by Ian Smith
In any case, the desirability of decentralisation of government in a country where there are so many different peoples, tribes with different languages, even nations, is so obvious that it was difficult to credit that any intelligent assessment could oppose the concept, unless, of course, the intention was to concentrate power in the hands of a dictator. Perhaps I should reconcile myself to the fact that I lived in Africa, the continent of one-party states, where once you become the government you remain the government for ever — unless you are stupid enough to permit people to remove you through the ballot box!
After dinner one of my South African friends dropped in to brief me on their latest situation where their government was going through a period of indecision. In order to counter the right-wing Transvaalers, Mulder, Treunicht and Vorster, who were busy planning to recover power, P.W. Botha’s best bet, I thought, was to produce a good budget and then call an election, thus catching them on the wrong foot.
On Wednesday 19 March, I went to spend the evening with the SAS troopies in their mess, and was given a warm reception there. They certainly were a dedicated band of no-nonsense chaps, albeit frustrated over the current situation. They were deeply suspicious of the security chiefs, whom they would never trust again, claiming that they had been betrayed by unfulfilled promises. This is a common complaint from all branches of the security forces.
The next day brought a heart-warming moment. After an interview with a Nigerian journalist at our party HQ, I visited a local building society to fill in a form. Once I was recognised, some of the girls came and asked for my signature, and in no time there was a queue. The head of the department, with a broad smile, said: ‘What are you doing, Mr Smith; the whole place has come to a standstill!’ So I made a plan to sign fifty of their forms and have them delivered to the leader of their ‘gang’. A middle-aged woman with a face of strong character then came up and said: ‘Well done, Mr Smith, we nearly pulled it off. I want to thank you for a fabulous fifteen years and say that we Rhodesians think you are a tremendous man. Like you, I am going to stay and help to make it work. I wish you all the best, and happiness to you and Mrs Smith.’
Then I walked into Kingston’s bookshop to receive much the same reception, and in the middle of it, suddenly loud and clear over their amplifiers, came that great song ‘Rhodesians Never Die’. It was my first encounter with getting back to normal life, and I came to the conclusion that if I wanted peace and quiet I had best stay at home!
My office staff and security chaps, plus Frank (my faithful driver) and Gladys Abrahams came for sundowners and snacks on 21 March, and we enjoyed hosting them to a happy farewell party. It gave me a better appreciation of the difference between the private sector and the public service in our current dilemma — the former continued to work for themselves as in the past, but the latter had to work for the new government, the terrorists, whom they had been fighting against for the past decade. Has such a situation ever happened before in history?
At lunch on 22 March with a number of people, some of whom were associated with the election process, I heard a repeat of what I had been told previously. The poor, gullible tribesman, already bemused by an election which he was unable to comprehend, extending over three days with intimidation rampant, was instructed by ZANU(PF), prior to the election, that the first day was for Mugabe, the second for Muzorewa and the third for Nkomo. Then the day and evening preceding the election, the messages went out through the ZANU(PF) party machine, that everybody must vote tomorrow, i.e. the first day, which they had previously been instructed was for Mugabe. The vast majority voted that day — they had been warned of the consequences if they did not. One of those present at the lunch, an eminent local lawyer, recalled that at the end of Lancaster House he had witnessed Walls on British TV saying that he liked the agreement and was sure Rhodesians would do likewise — he now wished to ask him exactly what it was that he had liked!
Soames had just returned from a visit to London, enthusiastic over the results, claiming in a statement made the previous day that their principal fear of an indecisive election had not materialised, and thus fortunately they had no problem. In fact they were basking in the glory of all the compliments pouring in from the OAU, the Third World, not to mention their own communist supporters and fellow-travellers. And so, instead of returning home as soon as the election was completed, as Soames had indicated to me they would, they had altered their tactics in order to permit them to linger on and bask in the joy of their fantastic victory, which had ‘exceeded their most optimistic expectations’!
On 2 April, travelling between Gatooma and Hartley, we noticed aircraft taking off from the massive new aerodrome that had been built in the middle of the bush at Flyde, with South African finance. It had been explained to me that this had been strategically sited in the best position to intercept invading aircraft from the north. Ironically, it was now proving useful in assisting the South Africans in their withdrawal exercise in view of the fact that the election had gone the wrong way for them. It was an expensive investment that they were now forced to abandon because of their misjudgement and bungling. And when, in the end, their vision and predictions proved to be ill-conceived, ending in disaster, they took the quickest and shortest route out; in diplomatic language this is termed a strategic withdrawal.
And now, I thought, all eyes were turned to South West Africa, and one could only hope that the South Africans would learn from their mistakes and ensure an agreement equitable to all sections of the community. And one also had to hope that they would get their heads out of the sand and face up to the fact that they were next on the list. I thought of the number of times I had warned them of the communists’ domino tactic, which had brought them down the continent of Africa. When the communists had obtained control of Angola and South West Africa on their western flank and Rhodesia and Mozambique to their north and east, the pincer movement would be complete. The communists could then concentrate on the last remaining target in Africa and marshal all their forces against South Africa. I could still see Vorster looking at me with disdain, from his reclining position of smug complacency reminding me that there was no possibility of that happening because South Africa was different — the white people controlled their area, and in return they were happy to accommodate the black people and assist them to control their areas. Moreover, apart from the starry-eyed liberals with their one-track minds, immune to any other thinking, the major Western countries were prepared to accept that this was an internal problem and should be left to the South Africans to settle among themselves. It all sounded so neat and plausible, but even if one supported the overall philosophy of apartheid, to me the practicalities were insurmountable. And within a few years Vorster was conceding this of his own volition, and explaining away to me the need to change tactics.
One never ceased to be amazed at the South African Information Ministry’s wondrous facility for provoking those who were ready to offer a helping hand. If they succeeded in a new trade deal, or in some diplomatic approach, this was shouted from the rooftops, when the other party, for obvious reasons, would have hoped for some discretion. Maybe this was a natural reaction from people who found themselves the pariah of the world, and were therefore obsessed with the desire to find someone to love them.
On 3 April, Hector MacDonald announced his resignation as Chief Justice. Having supported the British at Lancaster House, he was now about to retire to South Africa because things had gone wrong. Some of his colleagues in the Appellate Division told me he was wasting a lot of their time trying to explain away his decision to ‘take the gap’. They hoped his departure would not be delayed because they were reluctant to have to remind him that they had work to do. According to reports we received during the Lancaster House conference, MacDonald had openly made the point that if the Patriotic Front won the election he would obviously be persona non grata, and would therefore resign and depart the country. Later, I was shown a letter written in Knysna, South Africa, on 1 June
1980 to a friend of ours in Salisbury. The letter told of a visit from Hector MacDonald to his sister in Plettenberg Bay. The writer of the letter was a personal friend, and MacDonald had informed him that he had been invited to accompany the delegation to Lancaster House as a legal adviser. The reason they had all agreed to the Muzorewa government resigning to make way for a new election, MacDonald explained, was that Britain, in the form of Lord Carrington, had given an undertaking that the whole object was to make sure that Muzorewa would win the election. This was the guarantee offered to the Rhodesian delegates by Carrington in order to gain their agreement. It was therefore in good faith that the Rhodesians gave their agreement, though MacDonald understood Ian Smith opposed it, presumably because his experience was that the word of the British negotiators was unreliable. During the run-up to the election, MacDonald said Mugabe provided innumerable reasons why he and his party should be proscribed from running for election, but Soames did absolutely nothing about it. When the election was over, Walls asked Soames for an explanation; Soames’s reply was that he knew nothing about it. MacDonald had met Ken Flower in Salisbury and asked him what would happen to RENAMO (the anti-FRELIMO rebels in Mozambique, which Flower and others had sponsored) if Mugabe got in, and his reply was definite: ‘We will not let Mugabe win.’ Hector MacDonald was thoroughly disillusioned by all his dealings with Carrington and the British government. The writer asked whether he objected to his passing on what he told him. ‘Not at all. In fact the more that is known about what happened, the better,’ he replied.
On 4 April I had a visit from my friend in telecommunications to say that the British were rapidly learning that things were not going to be as easy as they believed, and everywhere there was chaos. He had a tape of Robert Renwick of the Foreign Office speaking to his colleague Miller in London saying: ‘They are just a bunch of nitwits.’ Both were laughing their heads off. Then another one of Nicholas Brown, also of the British mission, speaking about the new order to someone in the Foreign Office, said: ‘Their incompetence has to be seen to be believed — I don’t see how it can work.’ There was another of Tiny Rowland telling his top man on the local scene that he did not want any more truck with ‘Josh and Ndaba’, as he was tired of backing losers.
I went to see Soames on the morning of 8 April. He was ebullient, having just returned from a weekend at Kariba — he had nearly got a buffalo but bad luck had robbed him of it. He did not want to shoot an elephant as they seemed so harmless, but a buffalo was different; they are aggressive. He enthused over the lake and the Zambezi Valley. I got down to business and reiterated my case for underwriting pensions, as I was deeply concerned at reports of the increasing numbers of resignations from the security forces. He assured me that I was preaching to the converted, not pushing against a closed door, but the problem was with the British Treasury, ‘and you know what these financial people are!’ I stressed the great importance of maintaining security, and the need for law and order if we were to preserve confidence in the future. He admitted that people were worried, especially the young over their children’s education and generally settling in to the new environment, because it must be conceded that there did not seem much future under a black government, not when one looked at the rest of Africa. I commented that it was a bit late in the day to start facing up to that problem; were we not attempting to close the door after the horse had bolted? He did not appear to disagree.
I came back to the most important immediate problem: maintaining the confidence of our white people; without security there would not be much hope. He then sent for Renwick and we went through it again, and I added the desirability of including other countries, especially those which all along had indicated their support. He said the South Africans had changed their tune and were no longer interested — I made the point that this was because their plan had failed, and he agreed. Soames was critical of the South Africans for enticing, actually recruiting, our security forces to their ranks. He said: ‘As you know from your own experience, the record proves that they are fair-weather friends, ready to change course to suit their own convenience.’ The Americans, he added, had too many problems of their own, and had made it clear that it was our business — ‘Will you be prepared to help us in Nicaragua?’ they asked. Soames recalled that, while he was Britain’s representative in France in 1972, during a discussion with President Nixon concerning the changing scene in Africa, he had suggested greater participation on the part of the USA. Nixon had been horrified. He told him that they were not interested in Africa; Britain could keep it all! When he had met Nixon in Britain the previous year he had reminded him of this and said: ‘I hope that is one of the tapes you have not destroyed!’ Soames had quite a twinkle in his eye, and was obviously in good form — maybe reinvigorated by his break in the valley.
Once again I stressed that the British government was under an obligation to make a special effort, especially because of the promises it had made to us at Lancaster House that we would not be landed with a PF government. I suggested that he might discuss this matter with David Smith, who had been close to their Foreign Office and had assured us in London that Carrington in person had reassured him on this point. Soames repeated what he had previously said, however, that he was unaware of any such undertaking. He also made the point that, as David Smith had accepted a cabinet post under Mugabe, he would probably be reluctant to comment — I had to agree.
It was clear to me, as it had been all along that, in typical Foreign Office fashion, they had played their cards in such a way that it was impossible to pin them down to anything definite, and their strategy was absolutely clear: ‘Let’s wash our hands of Rhodesia, the sooner the better; it has been a thorn in our side for far too long.’ Into the bargain, anything they could do to placate the OAU would be a bonus.
I then asked about Michael Borlace, one of our pilots who had fallen into Zambian hands. We had requested British assistance to secure his release. He had been badly handled, tortured in barbaric fashion. Soames assured me that they were doing their best, but conditions in Zambia were so chaotic that it was almost impossible to get any sense out of the place! They would take it up personally with Kaunda when he came to the independence celebrations. As for a number of our whites whom we were trying to extricate from Mozambique, the response was negative — Machel had said they did not know where they were. My response was that our SAS or Selous Scouts could provide the answer to this.
As I departed, Soames mentioned that they were sorry that I would be out of the country and thus unable to attend the independence celebrations, as they had been hoping I would meet Prince Charles. In order to avoid leaving on an unpleasant note, I refrained from making what was to me the obvious reply. My decision to be well out of the way was deliberate. Although one had become inured to the facility with which British politicians resorted to appeasement as part and parcel of implementing their ‘diplomacy’, we were now confronted by something which exceeded all their previous nefarious escapades. The thought of being confronted by a scene where they would be wringing their hands in apparent pleasure, and fawning around a bunch of communist terrorists who had come into their position through intimidation, corruption and a blatantly dishonest election, was a situation against which my whole system would revolt. It would be a monstrous travesty of everything I had been brought up to accept as part of British history, tradition, culture and standards of honesty and decency. Then to add insult to injury, they planned to compound the felony by using the Queen’s young son to crown the glorious proceedings by pulling down the Union Jack, thence to be confined to the rubbish heap. This was a contradiction of everything that Charles’s predecessors had believed in, and put into practice: raising the Union Jack in order to translocate Western Christian democracy, with its freedom, justice, law and order and development of decent standards of living, to so many distant parts of the world. As Winston Churchill once commented: ‘If there are those who believe that I will be party to the dismemberment of the Bri
tish Empire, they make a grave mistake.’
Obviously, if there are countries that wish to break their ties with the Commonwealth and transpose themselves into one-party dictatorships, that is their right, but it should not be consecrated by freedom-loving people. Let them do their own dubious work, without the blessing and support of good people.
I had a visit from my South African diplomatic friend that evening, 8 April, and he told me their government were angry because they had not been invited to the independence celebrations. It was difficult to believe that they were unable to comprehend the world’s — and especially Africa’s — strong antagonism towards them. If they had insisted on attending, 90 per cent of the other guests would have walked out, highlighting the reality of their unacceptability. It was not so long ago that Vorster, on his return from a visit to Europe, had told me how he had been taken aback by the hostility towards him from those who previously had been South Africa’s strongest supporters. He had said: ‘They told me that we were the greatest evil on earth, even worse than communists!’ Why not, I thought, simply accept the truth gracefully, and tactfully get on with their own affairs, ignoring the happenings north of the Limpopo. If, by chance, they were questioned over their non-attendance, how simple the reply: ‘We are happy not to be associated with the establishment of a one-party dictatorship.’