by Ian Smith
For a few months there had been stories that Wilson was once again thinking of talking to us. This would be no problem for him, owing to his facility for changing sides while giving the appearance of remaining constant. One minute, in the presence of his Afro-Asian friends, I was the greatest evil on earth and he was not prepared to communicate with me. But when convenient, he would change his tune and say I was the only reasonable one on the scene, being pressurised by my cabinet colleagues. So it came as no surprise when he decided on 13 June 1967 to send Lord Alport on a visit to Salisbury for an exchange of views. According to our information, Wilson was motivated by reports that sanctions were not working, and the British economy was heading for the doldrums. We were not impressed by Alport, who had served in Salisbury for a time during Federation. Nevertheless, he had a busy time from 24 June on, and in his report gave the assessment that not only were sanctions proving ineffective, but that with the passage of time they would become even less effective. Moreover, he furnished Wilson with information which the Labour Party found most depressing: the fact that he found the majority of black people just as anxious as the whites for Britain to come to a settlement with our government. This was at the end of July.
Our Finance Minister, John Wrathall, confirmed to me the healthy state of our economy, and he made public figures indicating that British exports to Rhodesia were still surprisingly high, in spite of sanctions. ‘One can only conclude,’ he said, ‘that the British government are adjusting their figures to bamboozle their Afro-Asian friends, or that they do not know what is going on in their own back yard. It seems to me that Mr Wilson and his ministers are now being forced to adopt the tactics used by bankrupt governments the world over. They have to keep Rhodesia on the front page of the newspapers in order to divert attention from the increasing economic chaos into which Britain has been led by their socialist policies.’ For good measure Wrathall added Mr Simbule’s humiliating jibe — the above-named gentleman had been appointed Zambia’s ambassador to Britain, and commenting on his new post, he described Britain as ‘a humbled, toothless bulldog wagging its tail in front of Ian Smith and fearing him like hell’. The acceptance of an ambassador is always subject to approval by the government concerned, and there are cases on record where the appointee has been turned down as undesirable. Certainly, no aspiring ambassador to Rhodesia would have survived such an insult. But Mr Simbule was welcomed in London with open arms!
Another encouraging report came from the Commissioner of Police, indicating a large decrease in the overall number of crime cases — in some branches the reduction was in excess of 50 per cent. Terrorist incursions were on the increase, and the count was approaching 200, but they had all been accounted for, killed or captured. An interesting new development was the capture, in August 1967, of a small band of South Africans moving through Wankie game reserve on their way to Botswana and thence to South Africa. We handed those over to the South Africans, who were happy to have information as to where they were receiving their training, and the numbers involved. The beneficial spin-off for us was that the South Africans became even more cooperative with their assistance and this led to a South African police presence helping to guard the border along the Zambezi. One of our MPs even made the claim that there was evidence to prove that the British government was supplying arms to the terrorists. This provoked South African Minister Ben Schoeman to say that, if this were true, it would have serious repercussions, and he asked for a British response. They issued a denial.
Early in August, Gibbs informed me that he had received a message from Wilson indicating that he was thinking about more talks. Neither of us was surprised, but throughout the country there was a growing feeling not all that amenable to the idea, since things were going fairly well and we would surely be better off without an agreement of the kind the British were looking for. Moreover, distrust of Wilson and the Labour Party was such that Rhodesians were hoping to avoid contact with them. So at our Rhodesian Front congress, which took place in September, not surprisingly there was a resolution calling for no more talks. While in my heart I sympathised with this feeling, thinking of the long term I knew that we should keep trying. I had always found the bulk of Rhodesians to be reasonable and logical, even under pressure, and the congress agreed with my thinking. But Wilson got the message that it was not going to be a bed of roses.
A message came through Gibbs on 10 October that George Thomson, the new Commonwealth Secretary, was making a trip to Africa in October and it was suggested that he visit Salisbury. En route he stopped over in Uganda, where there was a Commonwealth Parliamentary Association meeting, and was taken aback at the hostility directed against him and Britain there. Instead of finding himself among friends, as he had thought, he was in the front line of fire from the ‘wild boys’ who believed that by now the British should have invaded Rhodesia. Milton Obote, President of Uganda, expressed the view that Britain should be expelled from the Commonwealth. However, when it was pointed out to him that without Britain’s financial support the association would be insolvent, he changed his mind.
Thomson was a pleasant enough, quiet-spoken Scot, not the kind to stir up problems, but a ‘new boy’, unsure of himself, who would certainly make no decisions. We talked at length on 8 November. He assured me of his dedication to solving our problem, and that he would report back accurately to Wilson. We decided, at his request, that our talks should remain confidential until mutually agreed otherwise. Wilson endorsed this publicly on 7 December, saying: ‘I do not believe that anyone who wants these talks to succeed would want to destroy any hope by premature publication.’ Five days later, however, the details were published — I was informed only after the event. It was of little consequence to me, because I had nothing to hide, but it was an indication of the people with whom we were dealing. I quoted from a comment made earlier in the year by Lord Shawcross, a former Labour Party Attorney General, who spoke after a visit to America, saying: ‘The leadership of Britain is utterly discredited. Almost every pledge the Prime Minister has made has been broken. The feeling of distrust of the government is now felt throughout the country and abroad.’
For a while Wilson seemed to be scheming about how to extricate himself from his predicament, but the Conservatives were keeping up the pressure to reopen negotiations. As there was no response from their government they decided to send Alec Douglas-Home to Salisbury at the end of February 1968. He spent almost a week holding discussions with a broad cross-section of people, and returned to London with the firm impression that there was positive evidence in favour of a resumption of talks. Although there were signs that this was in keeping with Wilson’s thinking, the last thing he was going to do was to give the Conservatives any credit for it. So he withdrew even further into his shell.
Meanwhile, we simply got on with our normal business in a country where things were quiet and peaceful, and the threats and admonitions of Wilson and his cronies simply ignored. We had realised from the outset that acceptance of our legality by our courts would take time, and there was no thought from our government that we should in any way attempt to influence this. Rhodesians had always been meticulous in their acceptance of the principles of maintaining justice and abiding by the codes of honesty and decent behaviour. Sometimes these may be inconvenient and uncomfortable, but that was part of life if one believed in civilised standards. It was important that the rest of the world should know that this was not just another banana republic, with politicians arranging things to suit their own convenience.
One of the most sacred principles of Western Christian civilisation was the independence of an impartial judiciary, and as far as we were concerned, this was absolutely sacrosanct. It would probably take a couple of years, we were told — and in fact it took a bit longer — before the final decision was given by our Appellate Division. On 13 September 1968, Chief Justice Sir Hugh Beadle said, in a logical and balanced decision, that the courts had found themselves in a position where they were no longer a
ble adequately to perform their duties. Unless the judges recognised the Rhodesian government there could be no rule of law in Rhodesia. According to British law, revenue raised and payment of civil service salaries had been illegal for the past two and a half years. The current government were in effective control, and there were no signs of internal dissent. In fact, recent by-elections had confirmed support for them. ‘In this situation this Court, if it carries on at all, can only carry on as a court taking cognisance of the fact that the present Government is now the de jure Government and the 1965 constitution the only valid constitution, which this Court now proceeds to do.’
In a nutshell, the court’s decision identified the absurdity of the British government’s position. They were bluffing themselves that they had powers which in fact were non-existent. Their only achievements had been in persuading the UN and certain Afro-Asian countries to support resolutions designed to change the economy and security of the country, to the particular detriment of the large mass of the community, whom the British claimed to be protecting.
It is of interest to record that, when the Commons debated in June Wilson’s action in promoting sanctions at the UN, the Conservatives launched a telling attack with Alec Home accusing their government of openly encouraging terrorism against Rhodesia, and Patrick Wall referring to: ‘a vile order being imposed at the behest of the UN against our own people’.
Although the resolution was approved in the Commons, it was rejected by the Lords, giving an indication of the strong feelings in favour of Rhodesia prevalent at the time. What was particularly galling, not only to Rhodesians, but to all fair-minded people, was the pettiness and spitefulness of the Labour Party politicians: they impounded the passports of a number of Britishers living in Rhodesia who had distinguished themselves by serving Britain, one of whom had been knighted for his governorship in Uganda, Sir Frederick Crawford. A young schoolboy had his Rhodesian passport confiscated when visiting his grandmother in England, and a Rhodesian holder of the Victoria Cross was denied entry to attend the centenary celebration of the order. Sporting contacts with Rhodesia were banned, but it stands to the credit of the British Lions rugby team that they were not prepared to cancel their game in Salisbury during their South African Tour. It was a warm feeling to know that there were some sportsmen in the world who had the courage to stand up to the politicians and tell them to keep their noses out of sport. It was this kind of behaviour from the British government which made more and more Rhodesians wonder whether it was worthwhile trying to retain links with a country prepared to descend to such levels.
We were soon confronted by another event which reflected on the British government’s policy on terrorism. The biggest incursion to date commenced at the beginning of 1968, with the terrorists taking their time, planning carefully, moving by night, and confining themselves to the tribal areas where they could evade contact with white people. Not only were their intimidatory tactics against the tribesmen merciless and effective, but they were also putting into effect their Marxist-Leninist psychological tactics, in which they had been well drilled. They were telling the locals that their plan was to take away all the good things from the white people and hand them over to the blacks. Simple people, who inhabit remote areas and have no comprehension of what is going on in the world around them, are easy targets for communists. The terrorists established their main camp some eighty kilometres inside the country above the escarpment overlooking the Zambezi valley, in mountainous, well-wooded country, with much grass for additional cover. They established a number of underground dug-outs in which they lived and kept the equipment and arms that they were storing for attacks against the commercial farming areas lying further south. In spite of all their precautions, however, they should have realised that it was only a matter of time before they would be discovered. A game ranger passing through the area noticed an unusual bootprint on the ground, which from his description was soon identified as being of Chinese origin. The alarm was sounded, and a reconnaissance planned. This turned out to be a rewarding exercise, for although the terrorists were well dug in and put up some resistance, they were eventually rooted out and over one hundred killed. They had built up a considerable amount of equipment, arms, clothing and food, of both Russian and Chinese origin. In spite of denials from the British, we were satisfied with the accuracy of our report from Lusaka that their High Commission had been aiding and abetting the terrorist cause with travel documents and finance.
The next event of consequence was the appearance on the scene, in June 1968, of my old friend Max Aitken, son of Lord Beaverbrook, one of Churchill’s great supporters and a cabinet minister during Second World War. Max had succeeded his father as chairman of Beaverbrook Newspapers, and I had maintained a contact with him that stemmed from our flying association in Egypt during the war. The Daily Express and Sunday Express had always adopted a realistic and honest approach to the Rhodesian problem.
Max was deeply concerned over the tragic mishandling of the affair, and believed that even the Conservatives were not without blame. This came out in a discussion with his legal adviser, Lord Goodman, who also happened to be Wilson’s lawyer. This led to an approach being made to Wilson, by now amenable to a possible breakthrough over Rhodesia, especially as another Commonwealth prime ministers’ conference was looming in the New Year. Anything which would help to divert attention from all the local problems which were closing in on the government was worthy of consideration. So Aitken and Goodman arrived in Salisbury, with Wilson’s blessing, on the understanding that the visit was to be kept secret — even Governor Gibbs would not be put in the picture. It was difficult to keep Goodman under cover, because he was a large man, both in height and mass, with prominent features and large, husky, black eyebrows, dressed in the dark suit associated with members of the British legal profession. But surprisingly, they got away with it, staying for four days. Nobody picked this up. Our discussions were constructive and subjected to incisive analysis by the clear, well-trained legal brain of a man who was highly rated by his profession in Britain. Both men had no difficulty in comprehending the problem and discerning the best means of dealing with it. But as I explained to them before their departure, Wilson constantly had a bogey-man leaning over his shoulder in the shape of the African members of the Commonwealth, whose irrational approach paid no consideration to the best intents of the inhabitants of Rhodesia, but were obsessed by the racial approach of driving the white man and his Western civilisation out of sub-Saharan Africa. Nevertheless, both Goodman and Aitken believed that the case was so clear, the solution so obvious, and above all honest and just, that they could convince Wilson. From past experience I had my doubts, but I wished them well.
Surprisingly, they seemed to have won the first round, for Wilson, as a follow-up, sent one of their top officials, James Bottomley (no relation to Arthur), for consultations with me on 20 September. The visit once again underlined our differences and I made it clear that I could not change on the major points, so I was doubtful whether anything had been achieved. But I was wrong, Wilson thought otherwise.
In the interim, on 5 September, we held the most controversial annual congress in the history of the Rhodesian Front. Over the past couple of years we had devoted much time to the creation of a new constitution for our country, bringing in changes to meet the circumstances of the time. The government had set up a commission composed of blacks and whites under the chairmanship of W.R. Whaley, one of the country’s most eminent lawyers, and after interviews across the broad spectrum of all our population groups, they produced a well-reasoned report. But there were many others who wanted to be in on the act, so our caucus set up their own committee, and our party had their committee, and there were others, too. We looked at them all and out of a great deal of honest effort produced the final paper for presentation to our congress.
However, there had developed a strong right-wing backlash, stoked by the treachery and vindictiveness of the British government, and these pe
ople believed that the answer was to produce a racially divisive constitution and break off all contact with the British government. Feelings were running high, and on the eve of the congress, a number of my close, loyal supporters expressed concern that we might lose the vote on our proposed constitution. I was not complacent, because there were a couple of my cabinet colleagues, in addition to a few constituency chairmen, who were openly opposing us, and a considerable amount of emotion was being generated. My reply was that we had, in complete honesty, produced a constitution which we believed was right for our country and all its people, and I was confident that we would win the day. As we all knew, the vast majority of the MPs supported us, and if by some chance the hotheads did succeed in dominating the congress, then my inclination would be to hold a general election, which there was no doubt in my mind that we would win. They all agreed and were satisfied.
That night at home I discussed it with Janet and we both agreed that in no way were we going to deviate from those ideals in which we honestly believed. There were too many politicians in the world ready to say: ‘These are our principles, but if you do not like them we can change them for you.’ If need be, we would be perfectly happy to go back to ‘Gwenoro’ and do some farming. It always gave me much satisfaction to know that I was not in politics in order to make a living and that consequently I did not have to keep my job at all costs. And here I touch on one of the weaknesses of our democratic system: representatives are always looking over their shoulders and compromising on their true beliefs in order to win votes, a process which produces politicians who are followers, not leaders.