by Ian Smith
Complementary to the stepping up of exports was the need to reduce imports, and this stimulated a number of innovations and ‘make-do’ arrangements in the area of import substitution. We used a cartridge starting mechanism for our Hunter fighter aircraft. As these were now unobtainable from Britain, our air force technicians produced a substitute at a fraction of the original cost, so that even had it been available there would have been no need to return to the old system. The reconditioning (servicing) of our jet engines had been done in Britain, but we now turned to our local aeromechanical engineering firms, which had developed much expertise over the years, and the results of their work never let us down. In view of the fact that we have no winter rain of any consequence, our wheat production was less than 10 per cent of our requirements, and the remainder we imported from Australia. Farmers accepted the challenge and established irrigation schemes, and within two years we were not only producing enough for our own requirements, but a small surplus for export. An ethanol plant was constructed alongside our large sugar industry in the Lowveld, and soon we were gradually incorporating this into our petrol. It would be a boring exercise if I were to attempt recounting all the other operations which kept Rhodesians busy.
It came as no surprise to me when Finance Minister Wrathall introduced a favourable first UDI budget in July. There was no increase in income tax, and the overall picture was one of confidence and an expanding economy. Our information was that this had come as a bad shock to Wilson and his government.
11
First Moves to Settle in
1966: HMS Tiger
Wilson had already initiated contact with us at the level of ‘officials’ — this was to enable him gradually and tactically to break out from the corner in which he had placed himself by saying that he would not negotiate with ‘an illegal regime’. It was Selwyn Lloyd who had put the cat among the pigeons after his visit to Rhodesia in February, when he gave his opinion that the problem was capable of solution, and that it was time the British government started negotiations. Ever since, pressure had mounted from various quarters, and Wilson’s problem was that pressure from the OAU and black Commonwealth members was in the opposite direction. He would dearly have loved to remove the Rhodesian thorn from his side, but how to placate the howls from the left?
Once again we came face to face with our perennial problem: politicians who were looking for a solution to appease our external opponents, in preference to serving the best interests of Rhodesia. So we became involved in what were commonly referred to as ‘talks about talks’, while Wilson was preparing the ground to enable him to start talking himself. Civil servants from both countries held meetings in London and in Salisbury, but they found it was not easy to produce a peg on which Wilson could hang his climb-down. While I had made it clear from the outset that I was happy to join in talks to resolve our problem, there could be no pre-conditions about surrendering our independence, or a return to legality — as far as we were concerned, we were the legal government. So the British had the problem of facing up to the facts of life — simple for me, but apparently difficult for them.
Wilson had started to disentangle himself from situations which he had created, and which were now proving an embarrassment. A lesson which people usually learn early in life is that it is easier to create a problem than to solve it. Britain’s financial commitment to Zambia showed no sign of diminishing, and his boast that the problem would be solved in ‘weeks not months’ had now been extended to ‘a year or more’.
The announcement was made that the RAF squadron and British troops in Zambia were returning home at the end of August. They were given a grand farewell party by the Rhodesians at the Victoria Falls, and many messages of good wishes were conveyed to me, including one saying that if need be they would be prepared to come back and help us — no doubt given in the spirit of the occasion! And, as I was told, sent by one RAF pilot to another! They pulled out of other commitments, such as the airlift of fuel to Zambia, with less embarrassment, and after discouraging the use of Rhodesian Railways to transport their copper to the ports, they now advocated it as the most desirable method. To add another dose of dishonesty to the operation, they made the transport payments to us through a neutral international bank, in keeping with our stipulation — this latter action in violation of Britain’s recently imposed legislation.
Problem seemed to follow problem, and an especially embarrassing one began to appear on Wilson’s horizon: the Commonwealth prime ministers’ conference, which was scheduled for September. So for good tactical reasons the British decided to adjourn the ‘talks about talks’. My comment was that ‘Wilson had made so many impossible commitments and talked himself into so many incredibly difficult courses impossible of fulfilment, that he had to face up to the tremendous task of talking his way out of the predicament in which he now found himself.’
Kaunda was incensed at the cutting down of British financial aid and in typical manner resorted to hurling abuse and insult at Wilson, in which he was joined by a number of other black Commonwealth leaders in demanding a military solution in view of the fact that sanctions had proved to be a failure.
The prime ministers’ conference duly took place, and as usual was accompanied by much verbosity and many threats. The final communiqué of 14 September bore the taint of the new modern Commonwealth. In place of the traditional, reasoned, balanced and mature wisdom associated with such occasions in former days, it was now split into two clear-cut divisions. On one side, unfortunately consisting of the majority, were the failures, the have-nots, who resorted to the traditional tactic of blaming everyone else for their deficiencies. On the other side, unfortunately the minority, were the responsible representatives of those countries which had proved themselves to be truly independent and could stand on their own feet, the success stories. The first category were destructive, with their false accusations and threats; the other constructive with their efforts directed at co-operation and assisting one another to improve standards of life. The failures resorted to the parrot cry that they were in their current predicament because they were exploited by the colonial powers. But Canada, Australia, New Zealand and Rhodesia had gone through the same history, and as a matter of interest, so did USA and South Africa, and they are all glorious success stories. Those who have not made the grade must stop looking for a scapegoat, and look to themselves: their corruption, incompetence, nepotism, external bank accounts and high leisure preference. ‘The fault, dear Brutus, lies not in our stars, but in ourselves.’
It is sad to record that the Commonwealth, once highly respected and trusted, is today an absolute fraud, and utterly distrusted. Let me quote from the foreword, as printed in the Journal of the Parliaments of the Commonwealth, where it states that its members are ‘united by community of interest, respect for the rule of law and human rights and freedoms, and the pursuit of the positive ideals of parliamentary democracy’.
The majority of members, however, are either one-party dictatorships or military dictatorships; whether they are communist or fascist is immaterial, because there is no difference, they are equally evil. Surely the decent thing to do would be to ask members if they subscribe to the principles of the Commonwealth, and confirm parliamentary democracy, not only by word, but also by action? If not, they should do the honest thing and pull out. By accepting their presence the whole organisation is brought into disrepute, and no one can be released from responsibility for condoning such deceit. Because of the tolerance of these double standards, Wilson found himself forced back even further into a corner by the communiqué issued at the end of the prime ministers’ conference. This stated that most of the heads of government advocated force as the only means of bringing down the Rhodesian government and that Britain should refuse to resume discussions with the Rhodesians. Moreover, if these threats failed to force the Rhodesian government to step down, Britain should take the matter to the UN through a resolution requesting mandatory economic sanctions. Wilson opposed
these, and was supported by Australia, Canada and New Zealand. But the mob (all the failures) were in full cry, howling for blood at whatever cost.
The Conservative Party accused Wilson of deviating from undertakings given in the House of Commons and on 15 September demanded an immediate recall of Parliament. Wilson, as would be expected, denied the accusation. He would do this with conviction, because he had no intention of complying with the communiqué. In fact, Sir Morrice James, an Under Secretary at the Commonwealth Office, had already flown into Salisbury. His first call was at Government House, where he assured Gibbs of the British government’s intention to commence negotiations with the Rhodesian government. Both Gibbs and Beadle had warned Wilson of their disenchantment over the continuing vacillation, and Gibbs had gone so far as to indicate his intention of resigning if there was no positive action. James’s second objective was more complicated. He asked: would we accept a visit from Bowden, the new Commonwealth Secretary? There was no problem on my part — I had indicated that I was always ready to talk. The problem was with the British — we would not accept any back-door methods. The talks would be official, government to government, and clearly this would be flying in the face of the Commonwealth prime ministers’ communiqué, on which the ink had hardly had time to dry. But we could not be expected to help Wilson pull his chestnuts out of the fire.
Our conditions were accepted, which surprised some people, but my view was that the British would have been naïve not to have anticipated our stance, and to have embarked on a mission which was doomed to failure could only have embarrassed them. One of Wilson’s better qualities was that once he had made up his mind on a course of action, he wasted no time. Herbert Bowden, the new Commonwealth Secretary, accompanied by the Attorney General, Elwyn Jones, arrived in Salisbury on 19 September. So much for all the staged drama that they would never have contact with the illegal Rhodesian government, that we would have to renounce our UDI, and that all communication would have to be through the Governor.
The talks went better than expected, and I found Bowden reasonable and easy of communication. The problem was that he was unable to come to conclusions and make decisions, no doubt because he was new to the job and still finding his feet, and accordingly was in constant touch with Wilson in London. The differences between the two sides were not insurmountable. We were not unreasonable and were prepared to go out of our way to meet Britain’s requests for a wide extension of the black roll vote, a test of acceptability for the new constitution, and a final appeal to the Privy Council in London, among others. But the British would have to accept that the plan would necessitate a transfer of power from the existing constitution to the new one — there could be no abandonment of our independence. With a bit of give and take and reason on both sides we could find a way out of the predicament, since it looked as if Wilson was seeking a way to extricate himself from the nightmare of another prime ministers’ conference. I had a final meeting with Bowden on the day of their return to London, 26 September, and his reasonable approach led me to believe that there was hope.
The British again wasted no time, and Morrice James returned to Salisbury on 14 October with the plan that they had drawn up. There were still certain points of difference, but these were negotiable, especially as Bowden had indicated his readiness to fly out for further discussions if need be. But the sting was in the tail — the British insisted that our Parliament would be dissolved, the Governor would assume control and he would appoint ministers to act until a new Parliament was elected under their new constitution. In addition the British government would have the right to bring in troops if they thought it necessary.
This was sheer dishonesty. There had never been any doubt in anybody’s mind that these things were totally unacceptable to us. The suggestion of British troops coming to assist was repugnant — Rhodesia was one of the most peaceful countries in the world, and our forces of law and order had proved their capacity to deal with any eventuality. To add fuel to the fire, their message ended with the threat that if we rejected their proposals ‘the consequences for Rhodesia and the whole of central and southern Africa would be incalculable’. I was surprised that Wilson had not learned by then that any attempt to blackmail us would be rebuffed.
We despatched our reply without resorting to abuse or provocation, putting forward our constructive suggestions as to how we could bridge our differences, stating that once this had been done and the new constitution determined, we would then be ready to discuss the procedure for implementing the change. As diplomatically as possible, we made it clear that their wishful thinking over the question of surrendering our independence was a non-starter. We were ready to accept a visit from Bowden to finalise matters.
The reality of the situation was that we were growing in strength with the passage of time. The morale of our people was high, and they seemed to thrive on the challenge of beating sanctions. Moreover, the facts proved that the economy was positively moving forward. And most important, South Africa continued to reiterate publicly their opposition to sanctions — and this message had been relayed to me personally. We made a point of using all channels — diplomatic, business, financial — to ensure that the British were made aware of these facts, and Gibbs and Beadle were kept in the picture too. Another victory for us, and a rebuff to the British, was a High Court decision on 9 September in our favour against two detainees appealing against their detention, where the verdict stated that while the Rhodesian government was not the de jure government, it was the de facto one, and in complete and effective control of the country.
Moreover, criticism in Britain was mounting, not only from the opposition Conservative Party, but from responsible opinion expressed in the media, which was drawing attention to the escalating costs to the British taxpayer of Wilson’s reckless excursion into the sanction operation, which was boomeranging on Britain. Another interesting facet of note is that not only had Wilson become anathema to white southern Africa, he had also provoked distrust among many black states to our north which resulted in them pouring scorn and insult on Britain, their erstwhile friend and ally. Kaunda was on record as saying that he ‘abhorred Wilson’s deceitful and dishonest ways’. We were forced to change our trading partners because of sanctions by Britain and the USA, and fortunately and unexpectedly this resulted in a number of benefits for us in products that often cost us less than previously. Some of the countries to our north also diverted trade away from Britain and the USA because of resentment over their duplicity.
Zambia suffered most, admittedly because it eagerly joined in with Britain’s machinations on sanctions, which Zambians were assured would last for only a few weeks, and for which they would be generously compensated. But when the whole thing went sour, it became a different story. Zambia was told to go back to the old ways of dealing with Rhodesia, and thus was forced to the humiliation of climbing down in front of its friends in the OAU. It was, after all, their only course to survival, because the only effective route to their ports of entry and exit was through Rhodesia, and the coal for the copper belt and coke for the lead mine at Broken Hill came from our big coal fields at Wankie, just south of the Zambezi River, our common border. It was fair comment to say that any reasonably intelligent person could have worked that out in advance, and therefore they had only themselves to blame, but in all fairness to the Zambians, they were led into the trap by the British. We had appreciated immediately the disaster that Zambia was heading for, and passed the message on to them time after time through the leaders of the big mining houses operating in South Africa, Rhodesia and Zambia. The same message was conveyed through the joint management of the railways and the electricity supply commission which operated in both our countries. Britain also had the knowledge and expertise to make the correct assessment. The only ones who did not were the poor Zambians, and for the sake of political expediency Wilson was happy to pull the wool over their eyes.
The methods used to circumvent Rhodesia, Britain’s brainchild, beca
me more and more ludicrous. The road route transporting the copper and lead to the coast was double the distance, and for the importation of coal and coke it was ten times as far. Moreover, once the tropical rains started, the roads became impassable. While Britain bore the cost of all of this, plus the transport by air of liquid fuel (by kind courtesy of the British taxpayer), the biggest loss was the dramatic fall in copper production, which constituted more than 90 per cent of Zambia’s export and revenue. Britain was unable adequately to compensate for this, and there were hidden losses such as the reduced throughput and thus sub-economic utilisation of the sophisticated and highly capitalised plant, which were never assessed.
