In My Own Time

by Jeremy Thorpe

  Next, we call for stronger measures to bring down the regime. It is plain that Mr Wilson, in company with that proconsular figure Mr Bottomley, having virtually guaranteed a rebellion by announcing in advance that in almost no circumstances would Britain intervene to prevent it, has been proved to have misjudged and misplanned his subsequent policies to end it! Had there been better contingency planning at the outset, the Smith regime might today be a short-lived memory, and we would certainly not have had to rely upon the brilliant diplomacy of the Liberal Prime Minister of Canada to prevent the Commonwealth itself from disintegrating completely.

  At present we are set on a course of sanctions. But sanctions are valueless unless they are effective; they cannot be effective unless they are enforceable. The logic of this is surely self-evident except to those Conservatives who support sanctions provided they are not likely to hurt.

  At present oil is flowing into Rhodesia from South Africa and Mozambique; Rhodesian chrome has crossed the Atlantic; 30 per cent of the tobacco crop has been sold, with buyers drawn from no less than four of our NATO partners. However, in one context, sanctions have been supremely effective. On 9 April last the British government sought powers from the Security Council which in consequence ‘calls upon the government of the United Kingdom to prevent by the use of force if necessary the arrival at Beira of vessels reasonably believed to be carrying oil destined for Rhodesia, and empowers the United Kingdom to arrest and detain the tanker, namely the Joanna V, upon departure from Beira in the event of oil being discharged there’. In this context therefore HMG has already threatened the use of force – and its very credibility off the coast of Mozambique has ensured that no resort has had to be made to the use of such force – nor indeed is it likely. It has even enabled HMG to stop payment of £50,000 per month to Lonhro, the British pipeline-owning company, in return for their not pumping oil to Rhodesia.

  Force is an emotional word, and it is the duty of a responsible party to define what we mean by it. It does not of necessity involve mounting an operation calling for the deployment of troops and resulting in the shedding of blood. I believe – and fervently hope – that both can be avoided. There are at least two preferable alternatives.

  First, HMG should now apply to the United Nations for mandatory sanctions under Article 42 of the Charter to cover all of Rhodesia’s major imports and exports. It should then become the responsibility of an international naval task force to exercise the same right of search on the high seas as was adopted by the Allies during the war in respect of vessels making for neutral ports to ensure that they were not carrying cargo intended ultimately to fall into hostile hands. It should also be illegal for the ships of any nation to carry goods originating from Rhodesia. It may well be asked whether South Africa would herself use force to resist any such action. Well, faced with the determination of the world to end the illegal Smith regime; bound by a decision of the United Nations of which she is a member; realising that she exports £200 million worth of goods annually to the United Kingdom alone; compelled to provide naval escorts from the port of any exporting country to the South African port of arrival as the only guarantee of immunity from search; it would be for South Africa to decide whether this was a price she would be prepared to pay to maintain the Smith regime which the world was dedicated to bringing down.

  But this is not all: there are only four routes through which supplies can reach Rhodesia – three by rail and one by road. The main supply of oil now travels on the rail line which crosses the border at Malvernia. If that supply were to continue it might be necessary to consider whether, with the backing of a United Nations resolution, it might be feasible for that line of communication to be nipped on Rhodesian soil by the use of high-flying planes, under United Nations command. It would merely involve the extension of the same degree of force as has already been provided for by the United Nations to prevent the Beira blockade being breached at sea. It would in particular exclude any international repercussions and would not involve the use of troops or the loss of blood.

  Ultimately what will count is the determination of this country that sanctions will succeed and that Smith will be brought down. Once that has become plain, then the Prime Minister can with justification talk of ending the rebellion in weeks, not months, without the need for aerial intervention.

  It will then be our responsibility, to quote the Commonwealth communique, to ensure that Rhodesia is based in the future on a ‘multi-racial society in which human and political rights will be vested in all the people without discrimination and in accordance with the true principles of democracy’.

  We are now writing the last major chapter in a long imperial history. Are we to allow it to be said that at that stage we destroyed the multi-racial Commonwealth which we had created; that we appeared to reverse our belief in a non-racial society; that we abdicated our responsibilities towards the four million Africans living in Rhodesia, all because we were too weak in resources and determination to prevent 200,000 people from setting up illegally a political system based on racial discrimination in its every aspect?

  I cannot believe that that is the course of Britain. But if that is to be our fate then we lose not only the respect of the world, but worse, our own self-respect.

  Background to the speech

  All the information I was getting from South Africa suggested that the authorities there were anxious to take stock of the determination of the UK government to render sanctions effective. They were particularly interested in the supply of oil, which would come almost exclusively via them, and whilst they were prepared, if possible, to prop up a white minority government on their doorstep, they were not prepared to face the possibility of retaliatory oil embargoes being inflicted on them.

  The railway line in question was in the middle of a desert, and bombing it would cause no risk to life or limb. It could no doubt be repaired very swiftly but a repeat performance would probably not be necessary to bring South Africa into line. Those of us who backed sanctions felt it was the best way of avoiding armed conflict, and it is sad to think that in retrospect there are people who regard it as an outrageous suggestion, whereas the alternative – force – produced 20,000 casualties ending UDI. My point was proved when, some years after the independence of Zimbabwe, the South African-backed Renamo terrorists based in Mozambique destroyed the railway line carrying oil to Zimbabwe, and within three days Harare was almost brought to its knees.

  The next time I visited Rhodesia I had the experience of watching Rhodesian television news. The propaganda ploy was that I had advocated bombing city centres and men, women and children! I was shown complete with Nixon-type five o’clock shadow! As the result of this propaganda I was named as Prohibited Immigrant No. 8 by the Smith regime. Rhodesia gained its independence in April 1980 and on my first visit to the newly named nation I asked Mr Mugabe, the new Prime Minister, if I could have a copy of my banning order.

  Kariba Dam

  In 1967, when I was on business in Zambia, I was staying in Lusaka with my colleague, Anthony Mitchley, a white Zambian with whom I had been an undergraduate at Oxford. I asked him one Sunday whether he would drive me down to see the massive Kariba Dam, which had created a lake 175 miles long on the Zambesi River in Southern Rhodesia.

  Apart from the fascination of the dam itself and the lake, I was interested to see what security arrangements existed. There had often been wild talk about some extremist lunatics destroying the wall of the dam (which seemed pretty indestructible) or wrecking the pumping station. My assessment was that if the wall of the dam were to be broken, it would wash away thousands of miles of topsoil and leave a vast desert, to say nothing of the loss of life in the area – hundreds of square miles – within its destructive powers.

  We duly arrived at the main gate and were the only traffic about. Tony was slightly apprehensive. I asked the guard on duty: Who is in charge of security today? and was given the name of the officer involved. I asked the guard to telephone him at o
nce to present my compliments and to say that Mr Thorpe was on his way up to the office. The gates swung open and we were on our way.

  The chief of security was waiting for me, and gave me a warm welcome. I told him that I was not an engineer but would very much like to get a general idea of what was involved in this miraculous project. He took me up on the roof, which was guarded by a platoon of soldiers, and from there we got a superb view of the sheer scale of the dam and lake. I gathered that the force and speed with which the water fell had gouged a huge hole in the lower side of the dam, equivalent in depth to the drop of the fall.

  On our way down to the pumping station, the security officer asked me if I would mind waiting for a few moments, as he had an important telephone call to make. He came back and asked me for my Christian name, which I told him. ‘In that case, I’m afraid I must order you to leave the premises at once, on instructions from Salisbury [the capital].’ We withdrew, but I felt reassured that the threat of sabotage in the future was unlikely in the extreme.

  Nkomo: should we form a Rhodesian government in exile?

  Should we spring him from prison? Should we form a government in exile? In 1971 there was a very real fear that the constitutional settlement for Rhodesia negotiated between Smith and Home would be foisted on the Africans against their will. At the same, time, there appeared in the British press a photograph of the leading African politician, Joshua Nkomo behind the barbed wire at Gonakudzingwa prison camp near the Mozambique border. It occurred to me that if the press could get that close, so likewise could a group of commandos!

  Would there be a case for springing Joshua Nkomo and flying him out of the country to form a government-in-exile? At that stage, he was probably the only African nationalist with the authority to influence Her Majesty’s Government in a more determined direction. The first requisite would be to consult the front-line states surrounding Rhodesia, and this I did. The replies were sufficiently favourable to justify taking the project a stage further. I took the matter up at a fairly high level with the Israelis. I pointed out that, additional to the Africans’ cause, Israel herself was surrounded by countries hostile to her continued existence, and by associating herself with the movement of African independence, she could gain the friendship of Africans everywhere.

  We decided we needed to establish whether there was an airstrip suitable for a jet or four-seater plane or helicopter to land near the prison. We needed to assess the disposition of the prison guards and the best way to dismantle the radio and telephone links which the prison had with the outside world. Here again the response was sufficiently favourable to justify taking things further. In September 1971, Judy Todd, daughter of Garfield Todd, one-time Prime Minister of Southern Rhodesia, and now under restriction on his farm, and Judy’s husband, Richard Acton, came to see me in my room in the House of Commons. I outlined my plan to them.

  The next vital requisite was to learn Joshua’s reaction. The idea was to spring him from prison, fly him to Francistown in Botswana, on to Lusaka in Zambia and either direct to the United Nations in New York or to the UK. There would be some delicacy about the timing of the announcement of the government in exile. If Nkomo declared the creation of such a government in the UK, would the British government prevent him from going to New York? Conversely, if he made a declaration in New York, would the British government prevent him from entering the UK? Judy, who was to be in charge of the Francistown location, was enthusiastic. She subsequently consulted Josiah Chinamano, Joshua’s deputy, who had just been released from Gonakudzingwa, to find out Joshua’s reactions. Chinamano informed her that some women were shortly to visit the prison and would report back. Joshua’s reaction was one of gratitude but he insisted that he would not come out and leave his colleagues behind. They must all come out together. Alas, our capacity was a maximum of six, depending on what sort of aeroplane was used. Interestingly, Joshua said that there was now a spokesman for the Africans in the shape of a bishop called Muzorewa. The bishop was prepared to put the African case but wished to stand down when the African nationalists were released and could campaign themselves. The fact that Muzorewa subsequently clung to power partly accounted for the bitterness which Nkomo and Mugabe felt towards him. In short, the rescue operation was abandoned. Chinamano and Judy Todd were both arrested and assumed that the details of the jailbreak project had been discovered. Happily, no details ever leaked out. This is probably the first occasion that the matter has been mentioned.

  Flying down to Salisbury

  My last visit to Rhodesia during UDI was in January 1975. Marion and I were taking a few days off in Mombasa, where we had a fascinating meeting with Jomo Kenyatta, President of Kenya. As we left we saw waiting in the garden outside his office three Africans – Joseph Savimbi, Holden Roberto and Agostinho Neto. They were the three leading figures in Angola, which was in turmoil following the departure of the Portuguese rulers. If Kenyatta’s influence could make them work together, Angola could become the richest country in black Africa. Kenyatta attempted to get a measure of cooperation between them, but tragically civil war raged in that country for many years to come.

  Jim Callaghan, then Foreign Secretary, was touring Africa, and I thought it was only courteous to let him know that following a planned visit to Zambia, I proposed to go down to Salisbury from Lusaka to find out the current political situation as a freelance. He naturally would be unable to visit Rhodesia whilst it was in a state of rebellion against the Crown. He tried to dissuade me on the grounds that it might raise false hopes amongst the Rhodesia Front. I thought this was unlikely and decided to try to make the journey.

  From Lusaka I telephoned Roy Welensky in Salisbury, asking him what would be my chances of being allowed into the country to see Ian Smith and those African nationalists not in detention. I indicated that if my entry were permitted, I would charter a plane from Lusaka to Salisbury. He expressed extreme surprise, and said he would enquire, but was not hopeful about consent being given, since I was a prohibited immigrant.

  When I rang him back, he said that for some unknown reason the authorities had agreed, provided that the press was not alerted and that the visit was kept secret. The plane on arrival was to taxi into an aircraft hangar, and transport would be arranged from there. I readily agreed but the cat was out of the bag when it so happened that a photographer of the Rhodesia Herald was taking a flying lesson and was visiting the control tower when we drew into the hangar. ‘Isn’t that Jeremy Thorpe?’ he exclaimed, and the press was alerted and on the hunt. We managed to get to Ken Mew’s house at the Education Centre in Salisbury without being followed. There I met and had a session with the Reverend Sithole, one of the very few African nationalist leaders out of prison, along with some of his colleagues. He confirmed what I already knew, that opposition to the independence of Southern Rhodesia on a limited franchise based on white supremacy was as profound as ever, and that the white minority regime was becoming more and more repressive towards anyone holding such views.

  Before I left Ken Mew’s Centre, I thought I would telephone Garfield Todd, who had been the last ‘liberal’ Prime Minister of Southern Rhodesia, now confined on his farm. I got through to his wife, Grace, to say that I was ringing to wish Garfield well, and to tell him that he was not forgotten. She told me that she knew that he would love to speak to me, but was forbidden to talk on the telephone by the restrictions. I told her that I planned to be at Ian Smith’s office at five o’clock that afternoon and would telephone Garfield from there between 4.30 and 5 p.m.

  My next talks were with Ian Smith and several members of his Cabinet. I told him that whilst I was relieved to see that interim agreement had been reached between the Zambian and Rhodesian negotiators on eight points, there seemed to be a genuinely held difference of opinion as to the interpretation of these points. Would it not be advisable to have a reconvened meeting with, say, one person per side to try and reach agreement as to what the new agreement really meant? Mr Smith’s reply was revealing:
‘I am not aware of the existence of such points’. I pointed out that it was not often that the Zambian and Rhodesian newspapers carried the same story, but today’s editions of The Times of Zambia and the Rhodesian Herald, referring to the eight points as the lead story, had done precisely that. Mr Smith replied: ‘Well, I’ve been away on my farm’. I was not certain whether he expected me to swallow that, but in the unlikely event of my having believed him, it would have been a devastating indictment of his contact with day-to-day affairs.

  At the conclusion of our meeting, I asked whether it would be in order to telephone Garfield Todd at his farm, ‘Well’, said Mr Smith, ‘this is a free country, there is freedom to communicate unless there are specific reasons to the contrary’. He asked the Permanent Secretary to put through a call. He duly returned, somewhat embarrassed, saying that there were long delays to Shabani and it was unlikely that I would be able to get through before my plane took off. I replied that Shabani had gone on to automatic dialling that very morning, which had enabled me to get through instantly, and I had spoken to his wife; as to my plane, there was agreement with the airport authorities that I could leave at any reasonable hour and I had previously arranged to leave two hours hence. Was it permissible to speak to Garfield Todd?

  The Permanent Secretary disappeared, and reappeared to say that it was not possible to speak to Garfield Todd, since he was under a Restriction Order. ‘In that case’, I said, ‘I must ring Mrs Todd to explain that I was unable to speak to her husband, who has been awaiting my call’. I duly put through the call, which was answered by Grace Todd. I said that I was ringing from Ian Smith’s office, and would she apologise to Garfield about my inability to speak to him, which I had just learnt, and to say that he was not forgotten. I heard laughter in the background, which was Garfield registering the situation.