by Ian Smith
On 31 March 1965 I went to see the Governor, Sir Humphrey Gibbs, and laid before him my plan. I believed that if I could increase my majority in Parliament it would strengthen my hand in the negotiations, and this might help to bring the British to their senses. I added that a two-thirds majority necessary for constitutional changes would be desirable. He told me that, in view of the fact that there were still two years’ life of this Parliament to run, he would have to ask David Butler (leader of the opposition in succession to Whitehead) if he could form a government. Although he accepted that it was a formality, Gibbs said he was obliged to do this constitutionally. I agreed, and so he turned to St Quinton, his secretary, who was present at the meeting, and asked him to get on the phone. Fortunately Butler was available and arrived within a short time. We were having a cup of tea and a chat on the farming season (Gibbs was still actively farming in Matabeleland) when Butler was shown in. Gibbs simply told him that I wished to hold a general election and asked him if he could form a government. Without hesitation, Butler said, ‘No.’ ‘Well, that settles that,’ replied Gibbs.
Realising the importance of the election, I extended myself to the limit, and held meetings in nearly every corner of the country. These attracted massive audiences, larger than had ever been seen in the country, indicating a political awakening among our people. Surprisingly, many previous opponents came forward in support. For these obvious reasons we were confident of an increased majority, but the results exceeded even our most optimistic expectations. On 7 May, we won all fifty ‘A’ roll seats — both Butler and Whitehead lost their seats — the electorate had given them a clear message. Of the fifteen ‘B’ roll seats, thirteen went to black candidates, one to an Asian and one to a white man, Dr Ahrn Palley.
In the official speech opening the new Parliament, it was made clear that we believed we now had a mandate to lead Rhodesia to full independence and that it was our intention ‘to pursue vigorously the negotiations with the British government for the grant to Rhodesia of independence’. For the first time in our history we had a black leader of the opposition, Josiah Gondo, an able man with strong convictions, and someone with whom I was able to work. Sadly, he was later killed in a motor accident. Had he been alive today I believe he could have made a positive contribution.
What more did the British government require to prove that the majority of people in Rhodesia wanted their independence under the present constitution? The Indaba of Chiefs and Headmen had given unanimous support, the referendum had given a positive affirmative vote, and now the general election had indicated total support. If the British government would not accept this overwhelming evidence, then we wanted their reasons, without equivocation. We had endured enough evasion and double talk.
We then received a message through the local British High Commission, pointing out that the Commonwealth prime ministers’ conference was to be held in London shortly, in the middle of June. The British proposed to attempt to steer it away from extreme action, and stated that if we avoided provocative action it would obviously help. With the reasonableness which we had always shown, we agreed.
After all the ‘hot air’ of the Commonwealth conference had blown away, a suggestion came from the British that we should accept another visit from Bottomley, and we agreed. In fact, they decided to send Cledwyn Hughes, the Minister of State, and he arrived on 21 July. It was immediately apparent that he did not have the power to make decisions, and was simply putting out feelers in the hope that he could take something back with him. We made it clear that there was only one way out of the predicament, and unless the British government accepted this, we would have to get on with it ourselves. In one of my public remarks I commented: ‘When we have our independence we will also have what the independent countries to our north do not have, economic independence, without which there is no real independence.’ In one of the discussions I told him we would accept a senate with a blocking mechanism in the hands of blacks, and if that did not meet their requirements, what exactly would? We had asked this question many times, in vain.
We waited and waited for a reply, and it became more and more clear that, in spite of all our efforts, the British were not prepared to make a clear decision. The local High Commission offered, as an excuse, the fact that Bottomley was visiting Ghana and other west African countries. This merely confirmed our long-held suspicions: they were consulting the bankrupt and communist dictatorships before replying to us. Had not Ghana staged one of the early coups in Africa?
Our considered opinion was moving in the direction of a declaration of independence, nothing emotional or impetuous. Even the more cautious members of cabinet were saying: ‘What more can we do?’ It seemed to me that the British government was misinterpreting our reasonableness and patience as a sign of weakness. If so, this was a major blunder, for I would have thought that any observant person would have detected a quiet determination, motivated by our belief in the justice of our cause, and our growing resentment at the deceit and treacherous behaviour of those with whom we were dealing. At one of my public meetings I expressed the spirit of Rhodesia by quoting those tremendous words: ‘All the soul of man is resolution, which in valiant men falters never, until their last breath.’ I was told afterwards that this had brought tears to many eyes and lumps to many throats. Rhodesians did not flinch from the thought; they were ready for it.
Then Bottomley put his foot in it with a statement made in Ghana, that Britain would grant independence to Rhodesia only if there was majority rule in the country. This was contrary to everything that had previously been stated. One of the established British principles, supported by all parties, was: ‘unimpeded progress to majority rule’. How could there be progress to something which had already been achieved? If this principle was now violated the game was up; there was nothing more to talk about. It had the effect of making Rhodesians more determined and more united. Bottomley was eventually alarmed at reports of the resentment his words had aroused and sent a message on 7 September expressing deep concern. His government, he wrote, had studied Hughes’s report, and he felt it was necessary for him to visit Rhodesia for talks with me. But in view of the Labour Party conference at the end of the month, he would be able to make the trip only after 12 October.
I replied, asking why there had been no response to the proposals we made to Hughes. It was now 11 September and we had been waiting since 27 July for a reply. I stressed that the impression was gaining ground that the British government had no intention of granting independence to Rhodesia. I asked: did they realise that the question was one of extreme urgency to us? Were the proposals given to Hughes acceptable or not? In Bottomley’s reply he asked: ‘What proposals?’ It would have been laughable if it had not been so desperately serious. I said that I had come to the conclusion that we should make one more effort, no matter how bleak the prospect, and if the British were not prepared to make the effort to come to Rhodesia, we would go to Britain. I emphasised that the talks would have to be final and conclusive, as Rhodesians were sick of indecision: ‘I cannot go on much longer leaving the people of Rhodesia and the future of Rhodesia hanging in suspense.’
I arrived in London on 5 October with Lardner-Burke (Justice) and we joined up with Wrathall (Finance) and Harper (Internal Affairs) and van der Byl (Information), who had gone ahead. The talks were long and tedious, with no sign of any honest intention from the British side; in fact, quite the reverse, with all their effort directed at extracting more from us. They were asking for so many changes in the 1961 constitution that the end result would in no way resemble what we had started with, and when I pointed this out they conceded that this was their idea. We believed that a senate would be the ideal place for the Chiefs and were prepared to give them the majority of the seats, involving a blocking mechanism in the hands of blacks. But this was unacceptable to the communist-dominated OAU, and thus unacceptable to the British Labour Party. The fact that we were trying to bring in a system of checks and balances, akin
to the House of Lords, made no impression.
Would we be prepared to lower our standards in order to accommodate our black people? The answer was simple: the fact that blacks were not participating had no relevance to standards. It was occasioned because the black nationalists had forced a boycott of the system. If one lived in the part of the world where we lived, one very clearly realised the importance of maintaining standards, not lowering them. Moreover, we reminded them that the existing standards were part of a constitution supported by the British government and they had been party to creating it and bringing it on to the statute books. Obviously, they were now resorting to politics of convenience and appeasement.
Wilson then turned to the Land Apportionment Act, and asked if we would be prepared to repeal it. We pointed out that modifications were constantly being made. If there were any specific aspects which needed attention, we would willingly consider them, but it was a much more complicated matter than appeared on the surface. For example, were the British aware that if the Act was repealed this would throw open the tribal trust lands to all races? These lands had from the beginning been reserved for the exclusive use of tribesmen, protecting them from the big consortia, and the expertise, experience and finance of our white community. This would be absolutely catastrophic for our black people. There was a stony silence from the other side of the table. There were other examples of the dreadful ignorance of the British, which indicated all too plainly that they were not being guided by the interests of the country and its people, but were being motivated by political expediency, and a desire to meet the extravagant wishes of their friends, no matter what the cost.
I warned that their intransigence, and the fact that they were placing extraneous and foreign interests before the considerations of Rhodesia, was driving us into a corner. Clear signs were emerging that the vacillating policy of no finality was eroding confidence, with a resultant decrease in investment and an increase in emigration. If we allowed this to continue it would be a dreadful betrayal of the trust placed in us by our people, both black and white. Looking Wilson straight in the eyes I stated in a measured and deliberate tone that they were placing us in a situation where we would have no option but to take matters into our own hands. I did not want them to claim that we had not made them aware of the seriousness of the situation.
It was clear that we had exploited all avenues of possible agreement. Repetition and recrimination were creeping in. It was Friday 8 October, so we decided on a communiqué: ‘Despite intensive discussion, no means has been found of reconciling opposing views. No further meeting is planned.’
I was surprised that Wilson and the rest of them agreed to put into writing that our differences were so great as to make our positions irreconcilable. It was plain to us that this was a blunder, because it established the fact that there was only one way out for us.
It was also accepted that each side was free to issue its own statement, and I said:
We had done our utmost to meet the British government on their five principles and in the process put forward many constructive suggestions which, if accepted, would have established a basis for independence that would have been fair to all parties concerned. The facts of the matter are that as the Rhodesian ministers suggested new proposals to help meet the British point of view, so the latter’s demands increased, in the end rendering it impossible for the opposing views to be reconciled.
Later that day we were to be confronted by the nasty pettiness of the Labour Party. The BBC had invited me to appear that evening on their popular Twenty-Four Hours programme, and the plans were made. However, shortly before my departure for the studios, Rhodesia House was informed that I would not be required. The Chairman of the BBC, Lord Normanbrook, subsequently conceded, in reply to questions, that this had been done as a result of a request from 10 Downing Street. And Wilson subsequently conceded the point in debate in the House of Commons.
It was a fact that I had been interviewed by the BBC shortly after our arrival, and that this had a very favourable impact on the listening public, who previously had been denied our side of the story. Wilson knew this, and decided to take no more chances, especially as it was so easy to censor it. Such is the power of the mass communications media, and the ease with which they can be manipulated.
I decided to delay our departure in order to make contact with the Conservatives, and ensure that we did not miss any last minute opportunities. On Saturday I spent a happy afternoon at Twickenham with my rugby friends, lunched on Sunday with Robert Salisbury and his family at Hatfield, and that evening had a meeting with the Conservative leaders Home, Edward Heath (the new leader of the opposition) and Selwyn Lloyd and formulated a plan which they then took to Wilson. The idea was to have a treaty which would guarantee that there would be no regression as far as political rights and advancement were concerned. The treaty would have international backing, and the Privy Council would be brought in as a final Court of Appeal. There would be increased efforts in the field of education, and all of this would promote economic advancement and thus black participation in government.
It would have been difficult for Wilson to turn the suggestion down, especially as he was being criticised for his blunder over the communiqué at the end of the talks on Friday, and this would give him an opportunity to redeem himself. He suggested a meeting for the next morning, Monday 11 October, and I agreed.
We made it clear when we met that the concept of a treaty as an additional guarantee was completely acceptable to us. As we had never entertained any ideas of breaking agreements or contracts, there was no problem.
It is pertinent for me to mention here that there were occasions when it was suggested, not by any member of my government, that we should accept an agreement, and then as and when necessary bend it to our requirements, as had been done in so many other parts of Africa. I always made it absolutely clear, however, that any such thought was completely out of the question. Apart from the blatant dishonesty associated with it, we were going to continue living in Rhodesia, and the idea of pulling a fast one over fellow Rhodesians was insane. And that is the most secure guarantee that anyone in the world can have: when people are dealing with their own lives, the future of their children and grandchildren, they will be meticulous and tireless in their dedication to ensuring that they find the best possible solution to their problems. We have to go on living with the results of our decisions; the rest of the world does not. It was a facile solution to think that, because the British had been deceitful in their dealings with us, if we subsequently broke that agreement it would be a shot in the eye for the British. Nothing could be further from the truth: they would be 6,000 miles away, living their own lives and worrying about their own problems, completely unconcerned about the chaos with which we were landed.
The meeting was not prolonged, and was amicable by comparison with some of the others, ending with Wilson saying that he was prepared to give further consideration to the idea of a treaty. I came to the conclusion that he was not serious, for he showed little interest. No doubt he would turn it to his advantage by demonstrating his willingness to continue trying. If he failed to follow it up, as we believed he would, then at least it would demonstrate to the Conservatives the intractability of the Labour Party.
We departed on 12 October and Wilson immediately appeared on television. Having denied me the opportunity to put over my side of the case, he now had a clear field, and he used it to advantage. His speech was well prepared, and he used dramatic language to tell the British public that we were trying to do something which was out of step with the world around us, and of the catastrophic consequences which would result. No doubt it sounded impressive to people ignorant of the facts, and who only heard one side of the case. Realising that there was considerable sympathy for Rhodesia and their record in the Commonwealth, he was careful to avoid criticising me personally, and, in fact, recognised my sincerity, and appealed to me to continue trying for a settlement. Very adroitly, he changed
course from the irreconcilability expressed in the communiqué of last Friday. He ended with the words: ‘I know I speak for everyone in these islands, all parties, all people, when I say to Mr Smith: Prime Minister, think again.’
But how long could we go on in this twilight zone of indecision and expectation, trying to deal with people whom we could not trust? They gave us one story last week in London, and then a few days later turned it around in a manner calculated to bring us into disrepute. Moreover, why was there no mention of the positive and sincere recommendation sponsored by the Conservative leaders, of an international treaty to guarantee our agreement, and which he promised would receive his serious consideration? The whole scene reeked of hypocrisy and cynicism and understandably it was difficult for us to believe that they were thinking of the best interests of Rhodesia.
I had noticed, though, that Wilson was manoeuvring for tactical advantage, and trying to ensure that he did not place himself in a position where he appeared to be responsible for any breakdown of negotiations. It was with this in mind that he sent me a message on 12 October, the very day I had left London, suggesting that a mission of Commonwealth prime ministers should visit Rhodesia and recommend a solution to the problem. As with any constructive suggestion, we gave it serious thought, and the following points emerged. In view of the fact that we held a meeting with Wilson on the very day, his message was dispatched, why, we asked, did he not discuss the idea with us? Second, both parties, British and Rhodesian, had consistently stated that the matter was one between our two countries alone. It was clear that outside interference would complicate the issue and could ultimately get completely out of hand. Third, our problem had been discussed on more than one occasion at Commonwealth prime ministers’ conferences, unfairly behind our backs, and provocative and one-sided resolutions had been passed against us. Obviously these people had prejudged the issue, and were not prepared to be influenced by facts or truth.
