by Ian Smith
Meanwhile the British government were making plans for the conference at Victoria Falls, a place which had frequently been used for such occasions, conveniently placed on the border between Southern Rhodesia and Northern Rhodesia. Although the township and hotel with its conference facilities is situated on the south bank of the Zambezi River, it is regarded as a kind of no-man’s land for such occasions.
We were holding ourselves in readiness for the pre-conference meeting with Butler in Salisbury, and were awaiting notice of the time of his arrival. About a week before the conference was due on 28 June, Field called us to a cabinet meeting to say that he had been visited by the British High Commissioner with a personal message from Butler to say that his health was not all that good and his doctor had told him he was over-tired. Would we assist by agreeing to have the pre-conference meeting with him at Victoria Falls? This would relieve him of the extra effort of travelling to Salisbury and then flying back to Victoria Falls. Field thought that if we refused we would be accused of being unreasonable, and as it would not involve us in any extra travel and effort we should show willingness. There was not immediate agreement, and there were some searching questions. Clifford Dupont in particular was uneasy, always suspicious of ‘these British politicians’. I wondered if it was not part of a cunning tactic, but one is always sympathetic to a person who is unwell. Dupont interjected: ‘My guess is that he has never felt better in his life!’ After seeing Butler in action at the conference, I had to agree that Dupont was right. Field, however, pressed the point, but it was with little enthusiasm that we conceded to the request.
Victoria Falls is an exciting place to visit, and after dumping my luggage in the hotel room, I walked down to Devil’s Cataract to have a quick look at the awe-inspiring sight of the massive column of water roaring down into the gorge below. Looking down over the edge we were able to breathe in some of the spray which was drifting across.
Butler and his team had arrived as arranged, the officials had met, and Field and Butler had talked, and plans were made for our meeting. I remember walking down that long passage leading to the north-east wing, thinking to myself that all I wanted was a simple, straightforward confirmation of our request, without any escape hatches which would subsequently enable the British to manoeuvre their way out. If this was not forthcoming, I was ready to return to Salisbury.
As soon as we were seated, Butler got straight to the point and said: ‘I am in the pleasant position to be able to tell you that HMG has given the deepest consideration to your request that Southern Rhodesia will get independence no later than the other two territories. In view of your country’s wonderful record of “responsible government” over the past forty years, during which time you have conducted yourself without blemish, managed your financial affairs in an exemplary fashion, and above all the great loyalty you have always given to Britain in time of war, not only in the two world wars but subsequently in Africa and with your air force in Aden, I have been asked to convey to you our government’s long-standing gratitude for your exemplary record, and to confirm that in these circumstances we are able and willing to meet your request. Personally I wish to thank you for meeting me here rather than in Salisbury, and to express my gratitude to you for agreeing to attend the conference because I anticipate great difficulties with the Nationalist leaders of Northern Rhodesia and Nyasaland and will require your constructive assistance if we are to succeed in producing an equitable and sane solution to the dissolution exercise. My latest information is that Hastings Banda has no intention of attending, saying that he already has a commitment to his independence, so why waste his time?’
Winston Field nodded his head approvingly and said that it looked as though our conditions had been met. ‘What do you think?’ he enquired, looking at me. I was listening with meticulous care, and was unable to flaw Butler’s presentation, which after all was based on fact, on history which everybody knew. It was all completely proven. Had it been a trumped-up case designed to pull the wool over people’s eyes, maybe one would have had an uneasy feeling. One thing I did notice was that no one was taking a minute of the meeting — our cabinet secretary Gerald Clarke was sitting quietly listening.
I took my time, and there was a kind of embarrassing silence with everyone looking to me, but I was unconcerned, and, when ready, simply said: ‘It sounds all right. Are we now going to sign an agreement?’
Butler very carefully and meticulously replied: ‘In all these matters dealing with inter-family affairs, between the mother country and her colonies, there must be trust, because without that it simply would not work. Our record with you substantiates that, would you not agree? The thought of signing documents which could be subjected to legal wrangling is completely out of character with the spirit of trust which we believe in and which has characterised our Commonwealth. We will now work together in producing your new constitution, and that will be the document which we will both honour.’
Field agreed and said: ‘If you give your word to all of us here, as you have done, I accept that we must take it on trust.’
That sealed it. We rose from our seats, and as a parting shot I looked straight at Butler and said: ‘Let’s remember the trust you emphasised, if you break that you will live to regret it.’
The above is a copy of the minute I wrote when I returned to my room while the event was still fresh in my mind. It coincides with the record of the others present at the meeting, with whom I had subsequent discussions.
We went into the lounge and sat and talked for a few minutes. I made it clear that I was not completely happy, but Field did not think there would be any problem, and ended by saying: ‘If we give them their marching orders now, or in six months’ time, there’s no difference, so let’s give them a chance.’
It seemed reasonable. The conference passed without any serious problem, but the thing which struck me most was the passive attitude of the Federal team. They rarely participated. We had told them about our meeting with Butler and the undertaking he had given. I am being wise through hindsight when I say they should have suggested a joint meeting between our two delegations and the British, so that they too would have been witness to Butler’s message, and we could have had secretaries recording the meeting. They were the ones who had been dealing with the British government for the past ten years, and had within the past twelve months experienced ‘British duplicity and treachery’, to quote Welensky’s own words. Moreover, let me repeat what Welensky said, during the campaign for Whitehead’s 1961 constitution at their party congress on 22 February 1962. He said: ‘These proposals mean that future amendments to our constitution will rest with us here in Southern Rhodesia. I wasn’t going to leave that power in London for all the tea in China, because you might have a Labour government one day which would be quite agreeable to making changes we could never accept. So I believe we have given you a real guarantee for the future.’
Very clearly, he nailed his flag to the mast. If he had followed it up at this Falls conference, things would have ended differently.
It had been accepted before the conference that the armed forces would come to Southern Rhodesia en bloc. This was vital to us because both army and air force were highly efficient, and constituted the most proficient fighting force in sub-Saharan Africa, other than South Africa’s. The British had made it clear that they did not wish any of this to fall into the hands of the two Northern territories. The other important function was the distribution of assets and liabilities, the overall economy. In my capacity as Minister of Finance, I was chairman of the committee dealing with the financial aspects of dissolution. This was no small task, in addition to my duties in the Southern Rhodesian Treasury, and the independence issue. The exercise threw up interesting facts, and the British representatives working with us were open in their praise for the Southern Rhodesian administration and the overall efficiency which they encountered. One of the most telling aspects was the discrepancy in the development and services provided in Southe
rn Rhodesia, by comparison with the two Northern territories. For example, in the fields of education, health, housing, cultural and sporting amenities for the indigenous peoples, Southern Rhodesia had provided, in proportion to population, double the facilities that the British government had provided in Northern Rhodesia and Nyasaland. This is pertinent, especially in view of the criticism directed at us by the starry-eyed do-gooders and opportunist black politicians that we had not done enough in these fields. We never denied the need to do more, and the record shows our constantly increasing efforts. But a government has to be realistic and deal with the practicalities as they exist.
It is difficult for people who have never lived in this part of the world to appreciate that sub-Saharan Africa is different. It was the last part of our world to come into contact with western European civilisation, and when the pioneers arrived in this country the local people had no written language, no form of currency, no schools or hospitals, and lived in makeshift houses with grass roofs. The wheel had not even evolved, nor had the plough. The change which has taken place is absolutely phenomenal, and is a tribute to what the white inhabitants did over a period of ninety years.
I recall clearly an occasion during my university vacation soon after the declaration of war in 1939 when my mother asked me to talk to Bob, one of the fine black men who worked for us, and whom my father had often said was superior to some of the whites who had worked for him. The problem was that Bob would not agree to send his son, the eldest of his children, to school. He was a good-looking and intelligent boy and, as I had always got on well with Bob, I suggested that perhaps I could influence him. Bob was a great tea drinker, so we sat down one afternoon over a cup of tea while I explained to him the benefits of education, and how this would be an asset to him and his family in the future. He listened carefully and then said he would think about it. The following week, after a weekend of cogitation and discussion with his family, he asked if we could talk again. Methodically and unemotionally, he explained to me that while he accepted that there were some benefits from education, he had to get his priorities right. At this stage his son’s first responsibility was taking care of the home, the mother and family, the cattle, and with the rains, the planting and cultivation of the crops. On reflection I accepted that his decision was in keeping with what 90 per cent of his contemporaries would have done. Their history, way of life and traditions were far removed from those of our Western civilisation, and people of character and consequence do not lightly jettison their culture. Of course, there was no guarantee that we were right, and they were wrong — time would tell and there was no need to rush these things. We were, after all, living in different worlds, and they were not all that enthusiastic over the white man’s calendar and watch and the importance he attached to time. Their lives were governed by the sun, as they always had been. Even before the crack of dawn, the bulbul give a warning that dawn is about to come, and the guinea fowl start their ‘catankering’, and one is awakened by nature’s reveille. To those of us who live on farms, that is one of the good things of life that has not changed. People who live with nature get up, and get out. If it is summer you get moving and do as much as you can before the scorching sun starts beating down on your back. After the sun has moved overhead on its way north, you know that winter will not be far away, so it is time to prepare the grain bins for the incoming crop, and pile up the stack of wood for the winter fires. Conversely, when the sun starts moving southwards, and the weather begins to warm up, it is time to cut some thatching grass to repair the roofs, and cart the manure to the lands before the rains come. Calendars and clocks do not help with these things. This was a field in which the black man knew as much as the white man, and he had an additional asset, the witch doctor, who could throw the bones and invoke the help of the spirits in order to forecast the weather pattern. Those were the days before weather stations were dotted around the world, with radio communication. The concept of satellite pictures on TV screens every day would have been rejected as a ridiculous absurdity.
Then the war came, and that was followed by my final year at university, and so five years had passed before I really got back to base. Bob was not as fit and strong as he had always been, and the first essential, according to our doctor, was the removal of his teeth, which were all rotten and undermining his system. The plan was for me to motor him to Gwelo, where there was a very good dentist, an anaesthetic at the hospital, and within half an hour it would all be over. Bob was horrified and was surprised that I was prepared to make the suggestion — he had never in his life been in a hospital, and he certainly was not going to start now. As I knew, he was perfectly happy to have iodine or ointment on cuts and bruises, but the idea of putting him to sleep for an operation! What if he did not wake up from the sleep? He was truly incensed at the suggestion. I was disappointed, because of his health problem, but not all that surprised because of my knowledge of our local people, and understanding of their beliefs and customs. The doctor informed us that this was one of our greatest problems, as Bob was not an isolated case. The indigenous population needed time to adapt to the rapidly changing world which was surrounding them.
This problem was of great concern to our government, because throughout the country there were schools and hospitals being used to half capacity, for the reasons which I have been at pains to explain. It is important to record that this was one of the major causes for the lack of facilities in subsequent years when we were unable to meet the requirements. One of the dramatic developments during the post-war years was a growing awareness among our black people of the desirability of education if they were going to catch up with the white man and his European civilisation, and secondly the need to accept health facilities in order to combat disease and prevent premature death. In spite of the allocation of increased funds and the dedicated effort of government officials, the unprecedented demand for increased facilities was insurmountable. The problem was aggravated by the fact that our black people had the highest rate of population increase in the world.
Later, in 1967, our government, faced with mounting pressure for increased education facilities for black children, in keeping with our constructive approach to such problems, set up a committee to investigate how best to solve the difficulty. The report, which was not finished until the following year, was comprehensive and revealed some startling evidence when presented to us by John Wrathall, the Minister of Finance. Before the advent of the pioneer column in 1890 the local population had remained at around 300,000, kept in check by constant war, disease, pestilence, malnutrition and starvation caused by droughts. With the coming of the white man, however, all this changed. He prevented the wars, provided medicines for the people and veterinary services for the stock, and even in times of drought food was available. It was estimated that the indigenous population was now between 4 and 5 million. The finance necessary to provide education for everyone would consume the whole of our present national budget! The vast mass of the people were in the lower income bracket, and their contribution to the fiscus was minuscule. The thought of increasing tax was rejected because of the adverse effect this would have on confidence, investment, and thus overall development, which in turn would lead to fewer job opportunities. The current sanctions campaign against our country was an aggravating factor. Then there was the problem of providing teachers, assuming that buildings could be provided. From the time a child is born it takes a minimum of twenty years to produce a teacher. Accordingly, it was necessary to take into account a situation where if extra resources were diverted to building more schools, we would be confronted by a situation of insufficient teachers. Our construction sector was already working to capacity with a shortage of professional staff and skilled artisans. The facts clearly indicated the government’s growing commitments, not only to education but to the other humanitarian fields such as health and housing. The committee stressed the need for planned, balanced development, and emphasised the importance of co-ordinating effort in or
der to ensure the optimum use of available resources.
Sadly, the report pointed to destructive elements from the black nationalist parties, which had destroyed school buildings and burnt books and equipment — actions which detracted from the enthusiasm of those who were working to channel extra funds into education from an already over-strained budget. Any thought of lowering our standards for possible short-term benefits would clearly lead to long-term disadvantages, and the report concluded that there was no case for a change in the government’s well-thought-out policy. The criticism against government stemmed from political expediency and emotional opportunism, and paid scant regard to the historical legacy of a people who were at first contemptuous of the white man’s education, rejecting it, then, after the post-war revolution, changing dramatically to the opposite extreme. This created practical problems beyond man’s control, and had nothing to do with lack of understanding or desire to meet people’s needs.
To return to late 1963: the work of the dissolution committee was on course, and the magnitude of the problem was all-absorbing. However, my colleagues in cabinet and caucus were urging me to give more time to the independence issue. I sensed a feeling from among them that Field was not pressing the British hard enough and that things were drifting along. What had happened to our condition that we would not attend the Falls conference unless we received a guarantee in writing confirming our independence?
Field informed me that according to his information Macmillan was about to retire. It had been well known for some time that he had health problems, that his likely successor was Alec Home, and that such a change would clearly be to our benefit. With this I concurred, but thought we should start thinking and planning for such an eventuality. We did not have to wait long: Alec Home took over as Prime Minister in October, and Field suggested that I should visit Britain and check up on the financial assistance which we were promised as a consequence of our co-operation in winding up the Federation. It would also provide an opportunity to see if there was any improvement in our case for independence, now that Home was at the helm. We hoped for a more honest and direct approach. I flew into London on 27 October and, after a full briefing from our High Commissioner, Evan Campbell, arranged for a meeting the following day with Duncan Sandys, who had taken over responsibility for Southern Rhodesia now that Butler had moved to the Foreign Office. I found Sandys abrupt, even tending to aggressiveness, completely devoid of those qualities of diplomacy and tact associated with British ‘statesmen’. After talking at length and without making any headway, I caught Evan Campbell’s eye, and we obviously agreed that we had endured enough. Before departing I felt compelled to point out to Sandys that his offensive attitude was not conducive to harmonious negotiations. For the first time during the meeting he smiled, and said that he thought I had misjudged him!
