by Ian Smith
I could not help but have a feeling of some sympathy for the manner in which the Zambians had been cheated, and although there was little love lost between our two countries, when comparing them with the British Labour Party government I came to the conclusion that they were probably the lesser of the two evils. In my New Year’s message to the Rhodesian nation on 1 January 1967 were included the words: ‘I believe that the present British government will forever stand condemned because of its policy of fighting the war of sanctions to the last Zambian — this they continue to do with smug satisfaction, without even turning a hair.’
The southern African scene at this time was facing a new threat: the march down the African continent of Communist imperialism. We were already facing the problem of unbridled black nationalism, and this required great wisdom and experience if it was to be guided correctly in order to avoid the pitfalls of corruption, nepotism and incompetence which inevitably end up in a one-party dictatorship. I had listened to a very interesting briefing given by our Security Council (comprising myself in the chair, the Ministers of Defence and of Law and Order and the National Joint Operational Command — Nat JOC)* on thecommunist plan for Africa, as part of their overall scheme for world domination. The map showed clearly how they had firmly established themselves in a number of countries in north Africa, methodically moving on to new ground once a base had been secured. The ultimate target was South Africa, which was not only the industrial giant of Africa, but was one of the most richly mineralised parts of our world.
It was a few years later that I was pleased to receive a report that the United States had been alerted to this development and, as a result, their Congress Committee on Strategic Minerals and Mining had sent a mission to investigate. After visiting Zaire, Zambia, Rhodesia and South Africa they produced a commendable report and in most expressive language termed the area ‘the Persian Gulf of strategic minerals of our earth’. Apart from the greatest world deposits of gold, diamonds, platinum and chrome they itemised a list of other strategic minerals in which many countries, including the USA and Canada, are deficient. The only other country where one could find a similar conglomeration of these minerals was the USSR; if the Soviets could have gained control of this area, therefore, they would have had a virtual world monopoly. The report warned the American Congress and the nation of this potential danger, and urged them to rouse themselves from their complacency.
The communists’ plan, as explained by our Security Council, was to establish a saddle across Africa to our north and use this as the launching pad for the final assault on South Africa. They were already established in Tanzania through the good offices of Nyerere, a well-known communist who had invited the Chinese in. From there they had obtained a foothold in northern Mozambique, where they were assisting the terrorists. The Soviets were moving south from their bases in Libya and Ethiopia and had established a footing in Zaire and Zambia, from where they were planning to make reconnaissance trips into Angola that would open the way into South West Africa. Mozambique on the east coast, and South West Africa on the west coast would give them the foundations for their pincer strategy against South Africa. Finally, Rhodesia was the king-pin in the centre — it controlled the main transport routes to the south, was the bread basket of central Africa and had a degree of industrialisation second only to South Africa in the region.
The whole picture was clear and logical, and subsequent history has proved our analysis to be absolutely correct. What is so totally inexplicable, though, is why our friends in the free world could not or would not see this, and went on supporting communism in its plan to eliminate the last vestiges of the Western democratic system from Africa.
It did not surprise me that the Afro-Asians were on the side of the communists, for two main reasons. First, they could be bought, and second they wanted the white man out of sub-Saharan Africa — in this they were total and unashamed racialists. As the whites were on the side of the free world, they were on the side of the communists. As for Harold Wilson, we thought he probably wanted to extricate himself from the predicament in which he found himself with these people, who now dominated the Commonwealth. There was also the theory that the USA were making it known that they were becoming disenchanted with the sanctions game, especially as it now looked as if it was going to drag on, contrary to assurances they had been given. So I was not surprised when it was mooted that Bowden should come for further talks, and he flew into Salisbury on 25 November.
Before continuing, however, let me record our anguish, indeed disgust, at being banned from participating at the Armistice Day Service at the Cenotaph in London. This was a despicable act on the part of the British government, prompted by blatant vindictiveness, against a country which had been one of the most loyal members of the British Empire and was proud of the long list of its countrymen who had paid the supreme sacrifice in the cause of defending freedom. There were a number of our loyal supporters in Britain who were ready to defy the ban and place a wreath on behalf of Rhodesia, even if it meant confrontation, but I advised against this because of our feeling that it would be wrong to debase such a solemn and dignified occasion. We would have gained nothing by trying to match the Labour government’s spiteful and absolutely disgraceful behaviour. Instead, we resorted to positive and constructive thinking in typical Rhodesian fashion. With the aid of our friends of the Anglo-Rhodesian Society we organised our own ceremony at the Cenotaph in the afternoon, engaged the Salvation Army band and one of their commissioners to offer prayers, observed the one-minute silence, and the buglers sounded the last post. Our High Commissioner in London, Mr Sydney Brice, led the wreath-laying ceremony with the inscription: ‘From the Prime Minister, Cabinet Ministers, Government and People of Rhodesia’. Those in attendance included Lord Salisbury, a number of Conservative Members of Parliament, many other dignitaries, and a supportive congregation which was estimated at being in excess of five thousand. It was described to us as a glorious and stirring occasion, and a great credit to those who participated. Wilson and his Labour Party comrades were angry and frustrated — strange people!
Coinciding with Bowden’s visit there were positive contributions from Portugal and South Africa. Portugal made it clear that it would not allow itself to be separated from South Africa if sanctions were applied, and Zambian copper relied almost exclusively on the Portuguese ports in Mozambique and Angola. Ben Schoeman, one of South Africa’s best known and most respected ministers, told Wilson in clear, unequivocal language that if there were a showdown between their two countries, Britain stood to lose more than South Africa did. It had been made very clear from the outset that South Africa would not abandon Rhodesia, not only for moral reasons and because of our strong mutual historical ties, but because there was much evidence to indicate that if sanctions succeeded against Rhodesia, South Africa would be next on the list. So it was important to prove the point that sanctions would not work, as history had demonstrated on a number of occasions in the past (over Italy and Abyssinia for instance).
The talks with Bowden showed that the differences between us on the constitutional issues did not involve matters of principle, and these we were capable of bridging. The problem lay with the method of bringing in the new constitution, or as the British liked to refer to it, the return to legality. In our view it was straightforward and uncomplicated. Once we had finalised the new constitution, the British would carry out their exercise on the test of acceptability. We believed this was unnecessary, but even more important it was impossible of execution and would in fact be a meaningless exercise. Nevertheless, it was one of the conditions laid down by Wilson, so we would assist where we could. Once that had been successfully completed, our two Parliaments would pass legislation substituting the new for the old constitution.
The British, however, were insisting on an interim government during the test of acceptability. This was part of the pettiness that Wilson was obsessed with, trying to humiliate us, make us climb down. Clearly, this was not on,
but there was another real and practical reason why we could not contemplate the idea, as I explained to Bowden: assuming the test of acceptability failed, we would find ourselves in the position where we had abandoned our current constitution, only to find that the one we had agreed with the British to replace it had been rejected; we would then be left high and dry, a country without a constitution — an absolutely ridiculous suggestion, unless, of course, it was a deliberate tactic to bring about our defeat and destruction. In this case, it was a brilliant piece of Machiavellian or Wilsonian scheming. Bowden returned to London on 27 November with a clear message from me: it was obvious that we were within reach of settling our differences on the constitutional issues, and it was important that we should concentrate on these, as they were the core of the problem. I stressed the need to build trust between our two sides, and this necessitated honesty and frankness. The idea of getting us to abandon our present constitution as an ‘interim’ measure was a non-starter, and merely served to create suspicion in our minds. It would be preferable for us to remain as we were. For good measure, I gave him facts to substantiate our case that we were coping with sanctions, and were growing in strength with the passage of time. I believed that Bowden was amenable to our thoughts, but I wondered if he had the strength of character to convince Wilson.
Two days later Morrice James was on our doorstep; clearly Wilson was determined to get on with it. The message he conveyed was dramatic: an invitation from Wilson to join him for talks on board a warship off Gibraltar in the Mediterranean, Gibbs and Beadle to join us. This was indeed a climb down for Wilson, because he had stated on a number of occasions that he was not prepared to meet me until I had returned to legality! By contrast, I had always made it clear that I would meet him any place, any time.
I took Jack Howman, Minister of Information and Immigration (Lardner-Burke, who dealt with constitutional matters, was out of the country on leave), and we were joined by Gibbs and Beadle. We flew out of Salisbury on Thursday 1 December, landed on Ascension Island to refuel, and landed in Gibraltar early Friday morning. The air crew enjoyed talking to me, and on the first leg of the journey the captain asked if I would like to take a turn at the controls, and he moved out of his seat. I asked him to take George out (the automatic pilot) so that I could get a feel of the controls. It was a clear night and pleasant looking up at the stars and, as there was no turbulence, the ride was smooth. It was good to find that my instrument flying was reasonable, because this branch of flying needs the greatest amount of practice. And although I had been getting in a few hours over the past years with our air force chaps flying me around the country, this did not involve any night flying. We talked away with the number two pilot sitting in the right-hand seat with the captain moving in and out of the flight deck. At one stage someone came in and tapped the number two on his shoulder. He moved out of his seat, put his hand on my arm, said, ‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ and walked out. I was happy to have no talking for a while, as it gave me an opportunity to have a good examination of the instrument panel and all the dials before me. The thought passed through my mind: I wonder what old Harold Wilson would say if he knew that Captain Ian Smith (the traitor from Rhodesia) was at the controls of his RAF Britannia single-handed with no one else in sight and all his ‘loyal’ subjects including Governor Gibbs and Chief Justice Beadle, sitting behind. Suddenly the number two pilot rushed in and, looking at me anxiously, said: ‘I didn’t realise I’d been away for a quarter of an hour, are you all right?’ I nodded my head and said: ‘Sure — go on and finish what you were doing.’ He paused for a few moments, looked around and, apparently satisfied with everything, went off again. After about five minutes they both came back, said they had all been discussing their problems back in Britain, and had a number of questions to ask me. Put briefly, my views were that Britain’s problems flowed from the bankrupt philosophy of socialism which transferred efficient free enterprise into incentive-destroying state enterprise, with its more money for less efficiency. And second, Britishers and other members of the free world should reject communist propaganda about the evils of colonialism, and tell the truth about how they had spread the light of Western civilisation to those parts of the world which had not yet emerged. One of them commented that their problem was lack of effective leadership. I had been with them for two hours, so I went on my way after wishing them a safe landing, because landing on Gibraltar is like landing on an aircraft carrier. As I found my way back to my place everyone else seemed to be asleep, so I settled down under a blanket — fortunately, the seats had been extended, so there was room to stretch one’s legs.
I went up on to the flight deck for the landing and enjoyed it, for the simple reason that it obviously was not easy and therefore was a challenge. It was a dull, grey morning, just beginning to get light, typical of Europe at that time of year. A visit to such a world-famous landmark could only be a stimulating experience — I had seen it in the distance as we passed through the Straits on the journey from Naples to Britain at the end of 1944. As we came in to land it was easy to get a bird’s eye view of the whole area, and as we drove down to the harbour one could appreciate the layout, and our driver was able to give explanations to all our questions.
The cruiser Tiger was a few miles off shore, and we were ferried out in a compact small craft, and piped aboard as we climbed up the ladder that had been lowered for us. Wilson and his team were there to meet us, and he asked if Howman and I would come along to his room for a few words while the baggage was being unloaded. He wanted to take the opportunity of having a few confidential words with me, before going to the conference table, to stress the importance of the occasion. He spoke of the difficulty of his position within his own party and with the Commonwealth prime ministers, and of how important it was for us to show great responsibility in the discussions we were about to start. I thought it was arrogant of him to try to lecture me on the gravity of the occasion, and so I intervened to remind him, quietly but firmly, that if the wrong decision were to be made this would have no adverse repercussions on Britain. They would go on in their own sweet way, but Rhodesia would suffer, maybe disastrously, so it should be obvious that we were more anxious over the need to arrive at correct decisions than were the British. Second, if he found himself in an awkward situation with his Afro-Asian friends of the Commonwealth, this was a problem entirely of his own creation, and I thought it wrong that he should try to implicate me in it. In fact, if he examined some of my comments, I said, he would find that I had predicted that he was heading for a dilemma of his own making. So we broke it up, and as we walked away Jack Howman commented: ‘You certainly cut him down to size!’
The ship was moving out to sea as we went up to our quarters, and it was a pleasant feeling — in fact, the whole set-up of efficiency, expertise and power had an appeal for me. We had wondered why Wilson had chosen a warship off Gibraltar as the venue for the talks. It was clear that he was not going to let me loose in London, because according to our reports there was a sizeable wave of sympathy and support in our favour, and our friends there believed that if they could gain me access to British TV and the rest of the media this could be beneficial. So Wilson clearly felt this had to be prevented.
After the conference had ended there was speculation that Wilson believed that on a British warship I would be at a psychological disadvantage. If so, it misfired. First, my disposition is not amenable to that kind of pressure, and second everyone on board, from the captain down, was most courteous and kind and we were shown around everything we wished to see, including the new gun turrets, which were computerised to home in on approaching targets. Our second evening on board, my secretary brought a message from the petty officers’ mess inviting us to a drink before dinner. I appreciated their kind hospitality, and we went along. The place was packed with people, and when our glasses were charged the chief petty officer formally welcomed me, and raising his glass said: ‘To Rhodesia.’ We had a good swig, and I expressed not only
my thanks but also my surprise, to which he replied: ‘You don’t have to worry, the complement of this ship is 674; 672 are on your side, and the other two buggers went overboard long ago!’
Later that evening my secretary recounted that some of the chaps he was talking to had made the point that, if Harold Wilson entered their mess, he would certainly get a frosty reception. So any idea that I might have found myself at a psychological disadvantage was wishful thinking on Wilson’s part.
Wilson was subsequently criticised for allocating our delegation inferior accommodation while he and his cronies took the best quarters. But we were not concerned with such trivialities: my cabin was adequate, with a comfortable bed. Next morning I went along to the toilet — there were six of them in a row — which was open at the top, with a gap of about eight inches at the bottom. I had just settled down on my seat when someone moved in next door and took out a pipe and started smoking — there could be only one person with that kind of sweet smelling tobacco, so I said: ‘Hello Jack [Howman], how did you sleep last night?’ He had no complaints about his accommodation either.
The conference room was adequate, furnished with everything we required. At one stage the ship started rolling a bit, so sea-sickness tablets were made available. I noticed that Wilson and some of the others opposite accepted, but I was enjoying it and feeling for the first time that I really was at sea. There was a competent member of the British team, Marcia Williams, who was always available and able to deal with any of our problems. We started talking mid-morning on Friday, continuing for long hours on Saturday and Sunday, after dinner at night and even into the early hours of the morning. It would be tedious to go into the details, which are in any case included in the official documents of both governments. It was a pleasant surprise, though, to see how much progress we made in reconciling our differences on the constitution, issues such as the number of Chiefs in the senate, and the composition and number of ‘B’ roll seats. In the end both sides conceded that a successful conclusion had been achieved.
