can he feel very comfortable as the mere bearer to them of the colonizer's culture, a culture he rarely regards entirely as his own. Such is the predicament of that loquacious and troublesome child of the post-colonial age, the Third World intellectual.