Bitter Harvest

by Ian Smith

  This kind of talk was music to my ears, but I wondered if there was the necessary courage. Several times while sitting in Parliament and at our caucus meetings, I had looked with a discerning eye at those occupying the cabinet seats. They were nice chaps, good friends, but in all honesty there was not one who inspired me as having those qualities needed in an emergency, when a stand has to be made on principle. There was a time when I thought Welensky might — but I was beginning to have doubts even about him.

  In the midst of all of this Whitehead was proving to be more and more of a disaster. I thought of that afternoon during the tea break in the Southern Rhodesian Parliament when Huggins (then Prime Minister) had told us of the British government’s wish that our Southern Rhodesian system should be spread to the two Northern territories. That was one of the reasons that had influenced me to support Federation. But as things were going now, Whitehead was effectively eroding that base.

  Accordingly, I had come to the conclusion that I should return to Southern Rhodesian politics. If Welensky succeeded in keeping Northern Rhodesia in the fold, that would have my full support, but if we lost Southern Rhodesia, all was lost. A number of my Federal colleagues tried to dissuade me — I had them joining me at the breakfast table, conceding that they had been sent on a mission — in a manner similar to what happened when I had opposed the new constitution, Whitehead’s brainchild. There was never any ill-feeling, but I simply told them that they knew me well enough to understand that I always gave careful consideration to such matters, weighing the pros and cons before making up my mind, but once that was done there was no equivocation. Our political world was riddled with compromise, appeasement, indecision, all part and parcel of the deviousness which permeated our society — I felt strongly about this permissiveness, but at the same time tried to avoid over-reaction. However, it is a sad fact of life that whenever there is a tough issue, the easiest way out is to do nothing. Meanwhile, the extremists keep on doing their thing all the time — with them there is never any let-up.

  I put my thoughts to Winston Field, the Dominion Party leader of the opposition in the Federal Parliament, and we agreed to work together and devote ourselves to the Southern Rhodesian territorial field. The DP would be solidly behind Field, so my task was to convert Federal Party supporters.

  The next morning I motored out to see D.C. ‘Boss’ Lilford, who lived about twenty miles out from the city. ‘Boss’ Lilford not only had considerable farming interests but was a miner and an industrialist. He was a well-known, highly respected national figure, a long-time supporter of Huggins and the establishment, and into the bargain, one could say, a financial tycoon. If I could win him across, this would be a great coup. He was six feet five inches tall, a strong character, and a straight talker, qualities which sometimes provoked, but at least let people know where they stood with him. As a five-year-old child he had been taken on a family holiday to the sea, where he was fascinated by the coloured fishermen who went out each day in their boats, and brought back their catches in the afternoon. The person in control of this operation was respectfully referred to as ‘Boss’ by the other operators. From then on Lilford made it clear to the rest of his family that this was how he wished to be addressed: ‘Boss’. It stuck for the rest of his life.

  I had a long discussion with him and his wife over a cup of tea, and in the end he simply said: ‘We’ll back you.’ We formed one of those friendships based on trust and belief in certain fundamental principles, able to resist any pressure. He became a tireless worker for our cause, was able to bring in money for the party machine with a facility which few people have, of being able to extract blood from stone, and I always knew that once he committed himself to a task, it was as good as done.

  The news got out that we were forming a new party, and a steady stream of my Federal friends offered support, but an even bigger number of younger Rhodesians, ex-servicemen of my vintage, started coming forward. It can be fairly said that Rhodesians in general had been apathetic towards politics — they just got on with their private lives, their various businesses, families, our wonderful outdoor life, sport. There had never, ever, been a political problem or question of any consequence. Now, however, there was a sudden realisation that times were changing, and interest in the new party was definitely mounting. We therefore planned a meeting to which prominent people from all over the country were invited. The response exceeded our expectations, and we formed a committee to organise a congress to launch the new party. I proposed Winston Field as the chairman; he was well-known, highly respected, had sound and balanced political views, and he had my support as leader of the new party. I was satisfied that there was general agreement for this, but a bunch of ex-servicemen farmers from the influential area north of Salisbury believed that he was the leader of a party which had failed in previous elections, and they were looking for a new leader. They told him so to his face. After the meeting they approached me and asked me to take on the job. I refused firmly, and accused them of impetuous action which could prejudice all our efforts. Fortunately, they accepted my stand and came with me to Field’s home, where the matter was rectified. Our congress was a great success, and we got ourselves geared up in preparation for the election.

  Welensky dissolved the Federal Parliament and held a general election in April 1962 in a desperate but meaningless effort to prove local support. We simply turned our backs on it, being fully occupied on the territorial front, so the election turned out to be a non-event.

  The movement towards secession of the two Northern territories was clearly gaining ground, so Whitehead came to the conclusion that time was not on his side. Moreover, figures proved that the boycott of the voters’ roll by black voters was successful. It was also common knowledge that the new party, the Rhodesian Front, was growing in strength every day. Accordingly an early general election was called for December 1962.

  A political awareness had suddenly gripped Rhodesians, as there was a general feeling that the hour had come, and that if they did not arouse themselves they were going to lose their country altogether. The response was tremendous. Voluntary helpers exceeded our requirements, and finance came in steadily. Surprisingly, some of the big corporations, which had been consistent supporters of the establishment, made contributions, for they, too, were beginning to discern red lights flashing on the horizon. Our campaign headquarters was running smoothly, with charts for every constituency, and the indications were so positively in our favour that by election day we were quietly confident.

  The result substantiated our prediction. On 14 December 1962, the Rhodesian Front won thirty-five of the fifty ‘A’ roll seats (mainly white voters). Whitehead collected the ‘B’ roll seats, with the exception of one that went to a white independent, Dr Ahrn Palley. He was one of the most able politicians this country has produced, and although our political philosophies did not coincide, we always respected one another and maintained friendly relations. The Rhodesian Front had a working majority of five seats.

  The First Rhodesian Front

  Government: Field and

  Independence

  After the results came through I told Winston Field that he would probably have a long list of potential cabinet ministers looking for jobs, so I wished to let him know that I would be perfectly happy to be left in peace on my farm. He smiled and said: ‘No such luck, I’ve got you down as Deputy PM and Minister of Finance. We work well together.’ Sadly, it was only to be for a short time, as will be seen later.

  Once in office, we wasted no time in getting to grips with the independence issue. Nyasaland’s right of secession from the Federation was announced, and this was associated with a typical piece of British duplicity. The decision was made in September 1962, but the British government colluded with Whitehead to hold back the announcement until after the Southern Rhodesian election, accepting that news of Britain’s formal break of the Federal constitution, in violation of all the agreements and promises given, would prejudice Whitehead’
s election chances.

  Clearly, Northern Rhodesia was next in line for its right to secede, with Kaunda and Nkumbula making strident demands. Could anyone in his right mind believe that, having made the concession to Nyasaland, Britain could resist Northern Rhodesia’s demand? And having been devious and dishonest once, why should anyone worry if they simply repeated the process? Whether you kill one, two or five people, you can be hanged only once. Our task was to ensure that we could save Southern Rhodesia from the shambles. If Welensky could rescue Northern Rhodesia that would be great, and he would have our full support all the way, but the time was rapidly approaching for a firm decision. He would have to draw a line and make it clear to the British that there was a point beyond which they could not push him. I wondered if he would do this.

  Sure enough, on 29 March 1963 the British government announced Northern Rhodesia’s right to secede. Welensky was in London at the time, and as an indication of his resentment he refused an invitation to lunch with Macmillan at 10 Downing Street. I approved of that. He also used some strong language about British deceit and treachery — good stuff, but meaningless if it was not going to be backed up with some action.

  Field was in London at the same time, making our expectations clear, and he had discussions with Macmillan and ‘Rab’ Butler, who assured him that they accepted that Southern Rhodesia was a separate case all on its own, and that they would honour their obligations to us. Their handling of the Northern Rhodesian case, however, indicated that we could not take things for granted.

  Our plan was simple and honest. Southern Rhodesia had been promised independence time after time. Sir Godfrey Huggins, when Prime Minister of Southern Rhodesia, told us that if we wanted dominion status we could have it — it was there for the asking. It had been written into agreements, and endorsed by both the Conservative and Labour Parties. The theme was clear and consistent, and had never been challenged. As recently as 1961 in the referendum on our new constitution, Whitehead and his supporters had stressed on every platform: ‘It means independence if the Federation breaks up.’ So, we simply said to the UK government: ‘If you want our co-operation, please reiterate your commitment on our independence.’

  Welensky endorsed this stand. I was in touch with Greenfield and Caldicott, old friends of mine from the Federal government, and they added their weight. However, I waited in vain for some positive action from the Federal government. It seemed as if they were drifting along with the inevitable.

  When negotiating, trying to strike a bargain, one must avoid putting the other party in a position where agreement is too difficult, out of their reach. It is best to try to put them in a situation where they can give answers for their action. Obstructionism is not part of the game. What could be more reasonable, almost temptingly so, than to say to the British government that we would go along with independence for the other two members of the Federation, providing we were included. All three territories would receive independence at the same time. After all, we had possessed ‘responsible government’, quasi-dominion status or independence, for forty years. And in the words of the British government our record was impeccable, we had been a model of efficiency, correct constitutional behaviour and economic viability, something unusual with emerging countries. By comparison, the two Northern territories had not experienced one day of ‘responsible government’. In all honesty, fairness and justice, how could we be faulted on such a stand?

  In a letter sent to the British government dated 20 April 1963 we stated that unless our government received unqualified recognition of Southern Rhodesia’s right to full independence on the same day that either Northern Rhodesia or Nyasaland received theirs, we would not attend the dissolution conference. We were a happy, united and dedicated team, and no one flinched from the task ahead.

  The Federal government were in complete agreement, and in March 1963, after the British government’s announcement of the right to secede and the need for a conference to deal with dissolution, Welensky spoke in powerful language, accusing the British government of betrayal. During an interview at Salisbury airport on his return from London he said: ‘If Labour came to power in Britain at least they might stab us in the breast and not in the back.’ But more importantly, he went on to say that if the Federation were to be dissolved, at least Southern Rhodesia must get its independence and be saved from the wreckage.

  In his reply Butler (the British minister concerned) equivocated, and talked about the need for discussion on the franchise and the Land Apportionment Act before our independence. Our answer was quick and direct: we pointed out that the new Southern Rhodesian constitution had been accepted by the British government as containing everything necessary for protecting the rights of all our people. What more was there to talk about? We reiterated that our attendance at any conference was conditional on receiving, in writing from the British government, a guarantee of our independence.

  The British government then invited Field for talks in London in late May, and we thought it would be a good idea for him to meet them face to face, and give it to them straight from the shoulder. If the Afro-Asian bloc was the obstacle to Britain fulfilling its obligation to us, then we agreed reluctantly to accept independence outside the Commonwealth, but to retain our links with the Crown, in keeping with our reputation as the most loyal of the loyal. This may not have been a very practical suggestion, but it indicated our willingness to go on trying to solve the problem, provided there was no deviation from the principle of our independence.

  Sadly, Field was unable to make any impression on the British. The main theme from Butler was that the African bloc was becoming more aggressive and threatening and that this issue could break the Commonwealth. To this Field replied that as far as the rest of Africa was concerned, they were all one-party states or dictatorships, and this should disqualify them from the right to be heard. But we were learning fast about the ‘double standards’ of the world in which we were living.

  Field, however, did have a new thought to put to cabinet on 7 June: that we should agree to attend the conference, providing Butler came to Salisbury en route to the Victoria Falls in order to finalise our independence issue. We would be sticking to our principles, he said, and it would put us in the position where we were co-operating, as opposed to being obstructionist. Influential friends in London, outside of government, in what he believed to be a genuine spirit of help, had warned him of the dangers of not attending the conference. The British could carry on without us, leaving us ‘out in the cold’ over the division of Federal assets, finance, the army and air force, and we would be the only losers. Speaking to me privately in his office the day before, after I had advised him again not to go to the Conference, he said: ‘We must keep our feet on the ground and realise that if the British government really made up their mind they could crush us as easily as a big boot can crush a beetle.’

  I went home in sombre mood that evening, accepting that while any ill-considered and impetuous decision might be prejudicial to our cause, we must nevertheless try to avoid surrender. As Churchill said: ‘Never, never surrender.’ My gut-feeling was that the British, using their notorious methods of diplomacy, had resorted to the tactic of using mutual and ‘trusted’ friends to help in the softening-up process. Naturally, their trust was more to their own people, the British, than to the Rhodesians. The new suggestion did seem reasonable, and there was no deviation from our stand on independence, so cabinet concurred, albeit somewhat uneasily.

  The next morning Field called me in, saying that according to his grapevine the Federal government went along with this new tactic, but in order to clarify the position he had arranged to go along and meet them, and he would like me to join him. We walked down, a matter of about 500 yards, and were shown in by the secretary. Welensky greeted us and said, ‘Sit down.’ With him were Barrow, Caldicott and Greenfield. Field outlined his case, briefly but clearly, and ended by stressing the point that we were not deviating from the principle of insisting on a
written confirmation of our independence.

  We then asked if any of them would like to say anything. There were no offers. I watched them carefully, trying to detect any feelings, but they were poker-faced. I expected to hear Welensky confirm that they, too, would support us in not attending the conference until confirmation was forthcoming, and better still, that the Federal government would remain in position until such time. They were still the power in the land, controlling the Federal finances, both the army and air force in all three territories. Immigration was also under their control, which meant that they could prevent anyone from entering the Federation, including representatives of the British government.

  This would not involve war and the tragedy of killing people. The Federation would simply carry on in keeping with their constitution, until the British government had dealt successfully with the legalities of the dissolution, the break-up. There were the very clear undertakings from Britain to both Federal and Southern Rhodesian governments, reiterated as recently as a year before, that the British government would not legislate in our affairs without our assent. Such a stand would have been impregnable. As we walked back to our offices Field made the point that they could not say we had not kept them informed, and I expressed my surprise that there had been no comment from them.

  It is important to record that as soon as the Rhodesian Front government came to power they released all those who had been detained by the previous government. Nkomo, who had been living outside the country, returned, and our government advised the blacks to participate in politics under the new constitution which had made concessions in their favour. But Nkomo refused and ordered a continuing boycott of the voters’ rolls. There was in-fighting between the two main leaders, Nkomo and Sithole, and their party broke into two factions later in 1963. This, as usual in Africa, led to a campaign of violence between the two opposing groups, with the poor, innocent black people caught in the middle.