by Ian Smith
Three days later, on Thursday 31 October, I saw Alec Home, and this was a different and pleasant encounter. We seemed to be operating on the same wavelength, and I was satisfied that he was going out of his way to try to help, but he talked about the problems with the members of the OAU and their obsession with pressing the case of their friends, irrespective of the justice or merit of what was involved.
There were two important points to bear in mind, Home said, when dealing with these people. First, they formed a united bloc, and stood together whether they agreed or not on the issue. This gave them a powerful voice, irrespective of the fact that the majority were bankrupt and in chaos. Second, many European countries were developing a complex over colonialism, with the resultant feeling that they owed something to ‘these poor people’.
Home had noticed that even some of the older members of the Commonwealth were expressing concern that we might provoke a situation which would lead to a break-up of the Commonwealth. I wondered whether we would not be better off without some of them, and expressed the hope that we would not be party to bending the rules and breaking agreements in order to appease these people. On this we agreed, but he stressed the opposition they were running into, and hoped that we would play our part in trying to find a solution. To which I pointed out that our case was a straightforward request for fulfilment of the undertakings given by the British government. He assured me that he was in the picture, but as I knew, there were differences of opinion on this question. He was still settling into his new seat, but would try to get a message to me via Duncan Sandys which I could take back to Salisbury.
Meanwhile I received an invitation from some of my RAF friends to attend a big flying display due to take place on Sunday 3 November. The weather was fine and we took off from the middle of the city in the largest helicopter I had ever seen. The view below of the magnificent English countryside made me think of Shakespeare’s words: ‘This earth of majesty, the other Eden, demi paradise’.
One could only enjoy the fine-looking aircraft, the expertise of the pilots, the friendly people and the warm hospitality. What a pleasant relief from politics with all its artificiality and intrigue! Then one of the organising officials approached me and said that Mr Campbell, our High Commissioner, was on the phone. Evan informed me that Sandys had contacted him personally to express his displeasure that I was attending some function in the country when he had hoped to meet me that day! I asked Evan to send him a courteous message, in contrast to the one he had sent, saying that I was otherwise engaged, and would contact him tomorrow.
When we met the following morning, I opened the conversation by telling him of the wonderful day I had spent at the air display and how impressed I had been at the tremendous progress in British aviation, and that I hoped he and his ministerial colleagues would have an opportunity to witness it themselves. He agreed, albeit unenthusiastically — he really had no option!
We talked at length, and although his demeanour was more congenial than on the previous occasion, the final result gave no cause for joy. He repeated and elaborated on the message which I had been given by Alec Home, stressed the danger of disrupting the Commonwealth, and told me that there would even be opposition from some left-wing Conservative MPs to the agreement for which we were asking. It would assist if we showed some flexibility and, for example, gave blacks greater representation in our Parliament. I told him forcibly that I was surprised at his suggestion, in view of the fact, as I was sure he was aware, that our blacks had the same access to the vote as did our whites. In addition, the 1961 constitution, the brainchild of Sandys and Whitehead, had introduced a ‘B’ roll to cater especially for our black people, and the lack of greater representation of blacks in our Parliament could be traced to the fact that they had accepted the advice of their Nationalist leaders and boycotted the elections. I asked: what was the British government doing to put over this kind of message?
I was fed the typically evasive tactics which are the hallmark of British politicians. Sandys believed that our discussions had been useful, and that after my return it would be wise for our governments to commit themselves on paper. I was not so sanguine, believing that British decisions would be motivated by their own party interests, certainly not the best interests of Southern Rhodesia.
David Young, Deputy Secretary in the Ministry of Finance, accompanied me on the trip to make plans for the financial assistance we had been promised in conjunction with our co-operation in the dissolution exercise. Obviously, the British officials were waiting for the signal that we were acquiescing to the machinations of their political masters, and when this did not happen, Young came away empty-handed.
My report did not surprise my cabinet colleagues, and clearly had the effect of making them more determined to bring the matter to finality. We therefore dispatched a message to London requesting clarification as a result of my visit, but the reply once again was evasive. Then, like a bolt from the blue, in early December a message came from Sandys suggesting that Field attend a meeting with them in London at which Sir Robert Menzies (Australia), Lester Pearson (Canada) and Julius Nyerere (Tanzania) were present, to help solve the Southern Rhodesia issue. We rejected the idea immediately, pointing out to the British that they had consistently stated that our case was between Britain and Rhodesia and that outside participation was unwelcome. They were compromising on principle in order to gain time through delaying tactics.
Both cabinet and caucus were incensed at the latest developments, and the suggestion of bringing in one of the discredited black leaders to sit in judgment on our case was especially offensive. Although the Conservatives were traditionally our friends, it was plain that the dominating issue before them was their impending general election, and the Rhodesian issue was to be relegated to the background until that had taken place.
Some caucus members were growing restless and asked for a meeting with me; they believed that Field was losing the initiative and allowing the British to out-manoeuvre him. Federal MPs and even ministers were saying that Field had bungled the whole thing by climbing down on his demand for an ‘undertaking in writing agreeing to our independence’ before attending the Falls conference, and that he was now letting it slip through his hands.
A group of six approached me, and expressed themselves most forcibly in their condemnation of the British government’s devious behaviour. Unless Field was prepared to confront them, he would have to go. Among the delegation were two retired British army officers who had come to settle in Southern Rhodesia after the last war, Alan McLeod, who had been awarded the DSO on three occasions — and (the story went) had been recommended for the VC on two of those — and Andrew Dunlop, who wore the DSO ribbon. These two, maybe because they were by birth such true-blood Britishers, were bitter in their condemnation, especially of the Conservatives, whose dishonesty, they averred, was utterly despicable. They made their case unemotionally and with dignity, and gave the impression that either of them would have been happy to take on the whole British government single-handed! These were the calibre of men who had made Great Britain great. The other four, just Rhodesians like myself, were no less forgiving. All of them were in no mood to be sidetracked. It was therefore no easy task for me to convince them that all of us in cabinet, including Field, shared their strong feelings.
We now had a plan for Field to make one more visit, in a final effort to bring the British government to its senses. If that failed, we would have to contemplate more serious action. At the caucus meeting which followed, there was strong criticism of Field, and only when I backed him up and pleaded for patience for one more attempt were those leading the attack prepared to relent. The attitude of caucus appeared united. As we walked down the passage of Parliament at the close of the meeting, Field thanked me for my support, and I sensed a kind of sad desperation about him. My comment was that we could still live in hope, more to comfort him than from any strong conviction. I was upset at the way things were going, because the two of us had bee
n the main participants in an unbelievably successful operation: the ousting of the defunct Whitehead government and the replacing of it with something which gave Rhodesians hope. We worked well together, there was understanding and trust between us. But clearly he was losing the confidence of his caucus, and some of his ministers were beginning to ask questions. In all honesty there had been a few occasions when my faith was put to the test, but I thought he could still redeem himself by confronting the British government. The time had come for a virtual ultimatum from him to the British: ‘You must honour your commitment to us over our independence, or you force us into a position where we will have no alternative other than to take matters into our own hands. The timing would be for us to decide.’
When I talked it over with him, he was unenthusiastic. He said that we would have intolerable forces mounted against us, and he did not believe he could go along with my line of thinking. Better we should continue to negotiate; in the end the British would come to their senses, particularly since we knew how disenchanted they were with the performance of the newly independent countries to our north. I disagreed, believing that the OAU would grow in strength, not through performance or the justice of their cause, but because of the guilt-conscience of the free world. Already history had proved that they would resort to appeasement and back down, no matter how outrageous the demands. Our recent contacts and communication with the British had endorsed my feelings. Although the opportunity would present itself on Field’s impending visit to London, I had a gut-feeling that he would not rise to the occasion.
His trip took place the end of January 1964, and his talks with Home gave him hope that if the Conservatives won the coming election, they would definitely meet our request. But there were two serious drawbacks: the current feeling was that the Conservatives would lose the election, and second, Home was not prepared to commit himself in writing. The talks with Sandys were not so congenial, but Field left a paper stating our recommendations for the consideration of the British government. He told me of his conviction that Home was a man of his word, who would not let us down.
Within a matter of a few weeks, however, all our hopes were dashed. In the typically autocratic manner that one had grown to expect from Sandys, our proposals were rejected out of hand on the grounds that they would be unacceptable to the rest of the Commonwealth. Certain members would resign if our proposals were accepted. All the main issues were evaded: the long list of promises made by the British government, the impeccable record of Rhodesia, our loyalty to the mother country, our participation at the Falls conference and the agreement struck in this connection; the list went on and on. Once again it was made abundantly clear that we were merely a pawn in the game. The British patently recognised the seriousness of what they were doing, and as part of their message pointed out the dangers associated with a unilateral declaration of independence (UDI), and the consequences which we would suffer therefrom. Our team, though, was united in its frustration at such prevarication, and was unable to contain its disgust over British hypocrisy and double standards. Field certainly shared in these feelings. Our views were stated clearly in the address made by the Governor, Sir Humphrey Gibbs, at the Opening of Parliament which took place on 25 February, 1964:
It is now plain that the British government are not prepared to be brought to any conclusion on the question of independence except on the most extravagant terms, not because of misgivings about my government’s competence and ability to govern in the interest of the country, or the logic or rightness of my minister’s case, but because they wish to placate at all costs members of the Commonwealth who have declared openly their hostility to my government and my country.
There was talk of UDI throughout the country, and the message from caucus was that it looked as if things were coming right. Des Lardner-Burke, an attorney from Gwelo, the capital city of the Midlands, produced on 11 March 1964 the constructive idea of passing a Bill through our Parliament requesting Britain to give legislative effect to the convention that Britain would not interfere in the internal affairs of Southern Rhodesia. After all, how many times had we been assured that the convention was as good as a guarantee? The principle had been reiterated and underlined in the recent 1961 agreement signed by Sandys and Whitehead and incorporated in our new constitution. It was emphasised strongly by both Welensky and Whitehead in their referendum campaign supporting the new constitution. In all honesty and justice, on what grounds could there be any objection, other than some cunning scheme to retain for the British government the power to do what they had consistently claimed — both Labour and Conservative governments — they would not do? There was a positive feeling that this would have enabled Field to hold his caucus together.
Surprisingly, when the vote was taken in Parliament, although we had the necessary majority, Whitehead and the other UFP members voted against it. We were completely taken aback at this two-faced behaviour. At the last referendum they had assured the electorate that this was what they were voting for, and now they were refusing to support us in securing Britain’s confirmation in writing. Those of us who live in Africa know from experience that this is the kind of thing we live with: white liberals climbing on the bandwagon of black nationalist movements, hoping to gain favours in return. It was bad enough having to cope with this kind of behaviour from the British, but coming from our own Rhodesians, this was blatant treason. There was another factor which influenced the UFP: they had never forgiven us for beating them at the last election, committing the unpardonable crime, for the first time in history, of ousting the Establishment. From that time onwards, we noticed a sullen resentment, and a lack of communication and assistance in our running battle with the British government, never more obvious than at the Victoria Falls conference.
Sadly, the British government informed us that they would not accept our motion. Sandys, plainly embarrassed, had passed a verbal message to our High Commissioner in London. Obviously we had called their bluff! It was clear from Campbell’s message that the British had salved their consciences by using the pretext that the UFP had not supported us in Parliament. The matter never came to a head, however, because Field decided, after receiving a message from Sandys, to shelve the procedure of forwarding the Bill. By so doing, he lost the opportunity of putting to the test the convention of non-interference in our internal affairs, because our Governor (the Queen’s resident representative) would have signed on our behalf, while the British government would have advised the Queen not to consent! For the first time in our history, Britain would have breached the convention, proving conclusively and publicly that any agreement made with their government was not worth the paper it had been written on. But all of this had the effect of putting Field more and more on the spot. Distrust of the British grew by the day. Northern Rhodesia and Nyasaland had received their independence, with acclaim. And what had they done to earn this? What was their record? In all honesty it was almost non-existent, consisting of little other than the continual hurling of abuse and insult at Britain.
Caucus had endured more than enough. What was Field going to do? Why had he sidelined Lardner-Burke’s Bill? Meetings were the order of the day, and feelings were running high. Field believed that we should allow more time, but his critics believed that time was not on our side, and that he was guilty of procrastination. A few backbenchers who were known for their moderation and logical thinking confided in me their belief that Field would not be prepared to confront the British, that the British knew this, and that this was the reason for their continual evasion: they knew they could get away with it. While resisting it at first, the backbenchers had come to realise that he must step down. Jack Howman and I were the only members of cabinet who had not been with Field as members of the Dominion Party, and it was his ex-colleagues who first came to the conclusion that he must go. For a long while I had urged patience; this is part of my character, and in addition I felt a loyalty to the man, as I was his deputy. But in the end I too had come to the conclusi
on that he would never get himself to face the crunch, not because he lacked courage, but because he was unable to accept that his kith-and-kin Britishers in Britain would betray their kith-and-kin Britishers in another part of the world. Tragically, he was wrong.
The decision was made by caucus, which was their right. Jack Howman said he was unable to go along with it, and he spoke to me afterwards indicating that in no way did this indicate personal opposition to me. He had entered the political arena only a couple of years ago as a result of a personal request from Field. They had established a friendship and a mutual loyalty which he could not abandon. In no way did this affect the great friendship which existed between us. He went into the wilderness for a couple of years, and then came back into the fold, saying that he was impressed with the dignified manner in which I had handled what he knew was, to me, a difficult and unhappy situation, and that there had been no rancour and recrimination. If he could be of any assistance in helping the cause, he said, he was available. I am happy to say that in time I brought him back into the cabinet, and he contributed many years of invaluable service. One other member of caucus, Rollo Hayman, also expressed reservation: while he was concerned about the way things were going, he was in favour of giving Field more time. Caucus disagreed.
