Bitter Harvest

by Ian Smith

  At the beginning of that same month, June, I received a message from the British government that, contrary to past precedent, I would not receive an invitation to the pending Commonwealth prime ministers’ conference even though Rhodesian prime ministers had attended all such conferences since their inception in 1931. Clearly, the British had given way to the pressure from the black Commonwealth countries. This was one more sickening example of the British government’s double standards and the policy of appeasement with which we were to be constantly confronted. I expressed my resentment publicly, saying:

  We are not excluded because we are no longer loyal to the Crown or to the ideals on which the Commonwealth was founded. We are excluded because the Commonwealth has outgrown itself and there is no longer room for us among the motley of small countries which have recently been granted independence and admitted to the Commonwealth without regard to their adherence to the ideals and concept on which it was founded. I wonder if we are really wanted in the Commonwealth any longer, and if we can serve any purpose by remaining?

  I have tremendous respect, admiration and loyalty to the Queen, but she is no longer the Queen we used to know. She can no longer speak her own words. She is now the mouthpiece of party politicians in Britain and cannot speak her own mind and heart. Even if the government were to become communist, she would have to utter their sentiments.

  However, I was not prepared to allow this to deflect me from the course of trying to achieve a settlement. I wrote back to Alec Home, reiterating the points on which we sought clarification, and referred to his assertion that Whitehead had not stated in our Parliament, as we had claimed, that the new constitution meant independence. I quoted him the facts from our Hansard, when Whitehead said in his final summing-up in the debate: ‘I would say to all honourable members that over the past eighteen months I have devoted a very substantial part of my time trying to win independence for Southern Rhodesia before it is too late, and I believe we have achieved what we set out to do.’

  I found it extremely trying to cope with people who were so adept at twisting the truth. The British could not possibly deny that, if they had disagreed with this statement of Whitehead’s, they were under an obligation to inform us so. They were bound to be straight and honest with us, especially when they knew the vital importance of what was taking place. This was a decision that was going to affect the whole future of a country, and therefore it was absolutely vital for them to guarantee that people would not be misled, especially by wilfully covering up blatant distortions of the truth — anything else would be monstrous deceit.

  To suggest that the British could have overlooked this, that they were unaware of the fact, would be laughable. The British civil service is noted for its thoroughness and meticulous attention to detail. We knew from our own experience that whenever any of our people said a single word not in keeping with their interpretation or beliefs, the next morning one of their officials was on our doorstep seeking clarification. The awful truth is that they knew that if this was made clear at that time, in 1961, before the Rhodesian electorate had cast their votes in the ensuing referendum, the result would have been ‘No’ and not ‘Yes’. This was the all-important issue, and no one would deny that the decision hinged simply on this fact of the issue on independence. Whitehead said so, Welensky said so, as did all the protagonists for the ‘Yes’-vote. I was one of the main opponents who campaigned against acceptance, and there is no doubt that we lost because Rhodesians believed that, in spite of the imperfections which were conceded, the all-important principle of ensuring our independence in the event of a Federal dissolution, which at this stage was patently obvious, was the determining factor. But British civil servants, especially those in the top echelons, are hand-picked from a waiting list of university graduates, and trained in the ‘diplomatic’ art of deciphering such problems and determining how they can be turned to best advantage. In this case the answer was obvious: to disclose this inconsistency would have been a faux pas of disastrous magnitude. Simply to overlook it was the obvious tactic. This was ‘Perfidious Albion’ at its best.

  The obvious way, in British eyes, to avoid a continuation of this kind of embarrassing correspondence was for me to pay a personal visit to London, particularly in view of the fact that I had stressed the need for the British to give me their clear proposals in writing. These of course would be made public. Evan Campbell sent a message giving Home’s view that it would be preferable to get the impending PMs’ conference out of the way, and then he would welcome a visit from me.

  The conference turned out to be a bit of a damp squib, according to Evan Campbell, with Home managing to preserve some sanity, supported by Menzies of Australia and Sir Keith Holyoake of New Zealand. The Asians displayed no enthusiasm, while the Africans, supported by Canada, were indulging in their usual excesses. I made a brief comment expressing my disapproval that the conference had discussed the affairs of Rhodesia behind my back, and accordingly I treated this arrogant performance with the contempt it deserved.

  In view of the fact that there was to be an election in Britain before the end of the year, probably in October, there was a suggestion that I should delay my visit until the next government was in office. On the other hand it could be advantageous to get a feeling from the Conservatives, in case Labour won the election, and I could take the opportunity to meet with Dr Antonio de Oliveira Salazar in Portugal, en route.

  We left for Portugal on 2 September. It was one of those old-fashioned countries, with little of the flashy high life of the modern world. Existence there was simple and basic, with the people closer to nature, to family life, to straightforward and honest principles and a belief in their own history and culture. They were proud of their achievements: modern shipbuilding yards, an efficient fishing industry, glass and marble factories which produced magnificent masterpieces, some of the best wines in the world, and the high standard of their agriculture. Then there was the Algarve, with its lovely clean beaches and modern buildings, more English than Portuguese, and a favourite place for British pensioners and holidaymakers.

  Salazar was one of the most remarkable men I had met. He was referred to as a dictator of Portugal, but this had no bearing on the truth. He was a quiet, retiring, intellectual university professor, who committed to paper his philosophy for solving the political problems of his country. This had such an appeal that he found himself drawn more and more into political discussions and eventually was almost press-ganged into accepting the position of president. He lived in a modest house where convent nuns cared for him, and there was one security man who controlled the entrance gate. A secretary met me and took me to his office, which was comfortable and adequate. It appealed to me, maybe because it reminded me of my own office, which people sometimes said was not sufficiently imposing for a PM. His eyes were blue and crystal clear; he had grey hair and an aquiline nose. His whole face displayed character and he spoke quietly and in measured tones. His actions were dignified, and everything about him depicted modesty, that characteristic which is probably the most important ingredient of civilised man.

  We had much to talk about, because we had much in common: our concern about the Russian plan for world domination, and about how the Russians were inexorably moving down the African continent. Even more insidious were their moves into key areas in the Middle East and South America. In the face of this threat Salazar was appalled at the complacency of the major powers of the free world. He expressed his special concern for Southern Rhodesia, assuring me that Portugal would continue with its proven policy of evolution in Mozambique and Angola, bringing local people into positions of authority as and when they proved themselves. But it was clear that Britain was coming more and more under the influence of the black members of the Commonwealth, and it was obvious to any logical observer that these countries were being manipulated as tools by the Russians. He was particularly distressed that the British were going along with this, not because they were unaware of what was taking
place, but because of Britain’s policy of appeasing the OAU. His sources confirmed this, and he was pleased at the opportunity to pass it on to me.

  The Portuguese had learned from experience that the British government was not always trustworthy. Did I think there was any hope of the British government meeting our request? I reiterated our case history, pointing out that it was absolutely water-tight, and said that in all honesty I did not see how the British could continue to renege on the agreement which they had made with us. He assured me that he had followed our history meticulously, obviously because of our mutual interests in the area, and that there was no doubt in his mind of the justice of our case. Moreover, he was convinced that what we were trying to do was in the best interests of our black people, as well as of the whites. Then with much circumspection, speaking quietly, almost hesitatingly, he enquired as to whether I planned any action in the event of British intransigence continuing. I stressed that I was a patient man, by nature opposed to impetuosity, but that if we finally came to the conclusion that there was no point in further negotiation, that Britain clearly had no intention of honouring its obligation, expressly because of their desire to appease the OAU, then I must be honest and give him a straight answer: we would take matters into our own hands and declare our independence.

  His serious, almost impassive face suddenly came alight, his eyes sparkled and his mouth stretched into a gentle smile. He did not speak, and I sensed that he was overcome by a certain amount of emotion. He slowly rose from his seat, came up to me, and shook my hand very warmly before resuming his chair. He then said that he was pleased to meet a man who had the courage to put the interests of his country first, and that he could not fault the plan as I had explained it. Regrettably, he was of the opinion that the British would fail to honour the contract which they had made with us, with the consequence that I had mentioned. Portugal would give us maximum support, and according to his information South Africa would do likewise. He thought that the going would not be easy for us, but knowing the calibre of our people he was satisfied that we would finally win through.

  I found the simplicity, sincerity and quiet determination of the man tremendously impressive, and the meeting will remain with me as an unforgettable experience. In my estimation he was a man of great honesty and dedication who could be relied on to stand by his word. Sadly for us, he was not a young man, and time eventually caught up with him. Had he stayed on for an extra decade, Rhodesia would have survived.

  Another outstanding personality we met in Lisbon was Foreign Minister Nogueira, who had an incredible knowledge of the whole world scene, applying to it an analysis and reasoning that was totally absorbing. He spoke the English language as if it was his mother tongue, and was fluent in many more. His wife was of Chinese extraction, and she could speak even more languages than her husband. She was not only highly intelligent, but charming and beautiful.

  The talks with the British commenced on Monday 7 September at 10 Downing Street. The atmosphere was pleasant and the tone constructive. Alec Home appeared genuinely interested in reaching an agreement, but it was obvious that his room for manoeuvre was circumscribed by the views of Commonwealth prime ministers. Sandys also played a constructive role, in spite of his somewhat blunt exterior. The issue centred on our ability to satisfy the British that our proposals had the consent of the peoples concerned. This was no problem for us, and I once again outlined our plan. We would hold a referendum of all voters on the voters’ roll. They were aware there was no racial qualification to our roll. The fact that the black nationalist politicians had advocated a boycott of the rolls was not our responsibility. Those who followed this advice had only themselves to blame. Then there was the major problem of 3 million tribesmen, peasant farmers who had no education and were unable to read and write, but nevertheless had their own traditional system which served them well. At the level of the extended family, or kraal, the leader emerged naturally through acceptance by the family, and, as long as he enjoyed their respect and confidence, he was their representative and spokesman. Whenever a problem arose which involved other kraals in their area, the kraalheads held a joint meeting. If the problem extended beyond their area of jurisdiction, they chose, from their midst, their representative, or Headman, to convey their message to their Chief, who was the leader of a much larger section of people. A Chief usually ruled the people of between four and six Headmen.

  Most problems were solved at that level, but if not, the Chief would take it to the next meeting of the Provincial Chiefs’ Council (there were five provinces). Finally, there was the National Chiefs’ Council. An analysis of the system points to many advantages. I know of no method which gives more honest and genuine representation, stemming from the ‘grassroots’ and ensuring that the people’s feelings are accurately submitted and explained. The system is devoid of corruption, nepotism, intimidation, propaganda and brainwashing, all those evil and undesirable ingredients which play such an important part in modern government. Those of us who live in sub-Saharan Africa, and understand the traditions and customs of the people, have no option other than to condemn the actions of the major free world countries: in their typical arrogant manner, they took it upon themselves to lay down pre-conditions to the grant of independence. The countries concerned were compelled to abandon their tried and proven system, and replace it with the Western democratic system. Everywhere it has been implemented it has resulted in disaster and the complete antithesis of what was anticipated. The result was one man one vote — once. Today sub-Saharan Africa is riddled by one-party dictatorships or military dictatorships, financially bankrupt and in chaos. If only people would come and see for themselves — I have yet to find a single fair-minded person who has not been convinced after a visit. It is easy, when you live ten thousand kilometres away, to prescribe solutions, knowing that if the whole thing blows up and goes sour, you do not have to live with the results. The finest guarantee that the rest of the world can have, that we are completely dedicated to producing the best solution for all of our people, whatever their race, colour or creed, is that we, and our children after us, will have to go on living with the result. Clearly, we could not allow ourselves to be used as a pawn in the game of international politics, or as a means of appeasing the OAU.

  Home and Sandys listened patiently, as did the other two members of their team, Dilhorne, the Lord Chancellor, and Burke Trend, the Cabinet Secretary. Home replied by saying that, while my case was convincing to the British, from their experience of the governments which emanated from the ending of colonialism they accepted that the end-result left a lot to be desired. Unfortunately neither the Commonwealth nor the UN, judging from recent resolutions, would accept our plan. The British government were looking for something which would go beyond an Indaba, a traditional, formal meeting of Chiefs and Headmen, who together amounted to fewer than 1,000 people, and were looking to us for suggestions as to how the referendum could be expanded to cover a wider range of people.

  I made three main points in reply: first, it must be stressed that the great mass of tribesmen had no understanding of the meaning of the word constitution; they had never in their lives voted in an election or a referendum, and any attempt to explain to them the intricacies of our constitution, which, by any standard, was involved and complicated, would be not only farcical, but dishonest. Second, any such exercise would obviously undermine the authority of the Chiefs and the whole tribal structure. For the first time in history the tribespeople would be led to believe that their Chiefs and Headmen were no longer their leaders, and that something else had been introduced into their lives which was absolutely beyond their comprehension. This would provide a happy hunting ground for the extremist politicians, whose objective was to destroy the tribal structure. Anything which maintained law and order, regulated people’s lives and supplied them with services, preserved their standards of justice and freedom, was anathema to the spread of communism. In view of the fact that, currently, the majority of membe
rs of the British Commonwealth, and the UN, were communist-oriented, their actions were predictable. Third, it had been only two years previously that we had brought in our new constitution, created and signed by our two governments. As Duncan Sandys was the British signatory, I did not have to draw this to his attention. What was the reason, I asked, for this sudden change of heart on the part of the British government? Why were they going back on their word? Was it because of conviction, or because of a desire to appease? I felt we were entitled to a straight answer.

  This straight talk seemed to ruffle their feathers, and I was accused of being obstructionist and not facing up to reality. On the contrary, I countered by pointing out that it was the Rhodesians who had to live with our decision — that was the reality. We were being asked to accept an arrangement which would obviously be to the detriment of our country. This we could not do: if we were confronted with such a situation, we would have to go our own way. Both Home and Sandys spoke strongly against such action, believing that there would be serious consequences in it for us. I assured them that we had made our assessment, and as realistic people we were not blinding ourselves to the result. But all the evidence was clearly to the effect that this would be preferable to the alternative we were being offered.

  We had spent many hours in intensive deliberations, and decided to adjourn until the morrow. That night we attended a dinner at 10 Downing Street with Sir Alec and Lady Home and a number of other dignitaries. It was there that I was given the true facts, which confirmed what I suspected all along. With their general election due in a matter of weeks, it would be crass folly for the Conservatives to make such a controversial decision. It would bring down upon them the whole wrath of the OAU, the communist-dominated UN, and the liberal establishment generally. Alec Home said, with what I thought was complete sincerity, that if they won the election he would make an agreement with me within one year, before the next Commonwealth PMs’ conference, and no impending general election hampering his movements.