by Ian Smith
Bottomley gave the game away in a statement made on his return from Zambia, on 27 October, to the effect that their strategy had been deliberately aimed at backing the efforts of Todd, Whitehead and Welensky in swaying the Rhodesian electorate away from supporting us in the referendum. This, of course, was a serious breach of the often repeated convention that the British government would not interfere in Rhodesia’s internal affairs. If I were searching for reasons to support a UDI, they were making a positive contribution.
It looked as if Wilson was beginning to get the message that his bull-headed tactics would not work, and he sent a message on 17 November saying that the British government were hoping for a peaceful solution and that they had ‘no preconceived plan’, i.e. they were open to negotiation. On this basis he suggested that I should visit London for discussions with him. He had failed to do his homework on this one, and I reminded him of his letter, sent to one of our black agitators just two weeks before the last election which brought Labour to power, in which he had said: ‘The Labour Party is totally opposed to granting independence to Southern Rhodesia as long as the Government of that country remains under the control of the white minority.’
In my reply I reaffirmed that independence should be based on the wishes of the majority, and that in keeping with this he should accept the results of the Indaba and the referendum of the electorate. However, I found the spirit of his latest communication with me to be in conflict with this letter (to the black agitator) referred to above, and accordingly I believed it was necessary for him to confirm to me this change in British government policy.
Wilson’s reply was evasive and reiterated a number of generalities that we had heard before. I allowed a couple of weeks to pass and on 15 December sent a message regretting that he had failed to reply to my question. In addition I thought it appropriate to give them some straight talk about the record of their government during the short period they had been in office:
It is with regret that I have to record that during the short tenure of office of your Government there has been a drastic deterioration in relations between our two Governments. Your Boycott of the Indaba, which was planned in complete sincerity and good faith and which was condemned by you before you had even shown the courtesy and fair-mindedness to listen to the evidence, had given us cause for suspicion. Moreover, the attempt on the part of your Government to intimidate us through the medium of economic blackmail, and threats to place us virtually in the category of an enemy state is something which has caused deep resentment in the minds of Rhodesians.
I went further and, in reference to Wilson’s recent remark indicating his concern over the communist threat to Africa, reminded him that we had been aware of this for some considerable time and had continually warned the Western world about it. I hoped it was unnecessary for me to repeat that we had pointed out to him that ‘the leaders of subversion in our country whom your Government is so desirous of meeting are financed from these same Communist sources’. I asked if the recent violence in the Congo (where black mobs had rampaged through white settlements assaulting, raping and murdering) had changed his government’s attitude to the Rhodesian problem.
If not, I must impress upon you the seriousness of this situation, and indicate that I believe our two countries will continue to drift further apart, as they have done over the past two months, and that relations between us will become more and more strained until eventually a break will become inevitable.
Finding himself in a corner with no ready reply, Wilson changed his strategy. Officials of our two governments were still engaged in talks about the financial aid promised to Rhodesia as part of the winding up of the Federation, and he decided to use this as a lever to get his way, by sending a message through Johnston, his High Commissioner in Salisbury, to Gerald Clarke, our Cabinet Secretary, saying inter alia:
The undertakings which the British Government gave the Rhodesian Government at the time of the dissolution of the Federation were of course entered into on the assumption that political relations between our two countries would remain normal. My Government feel it would be less than honest not to recognise that talk of a UDI is bound to throw a shadow of uncertainty on the future financial relations between the two Governments. In the absence of any assurance on this subject the British Government think it would be preferable to defer further financial talks until it has been possible to clear the air by discussions on the political issues.
This was absolutely scandalous. The Victoria Falls Agreement included a written promise of financial aid to Rhodesia in exchange for our co-operation in winding up the Federation. We had complied with our side of the agreement and now the British were trying to back out of their commitment, in order to pressurise us into dancing to their tune. This was blatant blackmail, which one might expect if dealing with a bunch of gangsters. I replied to him on 13 January 1965: ‘I am so incensed at the line of your High Commissioner’s letter that I am replying directly to you.’ Was I correct to assume, I asked, that he intended to break a legal agreement between our governments because he believed there might be a breakdown in negotiations? In fact the impasse was caused because he would not give a straight answer to my straight question. I went on:
As you are not prepared to abide by these agreements and intend to stand by the policy openly revealed in your High Commissioner’s letter, it would appear that any undertakings given by the British Government are worthless. I must therefore state emphatically that such immoral behaviour on the part of the British Government makes it impossible for me to continue negotiations with you with any confidence that our standards of fair play, honesty and decency will prevail.
Wilson did not reply for more than two months. In all honesty he could not have found it easy. Then on 29 March he sent a message denying any attempt to exert financial pressure, and mentioning certain commitments and payments which had been made. But these had been initiated by the previous Conservative government. It was a wishy-washy effort and made no positive contribution to the situation. Surprisingly, the financial talks had resumed, although they took place covertly, without any formal notification. In fact, we had reconciled ourselves to a situation where there would be little, if any, British assistance, and we were getting on with our own affairs. Happily, the economy was showing positive signs after the depression which followed in the wake of the Federal dissolution. People were growing to realise that Rhodesia was going to stand its ground.
In the midst of all this there was a short dramatic intervention: Churchill died. I was invited to his funeral on Saturday 30 January. This was laid down in Churchill’s will; had the decision been left to Wilson I would certainly not have been invited. I flew into London the day before, 29 January, and found Evan Campbell deeply incensed over the fact that he had not received any invitation for me to a lunch at Buckingham Palace on the day following the funeral. He had ascertained through his network that the other PMs had received theirs; clearly, this was a bit more of Wilson’s dirty work! I urged Evan to relax, saying that it would have no effect on me personally.
The funeral was a magnificent exhibition of British pomp and ceremony at its best; I doubt whether any other country in the world can match Britain at that kind of thing. Everybody who was anybody was there. I had a few words with Alec Home, Robert Menzies and Keith Holyoake, and General de Gaulle and I nodded to one another. After it was all over we went our own ways, and Evan apologised that he had arranged a lunch at his home with the South African Ambassador and a few other friends, believing that I would be at the Buckingham Palace lunch. That was no problem, and so I returned to my hotel with a few friends for a quiet lunch, which we were enjoying when a gentleman in a splendid uniform came up to our table. He informed me that he was the Queen’s equerry, and as the Queen had noticed that I was not present at the lunch, she had asked him to make enquiries. On contacting Mr Evan Campbell he had been given the message that I had received no invitation. (Wilson would write later in his memoirs the arra
nt nonsense that Evan Campbell told him that I had received the invitation and, in fact, had it in my pocket while lunching at the hotel.) The Queen was concerned, the equerry said, and had sent him post-haste to the hotel to express apologies and ask me to accompany him. Obviously my friends appreciated the predicament. I bade them farewell and, leaving my half-eaten lunch on the table, left for the Palace.
As soon as I walked in, the Queen left the people with whom she was in conversation and came to greet me, expressing her sorrow over the non-arrival of my invitation. She could not have been more gracious, and in a few minutes we were joined by Prince Philip. I was touched by the genuine interest they showed in Rhodesia, and also by how well informed they were. I was impressed, too, by the amount of time they devoted to talking with me, and by their sincere hope that our problem would be solved amicably. It was a happy and worthwhile occasion, which gave me the opportunity to meet and chat with a number of people, including some Asians who were most friendly and considerate over the problems we were facing. A few of the black delegates also spoke encouragingly and in what seemed to be a very short space of time the afternoon had passed. When I returned to my hotel room there was a letter lying on my bed: the invitation to the lunch. The next day, Evan Campbell told me that he had heard the previous evening that Wilson was spitting mad at the luncheon. Campbell added: ‘Well, the Queen certainly foiled his plot!’
Wilson had suggested at the Buckingham Palace lunch that, as we were both in the city together, we should have a talk at Downing Street at 4 p.m. Evan (back from his lunch) and I discussed the pros and cons of this in view of my latest message reiterating my request for a straight answer and insisting on honesty and fair play from the British if we were going to make any progress. I concluded, however, that the best way of dealing with these points would be in a face-to-face discussion. The major objective was our independence issue, and Wilson’s pettiness and destructive behaviour should be ignored. His secretary had suggested that in order to avoid publicity we should use the side entrance. My reply was that whatever entrance we used would not affect the tone or result of the meeting. Wilson, again, would twist this in his memoirs to put me in a bad light by claiming that I had suggested a clandestine entrance through the back door because it was difficult for me to come through the front door. Why was it difficult for me? Why should I be so melodramatic? After all, I was keen to publicise my cause, not hide from the press.
At 4 p.m. Evan accompanied me to 10 Downing Street through some side entrance, and Wilson was pleasant enough and spoke in a most reasonable manner. He had a suggestion which he hoped would help to break the deadlock: a visit to Rhodesia by Bottomley, accompanied by the Lord Chancellor, Gardiner, to meet and discuss matters with the government and meet a representative cross-section of opinion. I saw no problem as long as they accepted the condition which we had always stipulated, namely no meetings with anyone who was in prison for a criminal offence. Otherwise, we would expect them to conduct themselves in a normal and responsible manner, and plan an itinerary with our officials. Wilson accepted this, and I undertook to consult with my people on my return, and officially communicate our reply. There was little else of importance to discuss, as Wilson wished to await the report of Bottomley and Gardiner. I ended by reminding him that we were still awaiting a reply to my last message to him, and he nodded his head and said that there had been some misunderstanding. It turned out to be a very tame meeting, with none of the sparks flying that had been anticipated.
On Sunday morning, Evan brought the message that I had been invited to the Savoy for morning tea with Robert Menzies and Keith Holyoake. It was obvious to us that Wilson had asked them to try and twist my arm over the independence issue, but I said I would be very happy to have a chat with them as we had much in common. I arrived at the Savoy promptly at eleven o’clock and had a warm reception from Menzies and Holyoake. We settled down to my favourite drink, tea. I then took the initiative and said to Menzies: ‘The Springboks gave your cricketers a pretty good lesson on the last tour, didn’t they?’ He was a great fan of cricket, and I knew that this would be a sound tactic for opening the bowling. He came back immediately: ‘Our weakness was with our opening bowlers, and I told our people back home that if we could get some of those Rhodesians playing on our side, we would have won.’ He was right. Godfrey Lawrence was one of the best opening bowlers in the world at that time, and Colin Bland one of the greatest fielders the game has ever seen. I made the point that if Don Bradman had still been playing he might have been able to cope with them. Of course, said Menzies, if one could arrange a game between the eleven best Australians and eleven best Springboks of this century, that would certainly be something worth watching. One can keep up that kind of conversation for a very long time, but after half an hour, and starting my second cup of tea, I turned to Keith Holyoake. As most people probably know, if cricket is Australia’s national sport, rugby union is certainly New Zealand’s. And two of the greatest rugby union teams in the world are the All Blacks (New Zealand) and Springboks (South Africa). ‘I just want you to know, Keith, that the Springboks have perfected a new technique in their rugby and they believe it’s a world beater, so in view of the All Blacks’ coming tour of South Africa I thought I would pass the message on to you.’ Without blinking an eyelid he said: ‘We know all about that, we’ve had our observers over there for some time now!’ After about a quarter of an hour of rugby talk Menzies said, looking at the time, ‘We must get moving to our next appointment.’ He then looked at me with a twinkle in his eye: ‘We were actually supposed to have talked some politics with you.’ To which I replied: ‘I had guessed that.’ He went on: ‘I always said that I didn’t think you would resort to any unreasonable action.’ I simply came back: ‘You can be sure of that.’ So ended a pleasant occasion. Wilson was to accuse me, in his memoirs, of failing to mention to Menzies my meeting with him, Wilson, at Downing Street. Well, there is no surprise in that. As I have said, we did not discuss politics.
I returned home and, in due course, Bottomley and Gardiner arrived in Salisbury, on 22 February. They displayed considerable energy in moving around the country. At a meeting with the Council of Chiefs there was some very straight talking and, according to our reports on a number of occasions, Bottomley was left feeling uncomfortable. The clear message he received was that the Chiefs were conscious of the disaster in Africa around them as a result of the granting of independence, and it was their wish to continue to work with the Rhodesian government.
The meetings with the black extremists took Bottomley by surprise, for they refused to accept his suggestion that they should renounce violence and work constitutionally. He had meetings with farmers, industrialists, professional bodies and trade unionists; they all gave him the same message: they wanted the British out. In discussion with some of my ministers he seemed quite a changed man, but once back in the midst of his Labour comrades in London, he was quickly moved back into line. They were not concerned with the facts from Rhodesia, they were dedicated to placating their comrades at the OAU and the UN. Two events took place during Bottomley’s visit. The South African government gave us a substantial loan on easy terms, and a Portuguese trade delegation arrived for talks. The British government paid serious attention to these events; we obviously had good friends in strategic places.
Bottomley’s report to the House of Commons was more reasonable and conciliatory than we had expected. He gave a balanced analysis of the opinions which were expressed to him and ended:
We emphasised that it was not our intention to impose majority rule by force and reiterated that whatever settlement was reached must be acceptable to the majority of the population of Rhodesia. I am not without hope of finding a way towards a solution that will win the support of all communities and lead to independence and prosperity for all Rhodesians.
He avoided being specific on the question that really mattered, but perhaps this was because Wilson had decided to re-enter the fray: at long last he sent
a message to me on 29 March. It was placatory and much along the lines of Bottomley’s report to the House. He was not satisfied, however, with our test of acceptability, nor that the 1961 constitution was acceptable as a basis for independence, nor did he reply to my outstanding questions. He proposed another meeting with me in London, but I was still of the opinion that this would only delay matters, as he was still evading the main issue.
The Final Steps to UDI
I came to the conclusion at this juncture in 1965 that one of the means of strengthening my hand would be to increase my majority in our Parliament. It was clear that politicians in Britain dreamed of getting rid of Smith and the Rhodesian Front and replacing them with more malleable left-wingers, so if we could prove that this idea was a non-starter it might have a positive effect on both the British government and public opinion. Moreover, with our present majority we were not in a position to pass constitutional amendments through our House, and the time might come when we would need to do this. So there were exceptional circumstances which pointed to our holding an early election, rather than continuing for another two years, as we were entitled to do. Of course, one always takes a chance at this game, we might have lost and been out of power. But then it was important for me to know where I stood with my electorate. Rhodesians were certainly going through testing times, and if I did not have the backing of the people, then the honest thing would be to move out. My personal feeling was that I had endured enough outside interference in the affairs of my country; unless this could be terminated we would lose everything we believed in. I was prepared to make the necessary decisions, and face the consequences, honestly believing that this was our only hope. I would, however, take a lead in this only if convinced that I had the blessing of the Rhodesian people.
