by Ian Smith
A few days later my suspicions were confirmed. Walking out of the chamber I bumped into the Minister of Education, Mutumbuka. ‘What has happened to our community schools?’ I asked. ‘You will have to ask the Prime Minister,’ he replied. ‘It has been taken out of my hands, and he is dealing with it personally.’ He shrugged with an air of desperation and walked away. Obviously, this indicated a change of direction from Mutumbuka’s acceptance of the community school concept. Unfortunately this would detract from the parents’ contribution to the school, and the associated financial benefits. But what I found particularly disturbing, indeed reprehensible, was Mugabe’s evasion in the replies he had given me.
In late March 1981, Soames arrived, leading the British team to the donors’ conference. He asked to see me on 25 March and I was pleasantly surprised to find that he was seeking my views and not giving me his. Soames assured me that Britain, indeed all the donor countries, were aware that funds were being misappropriated and used inefficiently. Now, he said, they insisted on vetting all such projects. We talked at length and he expressed his gratitude for the time I had taken to give him my views. On my departure, he insisted on accompanying me to the lift. I sensed that the British were beginning to understand the magnitude of the problem, and that it was not so simple and easy as it appeared a year previously.
The veil of pretence, the government’s anti-communist stance and support of reconciliation, had been gradually disintegrating. Mugabe had obviously come to the conclusion by early 1981 that he was sufficiently secure to take the bull by the horns. In his latest move he had made a public announcement confirming government’s intention to fulfil their policy of creating a one-party communist state. Over the past year, 1980, I had been agreeably impressed by the confidence shown by potential investors over our country’s future. There had now been an immediate and dramatic change, however, as a result of this unbelievable change of course. I received a stream of representations from people expressing alarm and disenchantment.
Accordingly, I arranged an urgent meeting with Mugabe and was greeted with the usual courtesy. I came straight to the point and expressed my deep concern at his statement and the change of course which he had announced. I asked: was he aware of the damage this would do to confidence and investment in our country? In view of the fact that it was impossible to make the necessary constitutional changes during the initial seven-year period, what was the purpose of making such a provocative statement, which could only be to the detriment of Zimbabwe?
Mugabe nonchalantly said that he thought I was overreacting. I assured him that his assessment was wrong — the evidence was overwhelming. As he was well aware, I continued, our Rhodesian Front had committed themselves to working constructively to assist his government, and accordingly I had never criticised him in public. I had to make it clear, however, that if he persisted in following this new course, clearly so damaging to our nation, I would be compelled to voice my objection publicly. I urged him with the utmost earnestness and sincerity to reconsider his position. He was obviously displeased, and our parting, unlike on previous occasions, was cool. He stood his distance. From that day onwards, he has refused to meet me.
On 19 July 1981 I took time to reflect on the two recent by-elections that we had won convincingly, one in a rural area, the other in a Salisbury suburb. I was deeply grateful that in both cases our white Rhodesian tribe was firm and constant. At Virginia, a place that had a tough time during our war, sandwiched between two tribal trust lands, every farmer was present at the meeting, including a widow who had lost her husband, and a man with a leg buckled by a landmine. In spite of all the pressures to which they were being subjected, their support for our cause was still firm and positive — I was proud to be among them. At the eve-of-poll meeting at Borrowdale, there was a packed house with people on the roof, and crowding the veranda and doors. That wonderful Rhodesian spirit was still very much in evidence. I was surprised that Mugabe, admittedly with support and pressure from certain white dissident elements, had so misjudged the situation and opted to back the losing side, in contrast to his previous stance of remaining neutral in the field of white politics. The government certainly pulled out all the stops, using to the full their control of the media, even to the extent of editorials which resorted to blatant intimidation, even blackmail, against our white community. One of their ministers threatened publicly that I was to be either deported or detained. All of this had a contrary effect, however, making Rhodesians all the more determined to stand their ground on principle. What I found particularly pleasing was the number of young people coming forward and not only offering their support, but expressing gratitude for our past efforts to save our country.
On 1 August I went to Bulawayo for a Rhodesian Front executive meeting, followed by a meeting with Nkomo. He told me that Matabele frustration was boiling over, and that we were heading for an internal explosion. Mugabe’s plan to subjugate the Matabele nation was doomed, Nkomo declared. I made it clear that I believed time was running out, and that there was a need for less talk and more action. He protested to the contrary, and appealed for patience and continuing support.
A week later, on 8 August, the BBC news quoted Mugabe as attacking our white community for not supporting his party. He told the black people that they were within their rights to seek retribution and hit the whites in return! His speech in the previous month, July, when he had received the Freedom of the City of Gwelo, was similarly dedicated to an attack on the ‘evils of the previous colonial racist regime’. It was difficult to tie this up with ZANU(PF)’s declared policy of reconciliation. It was becoming more and more obvious that they believed it was no longer necessary to continue to influence the rest of the world. Every country in Africa to their north operated openly under a one-party dictatorship, and the free world had raised no objection; why should Zimbabwe not join the club? I received a phone call from a British journalist asking for a comment on the threat to jail me. This stemmed from one thing: my refusal to accept a one-party dictatorship. If the penalty for that was imprisonment, I said, then let him get on with it. If there were any other complaints about me, then the law should take its course. Because ZANU(PF) was unable to achieve its objective de jure, it was seeking the next best, de facto. This necessitated the use of various pressures and, if need be, intimidation, and in the end, even elimination; history had proved its effectiveness in this field.
I had spent a week in my constituency, holding meetings from Beit Bridge to Bulawayo, and, on my return on 12 December 1981, I was taken aback at receiving the dreadful news that one of our Members of Parliament, Wally Stuttaford, had been arrested and thrown into Chikurubi High Security Prison. The authorities claimed that he was planning a coup to overthrow the government. Anything more fatuous and devious it was difficult to contemplate. He was a retired pensioner, under medication for high blood pressure, and had expressed a desire to retire from politics. If he were a dark horse and had been up to malpractice of which we were unaware, they should have brought him to court and disclosed their evidence. But to keep him in solitary confinement, and deny him access to his lawyer, family and friends, was barbaric. Admittedly Stuttaford lived in Bulawayo, Matabeleland and, like all Matabeles, was concerned over Mugabe’s plan to eliminate Matabele history, culture, tradition and pride in their nation. So this was just one more act in the policy of destabilising our white community, because of their reluctance to join the crusade for a one-party state.
In the previous month, November 1981, Mugabe made a speech in Lomagundi attacking white farmers and generally preaching racial hatred. After a long period of peace and quiet in the area, in the month since the speech there had been a marked deterioration of the situation, with two whites killed and a few others assaulted by Mugabe’s comrades. As a result of government’s policy of destabilising our white community, there had been a definite increase in emigration; it was now reaching ten thousand per month. And if anyone thought that the British government, which had l
anded us in this pickle, would lift a finger to protest, they were wrong!
By 26 December there was much speculation on the explosion which had ripped through ZANU(PF) headquarters in Salisbury during the previous week. The government was blaming the South Africans and the Rhodesian Front. But the government also blamed us for Sadat’s assassination! Most thinking people believed it was an inside job by their own dissidents — the ZANU(PF) headquarters was the most closely guarded point in Salisbury, and no white man was permitted entrance. It might be a clever decoy to arouse sympathy for the party and provide an additional excuse to attack our white community.
Parliament re-opened on Tuesday 19 January 1982, and on Wednesday 20, they renewed the state of emergency, which enabled them to circumvent the constitution and ride rough-shod over people’s rights. I spoke against it and in particular mentioned the Stuttaford case and the medical evidence confirming that he had been tortured. I continued to hope that this kind of inhuman behaviour would arouse world opinion, but I was not sanguine as far as the free world was concerned. The communists were always ready to rush in and support their friends, but the Western world, with their guilt complex, always fell into the trap of sitting on the fence, thus allowing the communists to steal a march on them. I thought, ‘Maybe Reagan will be different — that’s our hope.’ But with problems such as Poland, Israel, Afghanistan, Cuba, Angola and South West Africa on his plate, Zimbabwe was probably no more than a blip on his horizon. One would have thought, however, that his advisers would constantly warn him of the communist plan to gain control of southern Africa, the ‘Persian Gulf’ of strategic minerals of the world. South Africa, the industrial giant of Africa, in control of the vital strategic sea route to the east, the only First World country on the continent, was the ultimate objective. I could understand the disenchantment of the United States and western Europe with Africa and its incompetence, corruption and chaos. But, of course, this was fertile ground for communism. Moreover, they must never forget that Africa was part of their world, and the greater the deterioration the greater would be the ultimate rescue operation in which, because of their wealth and power, they would not be able to escape their responsibility as major participants.
Lord Carrington visited the country early in 1982, and after contacting the British High Commission on Thursday 25 February, our party chairman received a phone call to say that Carrington would be prepared to meet him at 8.30 a.m. on the Friday. Who would be accompanying him? A delegation of five, he replied, including the party president. He was taken aback to be asked who was the president. ‘Ian Smith,’ he replied. ‘That changes the picture; I will have to come back to you,’ he was informed. Mid-morning there was a second call to say that regrettably Carrington’s schedule was so tight they were unable to fit us in. So much for the accepted tradition in Britain, where the leader of the opposition is permitted access to the Prime Minister, or the appropriate representative! Carrington was emulating Mugabe: ‘If you do not agree with me and my plans, then I refuse to talk to you.’
On 15 March I flew back from Durban after a happy ten-day break with friends. I saw some great cricket on TV, with the Springboks playing the English rebels — Graham Gooch and Co. When we arrived at the airport in Durban for our return flight, one of our local friends was there with a message he had just received from Salisbury saying that it would be advisable for me to extend my stay for a few days until the air had cleared. But I had no hesitation in making up my mind to carry on; once you start running away, it never stops. Our return was normal and uneventful; in fact we received a warm welcome from the immigration officer who attended to us.
We had dinner with friends of ours visiting from England on 19 March, and they showed us an article in an American magazine quoting Alexander Haig, the US Secretary of State, referring to Carrington as ‘that duplicitous bastard’. Then on 18 April, I wrote in my diary:
… Argentina was in the wrong when they invaded the Falkland Islands, no different from the Russians in Afghanistan, and it can in no way be condoned. However, there was great jubilation here over Carrington’s resignation. That night we drank a toast to Argentina — it’s an ill-wind that blows nobody any good! It was obvious that Carrington was not up to the job, but sad that his deputy Luce also resigned, as he was far more competent. Carrington should have been man enough to have accepted full responsibility and insisted that Luce remain in office.
By 30 May 1982 I had noticed that the cry from the Third World was that they had to break away from the shackles of capitalism, otherwise they would have no ‘true freedom’. Previously it had been the shackles of colonialism holding them back. But this was simply another smokescreen to cover up the failure of communism, with its associated corruption and incompetence. It was necessary to make it absolutely clear to these people that what was required was economic freedom, associated with the free enterprise system that has proved itself to be the most efficient one in the world. So-called ‘independence’, which brought with it corruption and chaos, necessitating the use of the begging bowl, was a false independence. There could be no true independence for a country unable to stand on its own feet — he who pays the piper, calls the tune. We Rhodesians speak from our own experience, because we fought against British colonialism, and finally had to resort to UDI in order to break the shackles — a replica of what had happened a few centuries previously in the USA. The communists had successfully misrepresented the situation by depicting white Rhodesians as colonial oppressors and our black Rhodesians as the oppressed. But the truth was that our black people were better off than the blacks anywhere else in Africa, with more freedom, better justice and a higher standard of living.
On 13 June, I went down to Bulawayo for a Matabeleland division meeting. There was deep concern about Wally Stuttaford, still in prison in violation of our declaration of rights. Our lawyers were doing what they could, but this government was immune to the normal process of law. I told them that on Friday 11 June I had interviewed the British High Commissioner in Salisbury and made a strong representation for a message to be sent direct to Margaret Thatcher concerning our government’s abuse of power and violation of our declaration of rights. I was assured that the message would be despatched immediately. The other major problem was the continuing dissident ZIPRA activity directed against white Matabeles. Some of ZIPRA were by now in open rebellion against Mugabe. Latest information was that this was not the work of locals but of specialist members of the security forces who plied this trade by night, and then donned their uniforms to hunt dissidents by day. The plan was to divide Matabeles — white against black; diabolically evil!
Mugabe made his speech in Parliament on the afternoon of 29 July, winding up the debate on the President’s address. He produced a vitriolic diatribe against the Rhodesian Front, hurling abuse and insults at our white community. Yet ZANU(PF) continued to proclaim their policy of reconciliation. Worse still, he spelt out in no uncertain terms that the government reserved the right to reject any decisions from the courts of law in conflict with their philosophy. Clearly, this was one more deliberate attempt to destabilise our whites.
On 3 September 1982, I met Henry Kissinger, who was on a one-day flying visit. He said that once again he wished to pay tribute to me for the integrity and honour I had displayed during the negotiations in which he had participated, and for the great dignity with which I had accepted the intrigue and deviousness loaded against me, with its resultant failures and disappointments. I told him of my concern over the deteriorating scene, with our government well advanced in its plan for creating a one-party communist dictatorship. Already the communications media had been taken over and subverted, and government did not hesitate to override the constitution and declaration of rights. They had already rejected certain High Court decisions. All of this had promoted high emigration of our skilled, experienced, professionals. The most recent development was the rift between Mugabe and Nkomo, with a resultant deep suspicion and resentment among Matabeles. The
government was bragging about pouring more troops into Matabeleland, but this was only aggravating the situation. The answer lay in communication and giving consideration to the Matabele complaints. But then, dictators do not accept any questions over their philosophy.
I asked Kissinger why the free world continued to support the establishment of a communist dictatorship in our country. Apart from the violation of basic freedom and justice, our economy was also degenerating at an alarming rate because socialism and nepotism were supplanting the efficiency of free enterprise. Into the bargain, our government had adopted a provocative stance against the free world, in particular the USA and the UK, and had consistently sided with the communist dictatorships whenever there were differences of opinion.
Kissinger believed it would be possible to arouse world interest on the Matabele scene, but he was not sanguine about the overall situation in our country. This kind of issue came under the purview of the OAU and the rest of the world was not prepared to court a confrontation with them. But, I pointed out, they were all communist dictators. He replied: ‘The politics of convenience has little to do with truth and logic!’ He conceded the justice of my case, and assured me of his continuing wish to help. On parting he once again paid tribute to the manner in which I had conducted myself and said this would be recorded in his memoirs.
On 19 November 1982, I noted that, no matter how much we tried to overlook and combat the campaign of intimidation against us, there was a telling example during the previous month’s by-election of its effectiveness. We had an excellent young candidate who believed that he could now take time from his business commitments to stand for the party. He would discuss it with his wife and let me know in the morning. Regrettably, however, he had to decline — his wife had broken down and pleaded: ‘What happens to me and the children when they lock you up like Wally Stuttaford?’