|Maldevelopment - Anatomy of a Global Failure (United Nations University)|
|2. The decade of drift: 1975-1985|
The 1975-85 period is one of continuing drift in the internal strategies of Third World countries and in world economic and political balance. Excitement came at the beginning with the Bandung plan, to build within the Third World a bourgeois national state with a capacity to make progress in solving the problems of underdevelopment in the framework of the interdependence imposed by the worldwide economy. History was to prove the impossibility of the plan in the light of the internal limitations of the practices of the states in question and the offensive led by the West to reject any calls for an adjustment of the international order to meet development needs at the periphery of the capitalist system. Step by step we reached the current situation that we describe as 'recompradorization' of the Third World. At the level of the international order the period is characterized by the beginning of the decline of US hegemony. But if this decline should lead almost inevitably to the reconstruction of a desirably polycentric world, what place would it hold for the Third World regions? In any event, the open crisis since the 1970s has delayed this evolution by inspiring a realignment of the West as a whole to the Atlantic pact (cf. Chapters 4 and 8).1
This is the canvas on which the balancing act of prevailing opinion is painted. After the phase of ingenuous illusions of Third Worldism came the phase of aggressive anti-Third Worldism. In this way analysis and critique of what is in fact an impasse for currently existing capitalism was abandoned, and the door was closed to any close examination of the proposals for delinked national and popular development, as the basis for a necessary reconstruction of a polycentric world more responsive to people's needs.
We shall try in this chapter to sketch the main stages of this drift that in Africa's case runs from the adoption of the rhetorical Lagos Plan of Action (1980), adhering to the logic of the battle for a new international economic order (NIEO) to surrender to the recolonization of the Berg plan (named after the American expert charged by the World Bank with its formulation). At the same time, we shall examine the internal reasons why the various African attempts at alternative development have not so far yielded any but the most sparse results.
More than 30 years ago the principal heads of state of those Asian and African countries that had regained political independence met for the first time at Bandung. The experience of the new authorities they represented was still slight: India and Indonesia had been independent for fewer than ten years, Communist China for only five, and it was only three years since the Egyptian monarchy had bowed out of history. The battle for the achievement of the historic task of independence was not over: the first Vietnamese war was only just finished and the second was already in prospect, the Korean War ended with the status quo, the Algerian war was in full flow, decolonization of sub-Saharan Africa was not even yet foreseen, and the drama of Palestine was in its first phase.
The Asian and African leaders meeting in Bandung were far from resembling one another. The political and ideological currents they represented, their vision of the future society to be built or rebuilt and its relations with the West all provoked different attitudes. But a common plan brought them together and gave their meeting meaning. On their minimum common programme was the achievement of political decolonization of Asia and Africa. Moreover they all appreciated that regaining political independence was a means and not an end, the latter being winning economic, social and cultural liberation. On this, two views divided the Bandung guests: there was a majority view of those who believed in a potential 'development' within 'interdependence' in the world economy, and a view of the communist leaders who believed that a withdrawal from the capitalist camp would lead - with, if not behind the USSR - to the building of a world socialist camp.
The leaders of the capitalist Third World who did not expect to 'leave the system' or 'delink' did not all have the same strategic and tactical view of 'development'. But in varying degrees they did think that the building of an economy and an independent developed society (albeit within global interdependence) entailed an element of 'conflict' with the dominant West (the radical wing regarded it as essential to put a stop to control over the national economy by foreign monopoly capital). In their further concern to preserve the regained independence, they refused to join the planetary war games and serve as bases for the encirclement of socialist countries that US hegemony was seeking. However, they believed too that refusing to join the Atlantic military pact did not imply a willingness to come under the umbrella of its adversary, the USSR. Hence 'neutralism' and 'non-alignment'. The then secret history of relations between China and the USSR, whose crisis was to become public knowledge two years later, was to show that this position was not really very different from the one taken by China in the 1960s. It was also the position in which Yugoslavia found itself after the break of 1948. The formation of a non-aligned front had, therefore, Tito's active sympathy from the very start.
The drawing together of the Afro-Asian states had already begun with the establishment of the Arab-Asian group in the United Nations, in order to defend the cause of independence for the struggling colonies. Bandung reinforced this drawing together and gave the struggle a fillip. Three years later, in liberated Accra, Kwame Nkrumah declared 'Africa must unite'. But once independence was gained and Nkrumahist pan-Africanism failed and there was the demonstration of the impotence of the two camps constituted around the Congo issue (the Casablanca bloc and the Monrovia bloc from 1960 to 1963) African unity was to take the minimal form of the establishment of the Organization of African Unity in 1963.
During the 1960s and the 1970s at one summit meeting after another 'non-alignment' was gradually to slide from the standpoint of a political solidarity front geared to support for liberation struggles and rejection of military alliances to a posture of 'a trade union of economic claims on the North'. The battle for a 'new international economic order' engaged upon in 1975 after the Middle East war of October 1973 and the adjustment in the price of oil was the apotheosis of this evolution only to sound its death knell.
Neither at political nor economic level was the West lightheartedly going to accept the Bandung spirit. Was it mere chance that one year later France, Britain and Israel would try to overthrow Nasser by the joint aggression of 1956? Imperialist capital's rejection of the Bandung political vision was shown by the real hatred the West manifested for the Third World radical leaders of the 1960s (Nasser, Soekarno, Nkrumah, Modibo Keita), who were nearly all overthrown in the same period, from 1965 to 1968, which included Israel's aggression of June 1967. It was, therefore, a politically hamstrung non-aligned camp that was to face the global economic crisis from 1970-71. The West's non-acceptance of the proposed NIEO showed the genuine connection between the political and economic aspects of the Afro-Asian initiative crystallized from Bandung
What may nowadays be called 'development ideology', in a crisis that may be terminal, had its 'moment of glory' between 1955 and 1975, but never gave rise to an interpretation shared by everyone and understood in the same way.
The traditional communist camp was also not prepared to accept the aims that emerged from Bandung. In 1948 Jdanov proclaimed the division of the world into two camps - capitalist and socialist - and, in advance, condemned as illusory any attempt to stand outside them, and hence to wish to be 'nonaligned'. Within this spirit the communists could not envisage any winning of independence by a national liberation movement they had not led. India's independence was marked by the Indian Communist Party as a 'day of national mourning'; in South-East Asia the Chinese and Vietnamese models were thought desirable to be extended to Indonesia, the Philippines. Malaysia. Thailand and Burma. It was only after the first 'stabilization' of the 1950-55 period (the victory in China, armistice and partition in Korea and Vietnam, the admitted defeat of guerrillas elsewhere in South-East Asia), after the Third World 'bourgeois' new regimes had proved their viability, after the start, albeit under 'bourgeois' leadership, of their conflict with the West, and after Stalin's death (1953) and Khruschev's ideological overtures, that the notion of the possibility of a 'viable third camps and a 'third path of development' began to be appreciated.
The non-communist Third World leaders did, however, believe in a 'third path of development' that would be neither 'capitalist', nor an imitation of the socialist models of the USSR and China. Their rejection of Marxism was tempered with considerations of varying kinds: they sometimes saw Marxism as the descendant of European culture and incompatible with their own people's value systems (and religious conviction, Islam, Hinduism or the peculiarities of negritude); sometimes they were merely fearful of losing their independence (Soviet domination of Eastern Europe, denounced by Tito, was on show to fuel their fear); sometimes they were more drawn by the Western model of efficiency and consumption, or freedom (although the latter was less highly valued), than by the Soviet and Chinese models (less efficient or too austere and so on). Out of these ambiguous attitudes were to emerge perhaps the ideologies of particular socialisms' (for example, African, Arab).
'Particular socialisms' or 'particular paths to a socialism of universal application'? This is the locus of debate. The question is not yet settled and may be more open today than ever. The - now open - crisis of 'existing socialisms' may in fact cast doubt on the model of a supposedly achieved socialism. But this crisis has gone through stages and indicates only the interaction of different levels of critique.
The Sino-Soviet dispute certainly had two aspects: one national and the other in regard to the social and political view of a plan for society. It cannot be doubted that China, as a potential great power, was not going to leave Moscow the sole responsibility of deciding the strategies and tactics of confrontation with the United States. It suspected the USSR of being too susceptible of sacrificing the interests of other peoples for its own, whereas Peking was convinced that the 'socialist revolution' was on the agenda in the 'storm zones', that is, the Third World. At the same time, Maoism felt bound to make a critique of the Soviet model of development and embark on an alternative path and an approach that would not reproduce the models of labour organization, consumption and the Western capitalist way of life, by replacing capital ownership with state ownership.
The subsequent arguments, polemics, realities and evolutions make it possible now to have a clearer picture of the divergences and diagnostics of the problems. But opinions and theorizations will go on producing different pictures of the Soviet and Chinese systems that call themselves socialist, of the genuine problems encountered in historical construction (development of the forces of production and new social relations), the emerging gap between the results achieved so far and the idea of socialism (especially Marx's idea), the ideological roots of these evolutions (the historical limitations of Leninism and Maoism as regards the state, the relationship with an avant-garde party, the avant-garde and the people, and so forth), and the effects of these evolutions on the world socialist movement and its integration in world politics and so on.
These realities call for a consideration of the hiatus in the leftist nationalism of Bandung, for subtle judgement and a refusal to utter 'condemnations' in the name of some absolute values supposedly achieved in nearly perfect, or truly perfect models. But they call, too, for a critical approach to the propositions of 'particular socialisms'. The latter have not proved themselves to be a step forward in the solution of problems facing the so-called socialist societies. On the contrary, they have reproduced the shortcomings of the latter, sometimes to the point of caricature: the single party (sometimes with only a paper existence), absolute power, contempt for democracy and basic human rights, without such faults bringing any compensation in terms of economic (or military) efficiency. The ease with which such efforts are overturned revealed by experience justifies some severity on this score.
There was a Bandung plan, albeit implicit and vague, that might be described as the 'bourgeois national plan for the Third World in our age. Although it has particular forms and national characteristics it could be defined as follows: (i) the desire to develop the forces of production and diversify products (namely industrialize); (ii) the desire to ensure for the national state direction and control of the process; (iii) the belief that 'technical' models provide 'neutral' data that can only be copied, albeit by mastering them; (iv) the belief that the process does not primarily require popular initiative but merely popular acquiescence in state action; (v) the belief that the process is not essentially in contradiction with participation in exchanges with the world capitalist system, even if the process does provoke occasional clashes with it.
The context of capitalist expansion in the 1955-70 period to some extent encouraged crystallization of the plan. Hut by what criteria is the success of the bourgeois national plan to be judged? Certainly not the apparent criterion of per capita income.
The implementation of the national bourgeois plan implies a series of controls by the hegemonic national bourgeois class, through the state, at least over the following processes: (i) control of reproduction of labour power, which entails a fairly complete and balanced development such that local agriculture can supply the essential ingredients of this quantitative reproduction and at appropriate prices to bring a return on capital; (ii) control of national resources; (iii) control of local markets and the capacity to penetrate the world market on competitive terms; (iv) control of financial machinery to ensure centralization of the surplus and a say in its productive use; (v) control of the technologies in use to the relevant level of development of the forces of production.
On this basis the Third World experiences can be classified under two headings: countries that have attempted no more than to speed up growth without worrying about the foregoing conditions (Cd'Ivoire, Kenya, Pakistan or Saudi Arabia, among others) and the long list of countries that have attempted to fulfill those conditions (for example. Nasser's Egypt. Algeria. Tanzania, India, Brazil. South Korea). As can be seen the classification does not necessarily distinguish regimes concerned for a measure of social justice and reform, especially land reform (such as Nasser's Egypt or South Korea) from those which have had no hesitation in accepting widening social inequalities (Brazil for example). It does not necessarily distinguish attitudes in regard to transnational capital (Brazil and Kenya are both open to it but the former seeks to relate the capital to its national policy, whereas the latter is happy to adjust to capital's demands), nor even the issue of political relations of contestation or alliance with East and West. Some correlations can be found but the make-up in terms of conjunctures makes each Third World country a special case.
Putting aside the variety of the experience it can be seen that the most coherent achievements have occurred when an acute nationalist combat is combined with a powerful social movement. Nasser's Egypt was certainly one of the best examples of this.
It is no longer possible to ignore the shortcomings of these attempts that have not withstood the vagaries of fortune. The agricultural and food crisis, the foreign debt, the mounting technological dependence, the poor capacity to withstand military aggression, the arrival of the capitalist models of conspicuous waste and the effect of this on ideology and culture are all signs of the historical limitations of the attempt. Even before the current crisis brought an opportunity for a 'Western offensive' to reverse the changes, the shortcomings had already brought things to a halt. This is not to say that the experiences were bound to stop short where they did and that their 'failure' was inevitable. We should argue that to go any further, a genuine 'revolution' was crucial, one that would destroy the double illusion of national development unless it arose from genuinely popular authority, and the possibility of any such development without 'delinking' from the world system. It is not to say that some evolution in this direction was possible in this or that instance, in Egypt for example. It did not happen and now history has moved on.
It is in this sense that we say the plan warrants the description as a bourgeois national plan: and meanwhile it has been found to be impossible. In the same way history has shown that in our day the national bourgeoisie is incapable of achieving what it has done elsewhere, in Europe. North America and 19th century Japan. This thesis is no novelty and it is not the first failure of the attempt in question. Again to give just one example, Egypt's history since Mohamed Ali is one of a succession of bourgeois national attempts smashed each time by the combination of their internal fragility and imperialist aggression: in their own way Mohamed Ali, Khedive Ismail, Orabi (if his revolution has been successful), the Wafd achieved a great deal, in the context of their times, with the means that the modalities of formation of the Egyptian bourgeoisie offered within the framework of the overall capitalist system of the day; their imprint remains strong and in some respects the changes they made are irreversible. But it has to be acknowledged that their failure opened the way each time to a 'compradorization' of Egypt in the style of the time.
No more needs to be said. A study of other Third World countries and regions would in our opinion illustrate the same thesis: an unbroken succession of national bourgeois attempts, repeated abortions and surrender to the demands of the subordination that has followed each time in Latin America since the 19th century (to mention only the most recent examples of the Mexican revolution in the 1910s to 1920s and Peronist Argentina), in India (whose evolution from Nehru's 'first plan' to the return of the right to government after Congress's first failure is eloquent), and in numerous Arab and African countries.
The post-Second World War circumstances were unusually favourable. At the economic level the North's strong economic growth mace 'adjustment' in the South easier. At the political level the peaceful coexistence emerging from the growth of Soviet industrial and military power (from the first Sputnik space flight to the 'strategic balance' achieved in the 1960s to 1970s) in combination with the decline of the former British and French colonialism and the upsurge of the Afro-Asian independence struggles gave the Soviet alliance real effectiveness.
Successes are always crowned with disappointment. An illusion of 'gradual' and virtually painless evolution towards socialism was fostered by the formulation of the theory of the so-called 'non-capitalist road'. Of course this theory did not convince everybody. China denounced it forcefully in the 1960s as an opiate intended to lull the peoples to sleep and damp down the explosions in the 'storm zones'. Che Guevarism tried to counter it with immediate military revolution.
History has now moved on again. Since the early 1970s, the West's economic boom has been smothered to give way to the structural crisis under way, while competition between Europe, Japan and the United States took over from reconstruction under American protection. In the Soviet Union, Khruschev's promises - to overtake American living standards in 1989 - and the attempts at rapid democratization in the wake of the 20th Congress gave way to Brezhnev's stick-in-the-mud, timid and ineffectual reforms to overcome the management crisis of a system faced with the challenge of moving from extensive to intensive accumulation. Gorbachev's initiatives may mark a new departure, but it is early days to judge their extent and effectiveness.3 In China, the about-turn following Mao's death showed that neither the issue of economic efficiency nor of democracy have found their 'definitive' response. Throughout the Third World the food crisis (to the extreme of chronic famine in Africa), the foreign debt crisis and the standstill of imported technology have brought a series of surrenders to the dictates of transnational capital, organized around the Paris and London Clubs, the IMF, the World Bank and the consortium of the large Western banks. In the radically inclined countries, coups d't and military aggression (the 1967 war was no chance) have largely contributed to halting the experiences under way. The Bandung era is past.
The axis of the new world conjuncture is Western capitalist aggression against the Third World peoples, with the aim of subordinating their further evolution to the demands of redeployment of transnational capital.
Is this a painful but passing phenomenon that must necessarily be followed by a new blossoming of 'national bourgeois' advances? Or is it a historical turning point that will no longer allow the following of these successive national bourgeois plans characteristic of at least a century of recent history? This is where the real debate on the character of the challenges and the options for the future lies.
From the late 1960s to the early 1970s (before the 'oil crisis' of 1973-74), the world system entered a long period of structural crisis from which we had not emerged some 18 years or so later. A more systematic analysis of the character of this crisis will be offered below (cf. Chapter 8).4
The overt crisis of the world system over more than 15 years is evidence of a new dimension to what is at stake in the international division of labour, since the crisis commits all the forces of earth to a great battle that will decide the pattern of international power for generations to come. Shall we see a perpetuation of the polarization between the United States and the USSR? Shall we see a polycentric world of five partners (United States. Europe, Japan, USSR and China)? Or shall we see a polycentric world with a more even balance between the great powers and the regions of the Third World (India, Brazil, Latin America, South-East Asia, the Arab and African world)?
The perspectives opening to Africa and the Third World must be seen in this light. More particularly the issue that arises is as follows: on what axes can the international division of labour evolve in regard to the differing strategies of the powers? What strategies can the Third World regions devise in response to the differing strategies possible?
If we must look ahead and not backwards, identify the changes under way in the international division of labour and study their significance, it is because the history of underdevelopment is one of adjustment by the periphery to mutations and evolutions at the centre. In other words 'development' of the periphery has never allowed it to 'catch up' the centre, since each stage of the centre's evolution has meant a new stage in the international division of labour, and the latter goes on being unequal and assigning the periphery subordinate roles.
We have tried elsewhere to trace this history of stages in unequal international specialization, particularly for Africa, in regard to the stages of the constitution and evolution of the world capitalist system. For the Third World as a whole we have come to an end of certain characteristics of the previous periods, but not so in the majority of African countries; these characteristics are mainly subordination of the periphery in the role of suppliers of raw materials and agricultural crops, then import substitution industrialization for the local market (a market distorted by unequal income distribution engendered by the previous stages). The next stage may be accelerated industrialization of the periphery for exports to the centre, through the dumping on the periphery of light and heavy 'classic' industries, and concentration at the centre of new industries as the basis for a renewed model of accumulation: atomic and solar energy, space, genetic engineering and synthetic food production, exploration of the seabed, information science.
This new model of distribution of tasks would remain unequal like the previous (surviving) model. The very logic of the system, the reason for dumping classic industries on the periphery is the possibility of exploiting manpower that is cheap not only in absolute terms but also relative terms, that is in comparison with the productivity of the labour it can supply.
The battles fought during the 1970s were over control of this new international division of labour in prospect. The bourgeoisies of the periphery understanding of their proposals for a new international economic order was that they would participate as partners worthy of the name, whereas the multinationals had an opposing concept of industrial relocation entirely controlled by worldwide capital.
The development of the so-called newly industrializing countries, particularly in east Asia, which did accelerate in this period, was part of this logic. Concentration of clusters of industries in certain parts of the periphery led to the question being raised of possible candidates in Africa. In this context a country can attract multinational companies' capital provided it can already offer a numerous proletariat, skilled cadres - at least of intermediate level - and some capital (to provide the necessary infrastructure and later finance the establishment of industry properly speaking) and as long as the multinational companies retain control of operations through a monopoly of technology and market influence. Few African countries fulfil these conditions, with the exception of South Africa. But the great oil producers (Algeria in particular) and the few countries less heavily populated and more advanced in urbanization and secondary and university education (Egypt primarily and then perhaps Nigeria and Morocco) did seem potential candidates.
One topic of debate of the time was the character of these potential 'sub-imperialisms'. Such 'sub-imperialism' is characterized by the concentration of exports of capital and technology from the centre, intended to enable the beneficiary to export classic industrial products to the centre and secondarily to the less favoured areas of the periphery and by this means to cover dues to the centre on capital and technology. The concentration of classic industries in these countries, combined with the high rates of exploitation of their proletariats, would enable the bourgeois 'sub-imperialists' to benefit from a sufficient share in the surplus to ensure the system's economic and political balance. If ambiguities and false issues are to be avoided in this debate, it is absolutely essential to give up the unfortunate expression 'cub-imperialism' that first came into use to describe the phenomenon of Brazil, as the expression is a poor description of the new stage in the unequal development of the periphery. The reference to imperialism suggests the export of capital, whereas in feet the 'sub-imperialisms' under discussion are importers, just as they import their technology from the centre. The significant point is agreement on content, namely the position occupied by the countries in the new international division of labour. The expression 'conveyor belt' or 'lumpen-development' would, in our opinion, be more appropriate.
The outlook implies a sharpened differentiation within the Third World. The cleavages already apparent in Africa (coastal countries and the so-called 'less developed' of the interior) are accentuated by this new factor. The great majority of African countries are still typically colonial in their economic and social structures, based on a colonial trade economy, as the 'development' policies pursued since independence have done no more than continue those implemented before the 1960s. But it was possible at the time to believe that some countries in Africa were in a position to play the role taken on by others elsewhere: Mexico and Brazil in Latin America, Iran in the Middle East, India in south Asia, Korea in east Asia.
At the time and in contrast to the prospects of the world system's reorganization, certain African countries insisted on their determination for autonomous, self-reliant, and 'socialist' development. Under the circumstances they could do no more than express a more or less serious political intention, as there had been no change in the economic and social structures: or go forward with the initiation of new social patterns characterized by internal class alliances in contradiction with the position offered the country in the international division of labour - whether that inherited from the previous stages or that in prospect.
The prospect of the new international division of labour was scarcely encouraging. For the conveyor belt countries it could mean no more than a kind of 'lumper development', marked by rising unemployment and immiserization of the masses, for the other countries a status of 'cub-colony' and a worsening of their situation as was already to be seen in the Sahel region hit by famine, and for the cause of African unity a step backwards that might be irrecoverable.
To the degree that the 'rationalist' social patterns entered into contradiction with this outlook, it was possible to envisage en 'alternative strategy'. This proposed to compel the North to adjust to the demands of the NIEO and by this means institute a transition that could still be called socialist, with its own social aims (full employment, education, social justice). Algeria under Boumedienne's government seemed to be leading this group of countries. It must, however, be understood that so long as dependence on technology and access to external markets are not challenged, the institute of transition to socialism remains vulnerable. Here, Egypt's experience should be considered. At the level of industrialization Egypt was by far the most advanced African country. Egyptian industry, entirely nationalized, was well ahead of that in any other country on the continent. The internal social relations peculiar to Nasser's Egypt explain why these nationalizations were not accompanied by more radical challenges as to the destination and type of product, the technologies, and so on. The result was a blockage in this type of development, contradictory only in part with the international division of labour. This blockage (how was imported technology to be paid for, how could further industrialization be financed) led to the about-turn we know of, indicating the surrender of the Egyptian bourgeoisie to the dictates of world capitalism and of its American component in particular.
The actual changes that ensued, especially after 1980, dashed the hopes of the earlier years. Not only were the claims of the NIEO rejected, but also there was virtually no redeployment. The Reaganite counter-attack, aimed at restoring the threatened US hegemony, led to Western unity, albeit transitorily, and to the West's lining up as a whole against the Third World. A strategy of 'recompradorization' of the latter replaced the collective negotiations and concessions. Under the hammer blows of the 'preadjustment' offensive imposed by the IMF, taking advantage of Third World debt, the nationalist regimes surrendered one by one. But the widespread recompradorization did not prevent further differentiation within the Third World. We shall come back to the significance of this in Chapter 7. In our view the so-called newly industrializing countries are the real periphery of today and tomorrow, while the others - 'delinked by default' - are passively undergoing the fate of the 'fourth world' as it is called nowadays. This sad outlook for the greater part of the African continent, and one that tempers the extent of the seeming 'economic successes' of the countries appearing to be exceptions to the rule, is not surprising. It should come as a surprise only to those who fail to understand that the process of the worldwide expansion of capitalism is not solely a process of development but likewise a process of destruction.
All these negative evolutions have wiped out past hopes in a positive drawing together of the European, Arab and African worlds within the prospect of rebuilding a polycentric, balanced world conducive to better development of the Third World. We shall return to this striking move backwards and the political regression that has occurred north and south of the Mediterranean and the Sahara (cf. Chapter 4).
The claims by Third World states for a 'New International Economic Order' formed a coherent whole whose logic was perfectly comprehensible. Substantial and sustained rises in raw materials prices, strengthened by a debt reduction and more favourable conditions for the transfer of technology, were the method par excellence of improving the financial prospects of a new stage of Third World industrialization. This industrialization, based on what conventional wisdom regards as 'comparative advantages', was conceived on the dual basis of relatively cheap manpower and natural resources allowing for exports to the developed world in an expanded network of world trade. The opening up of developed countries' markets to the export of the manufactures of the Third World would, according to the conventional wisdom, serve the collective interest by making the international division of labour more responsive to the source of inputs. Furthermore, industrial exports would help bridge the Third World food gap through imports replacing aid.
The rise in oil prices at the end of 1973 strengthened the credibility of this programme by showing that it was possible to secure alternative prices for raw materials, and that these were certainly not 'unbearable' for the developed world. It showed that the financial resources generated in this way could be devoted to an acceleration of industrialization in the beneficiary countries. In this sense, October 1973 marks a turning point in the history of international relations, the moment of consciousness of the Third World countries not of their rights but of their power.
It was, therefore, a programme in total accordance with all the sacrosanct principles defended by Western liberal orthodoxy. A programme taking greater heed than ever of the objectives of world economic interdependence and seeking to place this on a footing of comparative advantages. A programme that should have been shaped and proposed by the economics professors in the most conservative institutions rather than by the governments who had constantly been lambasted by those institutions for their bent to 'nationalism', a supposedly obsolete philosophy contrary to the interests of their peoples. It is an irony of history that the initiative came from the 'rationalist' Third World and was unanimously rejected by the apostles of the principles on which it was based!
The claim of the NIEO coincided with the most serious post-war crisis. It was even argued that the oil price rise - the first (and as yet sole) indicator of the implementation of the Third World programme for the NIEO - was the 'cause' of the crisis. A veritable campaign was orchestrated on this theme in 1973 and 1974, using every kind of argument and despite all the facts: the beginning of the international monetary crisis and the appearance of US external deficits since the mid-1960s, the precedence of stagflation, the scale and persistence of inflation rates irrespective of the calculable increase attributable to oil, the (still massive) placing of oil revenues on the Western finance markets, the modest role of petro-dollars in comparison with the movable assets of the transnationals in speculative fluctuations, and so on. The campaign has of necessity long hung fire: erosion of the oil price in the 1 980s and the reversal of the conjuncture ('the end of the era of OPEC') have never allowed it any funkier take-off.
The fact is, that the crisis has its main origin in the international division of labour in force, that challenged by the claims of the NIEO. We should remember that the former international division of labour confined the developing countries to the export of (agricultural and mineral) primary products, as their (import substitution) industrialization was strictly limited to their domestic market. This international division of labour was one of the bases on which the continuing prosperity of the previous quarter of a century was built. A prosperity confined, if truth be told, to the developed centres of the system. If the centres at the time in question enjoyed a high level of employment, continual growth in productivity and comparable growth in wages, for the underdeveloped peripheries and their growth rates the same mechanisms that give rise elsewhere to full employment and growth in real wages produced a continual rise in unemployment and underemployment, stagnation, or a fall in real wages and the rewards for rural producers; there the crisis was permanent. Only from the 1970s did the crisis begin to spread throughout the world system, that is, to pass to the developed centres as well.
If this is the case the best way to overcome the crisis would be to change the ground rules of the international division of labour and accept the claims of the Third World. It must be obvious that export industrialization in the Third World would provide work for a substantial number of the Third World's unemployed, create new outlets for the machine tools of the developed world and correct the imbalances in the profitability of various industrial sectors, since the falling rate of profit shown by the crisis arises from the inappropriateness of the current international division of activity.
Such measures to revise the international division of labour serve only to highlight the economic logic of the system. Here lies its logical strength and current weakness. Since: a) the world system cannot be reduced to a simple 'pure' economic logic, namely maximization of profit on a world scale, without regard to the division of the world into nations, the locus of operation of essential and immediate political forces; and b) the crisis cannot be surmounted except by implementation in a co-ordinated and systematic manner of the new international division of labour, nor is this the 'beet' solution in the light of national factors, nor is this solution the most 'probable'.
Peaceful, co-ordinated and systematic implementation of a new international division of labour might be the dream of a technocrat with a single purpose: the maximization of profit. Oddly enough the Third World states have behaved like this collective technocrat, while the Western authorities, apostles par excellence of the philosophy of profitability, have recoiled from the logical consequences of their own philosophy and rejected the industrial relocation that was on offer.
Accordingly, the internal logic of the programme for the NIEO reflected the contradictory character of capital accumulation on a world scale. To some extent the programme was initially a scheme to deepen the international division of labour through a levy on the rate of surplus value (super-exploitation of labour power at the periphery) it would have permitted a rising rate of profit on the world scale (and at this level looked like a programme of capitalist development), but in another way, within the framework of this common aim of capitalist development, the strategies of the monopolies and the imperialist states and those of the bourgeoisies and the peripheral states would have come into contradiction.
The imperialist monopolies took a narrow view of the 'new order'. To them it meant taking greater profit from the cheap manpower and natural resources of the Third World, by relocating segments of the production processes they themselves controlled. Under this strategy relocation was not aimed at creating integrated national industrial economies in the Third World, however outward-looking. On the contrary, the interest of the monopolies was in exporting discrete segments in such a way as to retain control over economic life as a whole on the world scale. In this framework the monopolies could make small concessions to the 'host countries', or even in extreme cases renounce formal ownership of the capital. Competition, the absence of integration of the segments, their technological dependence, such as the obligation to sell their output on the oil-rich markets controlled by the monopolies, all reduced the meaning of formal ownership of the capital; the monopolies could impose very harsh conditions on their partners. It was laissez-faire on the scale of a world under monopoly domination. In such circumstances, even the financing of the relocation through the Third World countries' own means could bring an additional benefit to the monopolies as vendors of turnkey factories. This profitable exaction was in effect included in the pricing structure. Meanwhile the exaction could be enlarged through visible financial transfers by way of technology sales, licenses and trade marks, and through interest on loans for plant expansion. Sometimes even the pricing structure was distorted to remove the apparent profitability from the segments transferred: loans supposed to make good 'management deficits' are nothing less than resurrected forms of capitalism's perennial tendency to plunder. Financial neo-capital, in imitation of the old mercantilist capital, appeared anew, as at the dawn of capitalism: 'primitive' accumulation is always with us.
This strategy has its own name - and not by chance - of 'redeployment'. It has the active support of the World Bank, the IMF and other institutions of the developed capitalist states, and wins acceptance as a 'new order' for the new enclaves of the 'free zone' kind. Obviously the strategy reduces to a minimum the local state's role, which becomes a mere administration policing the exploited labour force. It also aims to divide the Third World not only by widening the gap between countries of 'strong growth' and 'stagnant' countries, but also in setting the former to compete against one another.
What the Third World, or at least the driving element among the nonaligned, meant by a new international order was very different. Revision of the international division of labour along the lines described was intended to accompany and implement the establishment of a self-reliant industrial national economy.
The strengthening of the national state, and the active role of state policy were, in this strategy, to ensure that industry was not made up of discrete fragments, but of every stage of the production process. The resort to importation of the ingredients of these production lines (the purchase of turnkey factories) entailed a high level of exports, whether of 'traditional' raw materials or new industrial products. Hence the success of the strategies was largely dependent on the capacity to win concessions, which was in turn the programme for the new international economic order.
The conflict of these two 'interpretations' of the new order has appeared in all the negotiations on the industrial international division of labour and relocation. The points of discussion were the character and options of establishment, the degree of decentralized decision-making, the methods of financing the transfers, issues of personnel training and management, and access to external markets. The Third World states generally pressed for: the establishment of as complete industries as possible, with upstream and downstream links, agreed rules subjecting the management of industrial units to the state's industrial policy, an option for management of units by local staff, access to international distribution networks for manufactured goods to localized firms (as the lowering of protectionist barriers by the developed countries was not regarded as a sufficient guarantee of access to these markets), support for national technological research, regulated financing (to avoid, for example, a subsidiary of a multinational financing its investment by calling on local banking sources without bringing in new capital), regulation of transfers (a sharing of risks, ceilings on exportable profits, obligations to invest part of the profit in the national economy) and so on.
These demands were regarded as unacceptable by the multinationals whose sole interest was in partial relocation through subsidiaries under their virtual control.
Gradually, most of the Third World states have had to come to terms with the redeployment strategy. The only states in a position to negotiate are those that refuse the direct establishment of subsidiaries and seek an alternative in the purchase of turnkey factories within the framework of their overall industrialization policy.
The strategy of these states counted on the possibility of successful change of the international order through unilateral joint action, and through further action from North-South collective negotiations. The idea, it should be remembered, was to organize cartels of Third World producers who could insist on price revisions for raw materials. National control over natural resources should allow scope for manoeuvre not only on supply, but also and above all on exploitation of the resources that took into account long-term national interests and halted the rates of exploitation governed entirely by the needs of the developed world. With this new-found strength, the Third World countries hoped to enjoy a genuine negotiating power that would oblige the North to make concessions: for instance, access to its markets, a code of conduct for transfers of technology. Co-operation between Third World countries ('collective self-reliance') was part of this bid for strength (cf. Chapter 7).
This is the essential context for discussing the use of oil surpluses. On some views the NIEO was to be no more than the rise in oil prices alone and the relocation of export industry a minor operation. On this view the oil revenue surpluses should be made available to the developed financial markets to supply their own policies of intervention in relations between developed countries, and marginal support for the 'survival' of the old international division of labour in the developing countries. This rescued the attitude of 'aid' as a permanent safety-valve ensuring the perpetuation of a system that was increasingly unjust day by day. The actual use of oil surpluses has in fact served this purpose (cf. Chapter 6).
In the mid-1970s there was still the hope that the Third World would reject this narrow view. The non-aligned movement and the group of 77 were seeking a strategy for collective battle for across the board increases in raw materials prices, as the resolution on the solidarity fund and producers associations taken at Dakar in February 1977 showed. This strong and valid approach was not sustained. Under the pressure of the developed countries and the bias of UNCTAD and endless 'negotiation' and 'dialogue', the 'stabilization' fund strategy replaced that of producers associations for collective unilateral intervention where such was required.
So, in the end, the battle for the NIEO was lost. As well as the failure being noted, the causes have to be studied. Are they purely circumstantial (in the economic crisis)? Can they be attributed to 'tactical errors' by the Third World (its own divisions and weaknesses)? Or do these circumstances and weaknesses show the impossibility of autocentric development at the periphery of the modern capitalist system? We shall return to these fundamental issues (cf. Chapter 8).
This failure being so, what has actually happened? Relocation advances at tortoise-like pace, heightening differentiation with the Third World, feeding the illusion of possible compromise between the bourgeois national plan and integration in the world system for some, and marginalization for others. The seeming successes of Korea, Brazil and India have forced the collective plan of the NIEO into the background. We shall return to these successes (cf. Chapters 6 and 7) to assess their character and extent.
Few now remember the Lagos Plan of Action, adopted by the OAU summit in 1980, in the tracks of the euphoria that five years earlier had marked the Third World's adoption of a charter for a 'new international economic order'.5
Once the euphoria of the early 1960s was over, the tares of colonial development suddenly resuscitated by the newly independent regimes were not slow to sprout. Then 15 years of systematic efforts by some to bring to Africa the concept of autocentric development were at last to find a response. The whole strength of the Lagos Plan lay in the fact that it was based on this masterfully simple idea that Africa's development could not be merely a passive result of the world system's or evolution of the European Economic Community, to which the continent's states had been bound by the association named after the agreements of Yaoundnd LomThe explicit option for a new, self-reliant development strategy arose from this crucial idea.
But the Lagos Plan did not draw the conclusions implied in the logic of this option. It was satisfied with the easy part of the task, namely showing how this option did make it possible to overcome the handicaps of extraversion. In this spirit the Lagos Plan set itself the target of strong growth (7% a year) based on a genuine agricultural revolution (4% annual growth) and subsequent industrialization (9.5% annual growth). At the same time, it declared the aim of economic and even cultural and social integration for the continent.
As soon as we move from intentions to a consideration of the means of implementation, however, we find the weaknesses of the plan. These were manifest in the 'technical' method employed to calculate the 'means' in question. The calculation, starting from projection of demand, then used known technologies and a tabulation of input and output to define the desirable structure of production. Hence could be deduced the amount of investment and imports needed and consequently the corresponding exports demanded. A routine methodology, whose reputation for 'neutrality' in relation to the aims is certainly vouched for by the planners. But the methodology is not neutral: it assumes the given demand and hence reproduces the distortions in the specific income distribution of peripheral capitalism, along with the negative effects of the imported model of consumption; it accepts the structure of world prices as the criterion for economic rationality, although this structure reproduces the dual polarization between the centres and the peripheries and in income distribution within the peripheral societies.
Little wonder that the use of this methodology brought results in direct contradiction with the declared principle of autocentric development. The Plan's calculations were based on imports growing faster than the GDP (8% a year for imports) and a significant contribution from foreign capital (since exports were to grow at the rate of GDP, 7% a year). The Lagos Plan, despite its declaration of principle, was a classic plan for development by way of greater integration in the world economy.
The genuine implementation of the principle of autocentric development implies very different reasoning that has the nerve to challenge the criteria of economic rationality observed by conventional economics.
Without dwelling at great length here on the details of an alternative methodology consistent with the option of autocentric development, it may be recalled that this option requires the determination of a pricing structure delinked from that governed by the worldwide law of value, such that it ensures approximately equal rewards for labour in the various sectors of production (and therefore substantially reduces the gap between town and countryside, industry and modern informal sectors, and so on). On this basis of a national and popular economic rationality it may be possible to formulate development policies whose benefits can really bring improved standards of living to the broad mass of the people (cf. Chapter 5).
Priority for agriculture must come within this framework, as was shown earlier in the critique offered of the prevailing concepts of agricultural development. Similarly industrialization within this framework must be industrialization in support of the agricultural revolution, at least as a prolonged first stage.
In these areas the Lagos Plan was content to wage a rearguard action against the colonial onslaught of the World Bank. For example, it correctly defends the principle of industrialization that had been challenged on the grounds of conflicting with agricultural development! This is a throwback to the old colonial prejudice of an Africa 'naturally agricultural', as if agricultural development was really possible without industrialization, and contrary to the whole of the world's history. In the same way the Lagos Plan correctly defends the principle of basic industry. But it stops there and fails to challenge the mundane model of industrialization followed on the continent so far. It is obvious that the industrialization required is not an industrialization on all fronts, undefined and general and mainly for import substitution and exports through the processing of mineral resources. The spurious argument about export industry or import substitution industry has obscured the real argument. The Lagos Plan could not escape from a view of industrialization subordinate to the demands of the international division of labour. By adopting the UNIDO industrialization plan (the Lima targets: a 2% share of world industrial output for Africa by the year 2000), plus the plans of the
African states, the Lagos document demonstrated both a disturbing lack of imagination and a low level of consciousness of the character of the option of self-reliance.
This is all the more serious since the Lagos Plan is still within the area of exploitation of natural resources, and the traditional colonial and neo-colonial view of Africa as a 'source of supply' for the development of others. It is not enough that the very concept of control over natural resources is overlooked (and from this point of view the Lagos document is a step backwards in comparison with the concepts of the NIEO), that the Lagos document naively declares its confidence in the multinationals developing these resources(!) and hopes that the African states will show a united front in their shared demands, but also and principally that the Lagos Plan envisages the exploitation of Africa's resources on the basis of world demand. On the energy issue, however, we note that the Lagos Plan did try to avoid the narrow and fruitless discussion of 'oil costs'.
We are brought back to the central issue of foreign trade. Development 'within the world system' (in fact based on further integration with it) does come from worldwide demand and hence always seeks to maximize exports in line with that demand. Conversely, autocentric development regards foreign trade as a remainder. It begins with a calculation of essential imports for each stage of the implementation of the autocentric strategy, and on the basis of this figure sets the level of export needed to finance imports. This approach leads to the conclusion that the maximization of exports of mineral resources is often not only useless but also dangerous because of the distortion and increased dependency it brings.
Other aspects of the Lagos Plan's development strategy are treated in the same way, in contradiction with the declared option of self-reliance. This is the case for the issue of technology, perceived simply as acquisition of technologies in use in the West. In this regard the plan is caught in the trap of the old argument on the technology said to be 'appropriate' to the factors of production, as it confuses the role of technological research with the problems of management. It does likewise with education, whose objectives are defined in purely quantitative terms without serious regard to the alienation it may bring; without any consideration of the changes necessary to keep pace with autonomous scientific and technological development; with transport and communication no more than a cumulative list of national projects. As for comments on environmental and feminist issues, they take the form of wishful thinking additions to fall in with current fashion.
The obvious result is that the Lagos Plan concludes with a giant 'finance gap'. When the UN General Assembly at its special session in 1986 came to consider the extent of foreign aid required, we were back to square one, as such aid was unimaginable in the prevailing circumstances.
In short, the Lagos Plan, despite its declaredly 'self-reliant' intentions, despite its strong criticism of the colonial and neo-colonial heritage, could not escape the conventional methodology closely associated with the conventional strategy of peripheral capitalist development. Its technical and institutional
(not to mention bureaucratic) approach - whereby for each 'problem' area the plan proposes the establishment of a Pan-African organization to deal with it (!) - its naive view of African integration through 'the common market' (in contradiction with historical experience showing that the market can only aggravate inequalities between the regions it incorporates), its astonishing silence on the identification of the agents of change (states, or private enterprises, and which ones) and on the structures of economic power in Africa, are clear indicators of the unresolved conflict between praiseworthy intentions and the possible ways and means.
This might seem harsh criticism. It may be tempered by reference to numerous positive and passing aspects of the document, but unfortunately the latter do not make up for the overall line of thinking pursued.
The question of development strategy for Africa, as for the Third World, is complex and ambiguous. Should development be conceived in accordance with the demands of the international order, or conversely, is it necessarily in conflict with it? Can the international order be transformed end 'adjusted' to the priority demands for Third World development, or conversely can the latter only be the result of the reverse 'adjustment'? The merit of the NIEO proposals was that they raised these issues without prejudice. The NIEO was trying to be both 'realistic' end 'optimistic'. It accepted that the, inescapable demands of autocentric development were not necessarily in total conflict with 'worldwide interdependence'. It therefore proposed a transformation in the international order conducive to a reconciliation of interests, to the advantage of all.
The facts have shown that this view was based on a naive illusion as to the laws governing existing world capitalism. The West's categorical rejection of the NIEO proposals has brought about first a resumption of the development initiative by the agencies charged with implementing traditional Western ideas, and second a range of attempted 'compromises' falling back from the NIEO plan.
The World Bank's 1980 plan for sub-Saharan Africa, drafted by the North American expert Elliot Berg is a typical example of the former. This plan, directly following the principles of Reaganite orthodoxy, seeks merely to legitimize the maximum demands of worldwide capital, as was shown above.
Whatever the deep contradictions, shortcomings and naivetof the Lagos Plan, it was more realistic, less ideological and even more soundly scientific (notwithstanding the inadequacies of its methodology) than the virtually skimped work of the World Bank. But the powers that be in the world exchequer are such that the Lagos Plan, far from being a point of departure, was soon buried, while the World Bank's language became the leitmotiv of official policies.
Undoubtedly, the international conjuncture was altogether unpromising as the NIEO proposals were rejected even as a basis of discussion. The Europe of the EEC, with its special responsibility for Africa, inherited from colonialism, then came to the fore. The Lagos Plan had refrained from even discussing the structures of overall power accompanying the association conventions of the ACP and EEC, presumably to avoid hurting feelings beyond the Mediterranean. The inadequate aid projected within the framework of association (here, too, the Lagos Plan refrained from making any judgement on the structures of power associated with so-called 'co-operation'), the inadequate resources available to stabilize agricultural products, with Stabex unable to withstand a deep and prolonged crisis, the even more dubious character of the Sysmin mechanism, which enshrines the control of worldwide capital over the continent's principal resources, encouraged reformist circles, such as those the Brandt Commission aroused briefly, to offer modest corrective solutions. The latter have been no better received than the earlier, more radical, proposals of the NIEO.
The new language of South-South co-operation was, in the circumstances, an ambiguous advance. Undoubtedly the national and popular policies for self-reliance had every interest in mutual reinforcement through complementary South-South co-operation, if only to offset the difficulties of a too restricted market in the smaller countries, or modest amounts of such and such a resource in other cases, for example. But in the absence of a genuine autocentric option at national levels, South-South co-operation meant very little. As we shall see in Chapter 6, it was inevitably to become a complement to the North-South inequalities against which it was aimed. Despite these inevitable limitations in the current situation, genuine co-operation efforts such as Afro-Arab cooperation (cf. Chapter 6) and the establishment of the South-South Commission may be useful investments that could bear fruit later when the current wave of 'compradorization' has exhausted its disastrous impact.
The collapse of the bourgeois national plan in the Third World, combined with the eclipse of the national and popular forces exposed by this failure, created favourable conditions for an offensive by the most reactionary forces, symbolized by the IMF and World Bank.
In the light of this offensive the Western ideological currents not hostile to Third World peoples were entirely disarmed, at least for the time being. This no doubt explains why to date they have offered nothing more than proposals representing pious hopes.
The first Brandt Report shares the general philosophy - of which its very sub-title, 'A Programme for Survival', is a reminder - according to which interdependence is synonymous with the shared interests of partners. What has to be saved is therefore this threatened 'global interdependence'. The world system must be maintained, and the various national societies must find their role and fit their development to the overall development of the system. The entire report, recommendations and analyses (or more precisely lack of analyses) are based on this option. The hypothesis that the common interest prevails over the conflict of interests leads inevitably to the language of pious hopes: we quote what the world's governments would like...
History offers too many denials of this philosophy for its continued acceptance: (i) since history to date has been precisely that of interdependence and asymmetry of this (hence the very expression of interdependence is inaccurate and that of dependence more appropriate); (ii) the history of this unequal development is that of unequal evolution of the power of the partners and hence of a succession of phases of development in the system ('A' phases of overall growth in a system defined by rules-particularly of the division of labour - hierarchies, one or more hegemonies, and so on) and crises, enforced transition from an A1 phase to an A2 phase by B crisis (defined by challenge to the rules and hierarchies); B phases of crisis, demonstrating the conflict of interests and the change wrought by the resolution of the conflicts, are based on the acknowledgement of the new balance of power; (iii) the changes in power relations owe their origin to the cumulative effects of unequal interdependence and internal transformations in societies.
Our period is clearly one of a B phase of crisis. It serves no purpose to deny the conflicts of interest, which are primary, or to treat them as insignificant. This would prevent any understanding.
The remedy for the global crisis that the report proposes is one of world Keynesianism, in Andre Gunder Frank's felicitous turn of phrase. The report says: 'Advocates of various schemes of "massive transfers" of funds from North to South have argued that such action would amount to a pump-priming of the world economy. We view them as contributing to growth and employment creation in the North as in the South.' (pp. 67-8 of the report).
The NIEO proposals in this regard were better and stronger and without the dubious diversion of the 'large-scale transfers'. The NIEO proposed simply export industrialization from the South to the North, based on low wages and abundant natural resources. This massive relocation of industry would doubtless have raised the global rate of profit. In this area Keynesianism is more simple: it attributes the crisis to insufficiency of demand that may be stimulated by income redistribution. It refrains from going on to the organization of production. The NIEO was aimed directly at the latter. Relocation evidently brings both redistribution of the forces of production, and hence of income, and an increase in the rate of profit. The NIEO moreover, far from begging for additional 'transfer', whose limitations and largely harmful character have been shown in history, envisaged an increase in prices for the traditional exports from the South and the mobilization of the additional resources generated in this way (mining and oil royalties in particular) to finance the new stage of growth without any 'transfers'.
Clearly the partners of the redistribution in question are not the 'peoples', but countries. The NIEO did not make the naive mistake of confusing them. In fact export industrialization based on cheap manpower presupposes: (i) exploited agriculture that supplies the towns with a superabundance of proletarianized labour power and cheap foodstuffs: and (ii) urban unemployment, a poor working class and subordinate middle class. The plan therefore was not one of 'development to the benefit of the poor', but one of capital accumulation. Clearly, too, the partners in the conflict were the ruling classes; the battle for the redistribution in question was between capital in the North and states in the South on the ground of division of an increasing surplus.
The absence of analysis of the causes of the defeat of the states in the South leads the Brandt Report, for each issue dealt with, to propose inadequate, misleading and generally naive solutions, a) The report's recommendation - to accord priority to agriculture - is superficial. Such a priority is unquestionable. But the models of colonial exploitation, founded on the same priority (the colonial trade economy, the concessionary companies and the reserves) are the historical source of the current wretchedness of the African countryside. The 'new' policies (bureaucratic incorporation, kulakization or agro-business - proposed by the World Bank) reducing the food priority to food production plans without questioning the overall policy of world integration - are bound to aggravate the wretchedness of the peasants.
'Food priority' should mean something very different (i) a challenge to all aspects of the global policy (income distribution, real wages and agricultural prices, taxation and finance, and so forth); (ii) establishment of industries to serve the agricultural priority and not export, or to meet the relevant demand on the basis of existing structures; (iii) autonomy for peasant communities in the conception and execution of their development plans (and this goes much wider than the land reforms proposed in the report); and finally (iv) detachment from the criteria of profitability, on the understanding that the establishment of a national and popular economy and society will be in contradiction with the demands of 'international competition'.
What has been said of agriculture is mutatis mutandis also true of other sectors of popular concern: small businesses and crafts serving popular consumption. The Brandt report proposes assistance to the informal sector; it overlooks that this sector, geared as it is to an economy that does not seek to satisfy popular needs, is therefore exploited. Classic language of 'social services' is no substitute for the demands for genuine autonomy for the collective bodies of the people.
Building an economy seeking to satisfy popular needs does certainly require 'internal reforms'. But history and politics show that these reforms are scarcely compatible with the demands of integration in the world system. And why does the report shy away from condemning the policies of 'destabilization' of popular regimes conducted by international powers and institutions such as the IMF?
b) In dealing with the 'less developed' countries the report acts as if it were dealing with a homogeneous group, while a historical analysis has led it to postulate various types of country 'less developed' for differing reasons and tending to their integration in the world system es 'peripheries of peripheries', with some supplying migrant labour (two examples: (I) the second degree trade economy of Burkina Faso in relation to Cd'Ivoire: or (2) reserves, such as the bantustans or Lesotho) and others foodstuffs (an example: the Sahel countries exporting meat and recently cereals to the Benin coast),
c) The timidity in regard to dominant monopoly capital to be observed in the chapter on trade. Was it not ludicrous to propose common funds and other ways of stabilizing trade without taking account of the failure of negotiations? Why ignore the possibility, entertained in 1975, of forming cartels of Third World producers? Surely that was the only way to shift the balance of power in favour of the South?
(d) With respect to energy and mineral resources, where Northern interests are at stake, the report suggests only: (i) accelerating the search for mineral resources in the South through a special fund; (ii) that poverty in the South is produced by the high price for oil! But why accelerate the pillage of the natural resources of the South and preserve waste in the North? Why does the report remain silent on the political economy of the mineral rent and its relationship to the international division of labour?
e) On industrialization, the report seems to regard as positive the results obtained in the 'NlCs' - the semi-industrialized countries of Brazil. Mexico, South Korea, etc. But it overlooks: (i) that a global strategy of localization would necessarily accentuate the unequal development of the South; (ii) that this strategy was based on repressive social policy; growth in GDP and industrial output is accompanied by a stagnation or fall in workers' pay and peasant incomes; (iii) for this very reason the populations of the NICs do not appear to welcome the proposed model: Iran's Shah fell when there was accelerated growth; the democratic revolution in South Korea, the Philippines and elsewhere directly attacks the model entailing political repression; (iv) that, contrary to the model's suppositions, the priority option for export industry does not improve the external balance; are not the NICs the most heavily indebted of all Third World countries?
f) The report limits its comments on the transnationals virtually to a case for a 'code of conduct'. But is there not a further danger for Third World countries in agreeing to bow to the demands of a new stage in the transnationals' penetration of the world economy by granting it a juridical status it does not yet enjoy?
g) Finally, the report regards international labour migrations as advantageous for both partners. What a mistake, when history has shown that the countries of emigration are for ever being impoverished (consider Ireland which had the same population as England when it was sadly conquered, and the effect of emigration), and that in the exceptional case when a country does develop, it ceases this impoverishing emigration (consider modern Italy and Spain).
Of course, the proposed compromises led nowhere. Africa went on drifting. In their weakened condition the African states surrendered. In these circumstances the UN special session on Africa (1986) produced the sad spectacle of Africa begging for 'aid' to keep the system going without any prospect of development. Naturally the aid did not come. Nor has Africa won anything in the area of debt relief, the subject of a special African summit in 1987. Africa is the most vulnerable of empty bellies throughout the contemporary Third World.
Latin America in general is characterized by the newly industrializing countries. It also seemed more resistant to the crisis and maintained respectable growth rates in the 1970s, when these were falling in the developed capitalist world and in some other Third World regions, Africa in particular. Latin America believes it can sustain this kind of development, further complementing the range of export industries by a range intended for the local, national and regional markets. It believes this is necessary to maintain access to capital markets and to massive import of technology. It is thereby accepting increased dependence, just as it tends to line up with the developed world on energy policies.
The Arab world (and Iran), although revealing a level of urbanization and industrialization comparable to that of Latin America, has suffered the consequences of its massive but unequally distributed share of oil production. Agricultural weakness (with a reduced and very uneven potential), the Palestine issue, superpower competition in the region, impasses of the political forces in the forefront over three decades, are jumbled up and lead to a fairly chaotic situation.
The NICs in east Asia are threatened by the narrowness of their internal markets and their extreme dependence on the world market, to a greater extent than in Latin America. The maintenance of their economic model may be difficult and the political chaos in South Korea is doubtless not unconnected with the difficulties of 'change-over'. The south and south-east Asian countries, like the whole of Africa, are suffering from the massive impact of the crisis. The collapse of growth and productive investment, like the worsening of public financial and external deficits, is already commonplace.
Africa's situation in general is even more grave since, as has been shown, neither agricultural revolution nor industrialization has really begun. In these circumstances Africa is on the way to teeing 'marginalized', to undergoing a 'passive delinking'. The modish expression 'fourth world' indicates a 'rediscovery' of the commonplace that the worldwide expansion of capitalism is not synonymous with 'development everywhere', but of development, albeit peripheral in this instance, and destruction in another. Africa, under these circumstances, is bound for such destruction. The real periphery of tomorrow will be the NICs of Asia and America (that is why describing them as 'semiperipheral' is inaccurate, cf. Chapter 6), while the African 'fourth world' will no longer represent the 'typical periphery', but the last remnants of the periphery of yesterday en route for destruction.
The first Brandt Report attached great importance to immediate issues and in particular to the threat of a global financial crash, in connection with world inflation and the galloping increase in the external debt of some countries. Andre Gunder Frank went so far as to suspect that the real aim of the report and of the proposed summit that eventually was held at Cancun - was to examine ways and means of avoiding a financial crash.
The solution, establishing a link between the issue of international liquidities and development aid, envisaged many years ago then dropped, was taken up by the report. This link would make it possible to avoid financial collapse for certain Third World countries whose foreign debt threatened the global balance. This, according to Gunder Frank, was the 'true ground of mutual interest, for states as a whole'. But is a link of this kind possible?
The report's general considerations on the international monetary system seemed naive. The report sought the establishment of a 'fair world monetary system...'. This has never been the case to date. First, there has never been a monetary system except in periods of economic hegemony of a national centre. It was the case in the 19th century, and up to 1914, when the gold (but really sterling) standard corresponded to British hegemony. It was again the case from 1944 (Bretton Woods) to 1971 (suspension of dollar convertibility) while US hegemony lasted. By contrast, during what Arrighi cells 'tine 30 years war for the British succession', between the US and Germany from 1914 to 1945, there was no world monetary system but a great deal of chaos. The reason for such chaos, including the 1929 crash, was not that there was no world monetary system, but on the contrary, the fact of their being no world hegemonic power made it impossible to have a world monetary system. With the beginning of the decline of US hegemony, we have once more entered a period of this kind.
Disorder inevitably encourages inflationary pressures; this was the case during the 1914-45 period. It was the case again from the second half of the 1960s, in new guises but for the same basic reason. The crisis began in relations between the dollar and the mark, yen and other European currencies, and not by chance. The United States' incapacity to meet economic responsibilities (decreasing world market competitiveness with Japan and Germany) and political role (the Vietnamese war) led to the fall of the dollar. Artificially boosted by the Reaganite policy of high interest rates, the dollar lost ground again.
Undoubtedly inflation has its internal structural causes relating to the strategy of the monopolies to abandon price competition, and to the social order achieved through 'collective bargaining'. This is why inflation has continued to gallop since 1945. This inflation was bound sooner or later to bring a revaluation of gold, and the readjustment of exchange rates in keeping with the unequal distribution of those rates. But as long as the A phase (1945-70) was in effect, the overall structural balance (including, in general, the balance of payments; never mind the chronic invalid, Great Britain, sustained by the US boss for past services, and a few epidemic invalids in the Third World) ensured the operation of the world monetary system based on US hegemony. When the B phase began the system broke down. In a first phase (1965-80) rising inflation was at a trot, then a gallop, and its rate was increasingly unequal (from 7% to 30% a year); exchange rates fluctuated wildly; gold could no longer be pegged (from 1971) and the yellow metal rose from an official rate of US$ 35 to the ounce to a henceforth free market rate, around $600 to $700 to the ounce with some peaks of nearly $1.000; the crisis was then accompanied by a new phenomenon: stagflation. It serves no purpose to complain, as Robert Triffin does, of these factors: instability in exchange rates, inadequacy of reserves, the absence of machinery of adjustment: there is no monetarist cure for a disease that originates elsewhere than in the currency. Would the monetarists understand this? Since 1980 rises in domestic prices have been stifled by policies treating this control as an absolute priority, but at the cost of even more pronounced stagnation and a boost to financial speculation.
It must be supposed that there are mechanisms for adjustment. In the A phase there certainly are. This is why the IMF worked on the hypothesis that a country's deficit was due entirely to its national policy. But in the B phase the imbalance is structural and global, and the deficit of some has its counterpart in the surplus of others. It is no longer possible to blame these deficits on 'inadequate' national policies; they are the inevitable counterparts of surpluses that are no less difficult to reabsorb.
Regional or world monetary order - or monetary disorder - reflects the balance of power, or want of balance, between the developed capitalist countries, and not North-South relations; what has actually changed is relations between developed countries. Hence language such es 'specific needs of developing countries' (end the 'link') is ingenuous.
Is the threat of financial crash genuine? or only a bugbear? The failure of a great financial institution can always be avoided if the central bank prefers to come to its rescue (by nationalization) and accepts the ensuing inflation. In 1929 this option was impossible without suspending convertibility. This is not the case nowadays. Certainly the central bank of a given state may hesitate if it is acting alone, since the resulting acceleration of national inflation would weaken the standing of its currency in relation to others. But has the safeguard not already been put in place by the association in consortia of all the lender countries for any significant international loan? In this case the default of any significant borrower would threaten the entire system and the system therefore behaves with solidarity to avoid the crash.
But who are the borrowers? The countries of the East and the NlCs of the Third World. In fact loans provided for these countries are never called in for repayment; the structural surplus of the lenders would forbid this. These loans, even if not always destined for determinate investments, are the modern form of foreign investment. They are intended to show their return through interest payments. They are also used as a means of constant pressure to subject local policies to the wishes of monopoly capital. By the same token an exaction is made on the real income of the Third World. This is why the threat of a crash is more remote than might be thought. Either these countries will go on mortgaging their independence (and their income) through indefinite pursuit of this kind of development, and all will be well; or, through political change, they will refuse to repay and, as in previous historical situations, will be able to do so to the degree that they are subjected to reprisals driving them into national or collective autarky. In that case the central banks associated with the lending centres will come to the rescue of their own 'victims'.
The threat of a crash comes from elsewhere: the erratic flows of liquidities held by the transnationals (rather than by the oil-producer countries) and observing only the rules of short-term speculation. In this regard the supporters of floating exchange rates have acted to the advantage of the speculators, but to the detriment of the collective interest in avoiding disaster. Hence perhaps after so much infatuation with the Milton Friedman school, for reasons of ideological alienation linked to the neo-liberal revival, the West's monetary and political authorities have begun to revert to less foolish behaviour.
Of all regions of the Third World Africa shows the greatest number of attempts at development other than that arising spontaneously out of the worldwide expansion of capitalism. In a score of the 50 or so African states, at some time or other, and to a more or less radical degree, the authorities have declared an intention to 'break' with the colonial and neo-colonial past and embark on a new, national and radical path, an independent socialist development, whether this socialism was specific and particular (Arab or African) or declaredly scientific, Marxist, or Marxist-Leninist. According to circumstances, this declared break with the past has been made in heat, in the aftermath of the victory of the movement seizing independence, sometimes after a long and bitter war (Algeria, Angola, Cape Verde, Guinea-Bissau, Mozambique, Zimbabwe), or in the euphoria of gaining independence (Ghana, Guinea, Mali, Tanzania), or as a sequel to significant social and political changes (the overthrow of the Egyptian and Libyan monarchies), or as a result of anti-neocolonial popular movements (Benin, Burkina Faso, Congo, Madagascar, Uganda, Rawlings' Ghana). In most, if not all cases, the army has played a significant role in the political switch in question.
But Africa also reveals among these experiences a high proportion of dubious or unimpressive results, scarcely distinguishable from those achieved by the classic neo-colonial development of others. Neither the aim of economic liberation from dependence on the world capitalist system, to complement political liberation, nor of building a new society remote from that of the capitalist Third World, seem to have made sufficient progress as to reach a point where the process cannot be reversed. Furthermore, a reversal of the trend and a sometimes vociferous return to 'development' as the Western powers want it to be has occurred in a number of countries, whether as a result of a coup d't or of gradual drift. And, in today's crisis all, or virtually all, of them are severely threatened with being compelled to surrender to the dictates of the West.
A halt must be called to both sides of this equation.
World capitalist expansion has always been and continues to be divisive. From the outset it has caused and perpetuates a centre/periphery dichotomy inherent in currently existing capitalism. In this sense peripheral development has always been a story of perennial 'adjustment' to the demands and constraints of dominant capital. The centres are 'restructured', the peripheries are 'adjusted' to these new structures; never the reverse.
The violence of the effects of these successive adjustments, however, is not the same in every phase of the history of capitalism, since this worldwide expansion takes the form of a succession of long cycles (from 20 to 50 years) with alternating A phases of 'prosperity' end accelerated growth then B phases of structural crisis of the global system. During the A phases of prosperity 'adjustment' seems less difficult, or even palatable, for some countries: export demand rises at a high rate, capital is on offer and looking for a home, conflict is at a low ebb (the period is often a long one of relative peace) and so on. The adjustment amid general growth is certainly unequal. The periphery fulfils various roles in the global system and must be treated in the plural. There are 'rich' peripheries, of interest to the system at the stage in question, which supply products whose worldwide marketing is more on the increase than the products of others (as they are related to the key technological advances) and which in return provide markets of interest to capital and to the goods of the centre. The ease of their 'adjustment' encourages many illusions, such as those the World Bank and other ideological mainstays of capital have built up in regard to the NICs, although clearly the foreign debt their success engenders was not foreseen.
But there are also the 'left behind' of no interest to the characteristic structures of the system at the time. They have sometimes fulfilled a significant role at a past stage of the system's evolution, but have fallen out of favour. They become the 'fourth world', the 'less advanced', as if they were something new, when in reality they have always been a by-product of capitalist expansion. A sad but fine illustration of this former fourth world is the region of slavery in the America of the mercantilist period' north-east Brazil and the Caribbean (including Haiti). These regions were once regarded as 'prosperous', and they formed the heart of the periphery in the system of their day. Later the new structures of capitalist development marginalized the relative importance of these regions, and they are among the most appallingly wretched in the Third World of today. The history of capitalist expansion is not only that of the 'development' it has wrought, but also of the savage destruction on which it was constructed. There is within capitalism a destructive element that is too often omitted from the flattering image painted of the system.
In periods of harsh restructuring in the crisis (B phases are the moment of truth of the system's evolution) illusions fall away. The difficulties - whose menace has been denied - become the means by which dominant capital imposes its will. It is no longer a question of the fantasy of independence; the law of profit reminds the 'underdeveloped' of their fate: super-exploitation and submission. 'Recompradorization' is on the agenda, by every possible economic and financial means (nowadays the pressure exerted through the foreign debt and the food weapon), plus the political and military means (coups d't, interventions such as that of the armour represented by Zionism in the Middle East).
Africa holds a specially vulnerable place in this long succession of misfortunes that capitalist expansion has meant for the peoples of the periphery. Whole regions of the continent ravaged by the slave trade for the benefit of mercantilist capitalism have yet to recover from this early destruction. Colonization has carried on this toll of destruction of the continent. We have two clear examples.
The first is settler colonialism in North Africa (principally Algeria) and in East and Southern Africa (South Africa, Kenya and Zimbabwe). The current difficulties facing Algerian agriculture - the loss of rural population accelerated by the war - have part of their origin in the distant past. In Zimbabwe the high land appropriated by the whites leaving the Africans confined to meagre and inadequate reserves and obliging them to furnish cheap manpower - owe their apparent 'prosperity' to this exploitable manpower and to the waste they represent of the country's natural resources. The country's liberation has cast some light on the supposed 'success' of settler farming. But colonization has also bequeathed a problem that has still to be solved.
The second example is the plunder of land resources and the super-exploitation in areas of the colonial trade economy. Here, as was shown above, colonization secured a surplus at nil cost: without investment in intensified production methods (access to water, implements and mechanization, and so on), or agricultural research (except for some export crops, to the detriment of food crops). The surplus was undoubtedly modest in absolute terms, but a heavy burden on the peasantry and the country's future, through damage to the soil on which the trade was founded. Here, too, the current difficulties of African agriculture, even the famine in the Sahel, have origins in the distant past.
In truth Africa, in the heyday of the triumph of colonialism, occupied no more than a marginal role in the world system. Its essential role was as a mining reserve. Later, as independence and neo-colonialism came along, the plunder of agricultural land and mining royalties was not challenged, far from it. So neither the agricultural revolution nor industrialization have begun on a scale to respond to the demands of our day.
The discouraging prospect afforded Africa by capitalist expansion explains the frequency of the rejections and the high level of effort to 'do something else', to escape the simplistic logic of capitalism. But at the same time the objective conditions caused by this historical legacy make the task particularly difficult. This difficulty could be expressed in the formulation that the especially unfavourable external factor is combined with fairly unfavourable internal factors that have been largely shaped by that very external factor.
The response to the challenge of our age that we propose is celled 'delinking'. The concept is to some extent half of an equation 'adjustment or delinking'.
We shall not expand here on the theory of delinking but, to avoid any misunderstanding, say merely that delinking is not synonymous with autarky but only subjection of external relations to the logic of internal development (whereas adjustment means binding internal development to the possibilities afforded by the world system). In more precise terms, delinking is the refusal to submit to the demands of the worldwide law of value, or the supposed 'rationality' of the system of world prices that embody the demands of reproduction of worldwide capital. It, therefore, presupposes the society's capacity to define for itself an alternative range of criteria of rationality of internal economic options, in short a 'law of value of national application'.
What social forces may be the historical subject of this option of a break? The evidently almost tautological reply is that the forces can only be such as are victims of peripheral capitalist development and not its beneficiaries. Capitalist development as it stands not only has a global polarizing effect (by creating the centre-periphery dichotomy) but also polarizing effects within the societies of the periphery (as it does not have within the central capitalist societies). In other words, income distribution is more unequal at the periphery than at the centre, being relatively stable at the centre over time, but tending to increasing inequality with the development of the periphery. The result is that the 'privileged classes' have a genuine interest in pursuing capitalist expansion as it stands, despite the subordinate position accorded them in the system and sometimes perhaps their national 'frustration'. They do have conflicts with dominant capital, and these classes will sometimes cross swords with imperialism to improve their status within the system. But only to this extent. They will judge that in the last resort there is no 'advantage' (or they would say 'possibility') in delinking. This is what they are saying day after day with their declaration of inevitable 'interdependence' ('we are all in the same boat', and so forth). The character of these privileged classes has also undergone historical evolution. Recently the dominant element of the local bloc allied to imperialism was often constituted by an oligarchy of great landowners (in Latin America, India, China, Egypt, for example) or by chiefdoms (in Africa). The national independence movement was obliged to stand against this bloc and replaced it with a new one dominated by new classes of a bourgeois character (local industrial and finance bourgeoisies, bourgeoisies of rich peasants, state bourgeoisies, and so on), and generally an industrialist force. This by no means insignificant shift of world social alliances has gone alongside a global restructuring of the system, since the worldwide social alliances, by their nature, define the appropriate structure for the stage of capitalist development attained.
The privileged classes in question form a minority in the societies of the periphery, a minority ranging from negligible (I or 2% of the population) to more substantial (10 to 25%). As for the popular classes victimized by capitalist expansion, they have varying status and by virtue of the character of the expansion tend not to be homogenized or reduced to a single model. These include the poor peasantries (in the plural), the working classes, the urbanized jobless peasants in the shanty-towns, the former (artisan) and new (lower ranks) petty bourgeoisies. With the further point that peripheral capitalist development, with its centrifugal tendency, is an obstacle to national crystallization and tends even to disrupt the old nations where they exist, it can be seen that there are numerous additional reasons for division in the camp of the popular forces: ethnicity and dialects, religions, and - particularly marked in Africa - artificial frontiers bequeathed by colonization and balkanization.
Delinking implies a 'popular' consent, that is anti-capitalist in the sense that it is in conflict with dominant capitalism but shot through by a multiplicity of divergent interests (aside from the anti-system convergence) of various fractions constituting the population in question. This is why we argue that the 'post-capitalist' period will be a very long historical phase marked by permanent conflict between three poles determining the society's internal trends, local capitalism (responding to the needs shown by the development of the forces of production), socialism (expressing the anti-capitalist aspirations of the mass of the people), and statism (produced by the autonomy of the authorities in the light of capitalist and socialist forces and expressing at the same time the aspirations of the new class in control of the state). The conflicting balance of these tendencies is itself clearly variable according to particular circumstances and the rhythm of evolution.
A social force is essential to cement the popular alliance, overcome its internal conflicts, formulate the alternative national and popular plan, lead the popular bloc in hoisting itself into power, build the new state and arbitrate the conflicts shown above as characteristic of the long national and popular transition. This is the task of the revolutionary intelligentsia, the 'organic intellectual', responding to the objective demand of our day. It is a category peculiar to the situation of the peripheries in the capitalist system, with no resemblance to the problematic of the 'petty bourgeoisie' (e confused class as always) or of the 'one party' born out of national liberation, or of the role of intellectuals as a channel of expression for various social classes.
Evidently in these historical circumstances, at least two fundamental issues are posed for the intelligentsia and people's power: democracy and the cultural content of the societal plan.
As far as the cultural aspect is concerned we should state here that the challenge is not answered by superficial Westernization of the compradorized strata following the consumerist model of the developed world (this transmission of the consumerist model is just the tip of the cultural iceberg), or its apparent opposite - but really identical twin - the culturalist nationalisms on which the so-called religious fundamentalisms feed. The dual impasse to which either of these options leads is an indication of the genuine complexity of the plan.
The only relevant consideration is what faces the option of national and popular delinking in contemporary Africa, for good or ill. The absolutely first requirement in material action is a development of the forces of production and a raising of living standards of the great mass through a dual agricultural and industrial revolution, for which colonization has done no groundwork.
Has it been realized that the European agricultural revolution occurred in a world where the concomitant population explosion was controlled through the escape-valve of massive emigration? Europe at the time populated all of the US and other parts of the world. Without this escape-valve the population to be supported by Western and central Europe would have been some three times larger (since the 400 million Europeans of today would have been supplemented by the 800 millions across the Atlantic who are of emigrant descent). The modern Third World with its population explosion does not have this option of expanding outwards. Furthermore, modern industry is incapable of absorbing the internal migration from countryside to the towns at the rate possible at the time of the European industrial revolution. It is essential, therefore, to find technological and social prescriptions for genuine progress that for a long while to come holds the majority of the population in the rural areas of origin, where this is still possible, or finds ways of useful employment for the urbanized poor masses.
Clearly the national liberation movement, rightly focusing in its early stages on the preliminary winning of simple political independence, was not fully aware of the extent and scale of the challenge. This cannot be held against it, but we must be aware that the glorious page of history it wrote is over. A re-examination of the past does not excuse the present. We must be patient. We must be aware that the first wave of national liberation is spent, and that the forces entrusted with the second wave - with its national and popular content have not yet been assembled around an adequate alternative plan. We are passing through a trough in the wave, shown by this disarray and intellectual and political surrender.
The various studies of African radical experience show both the extent of the problems to tee 'resolved' and the limitations of the conceptions held by the national-radical state.
The past 30 years have been punctuated with debates on these issues. It is worth highlighting here the debate on the so-called 'non-capitalist path', which had its moments of glory in the 1960s when Nasserism was at its height and Nkrumahist pan-Africanism had not been stifled in the gradual crystallization of new African states. It is also worth highlighting what, in the jargon of African progressive intellectuals, is called the 'Dar-es-Salaam debate', which in the ealy 1 970s tried to focus on the issue of building socialism in Africa. But this is not the place to assess these arguments that have never ceased.
Along with the efforts and attempts in the national context, Africa has been the stage for a significant series of regional co-operation plans, whether the 'common market 'kind (Economic Community of West Africa, of East African States, the Arab and Maghrebi common markets), or 'common concerns' kind (the Southern Africa Development Coordination Conference in the face of South Africa), or financial support (Afro-Arab co-operation). We shall return to these issues in Chapter 6.
1. See Samir Amin's contributions to Amin, Samir. Faire. Alexandre, Hussein, Mahmoud and Massiah, Gustave, La crise de l'impalisme, Paris, Minuit, 1975, and Amin S., Arrighi G., Frank A. G, and Wallerstein 1., Dynamics of Global Crisis. New York. Monthly Review Press, and London, Macmillan. 1982. Amin, Samir and Frank. Andre Gunder. N'attendons pas 1984. Paris. Maspero 1985.
2. Amin, Samir, 'Il y a trente ans. Bandung', Cairo. UNU, 1985.
3. Amin, Samir, 'Perestroika and Glasnost', 1988. (in Arabic).
4. Amin, Samir, 'Dloppement et transformations structurelles', Tiers Monde, No. 51, 1972: 'CNUCED III. Un bilan', Bulletin of Peace Proposals. No. 3. 1972, Oslo: 'UNCTAD IV and the New International Economic Order', Africa Development, CODESRIA, Dakar, No. 1, 1976; 'A propos du NOEI, et de l'avenir des relations nomiques internationales'. Africa Development. No. 4, 1978; 'A propos du rapport de la commission Brandt', Africa Development, No. 3. 1980. See too references in Delinking, London, Zed Books, 1989.
5. OAU-ECA. The Lagos Action Plan. Addis Ababa, 1980; see too, the ECA's preparatory documents.
6. Mahjoub, Azzam, et al., Adjustment or Delinking: The African Experience, and Amin, Samir, Delinking.