Bitter Harvest

by Ian Smith

  The atmosphere was noticeably tense as the delegates streamed into the conference hall. Fortunately, in Ralph Nilsen we had a very good party chairman, a man who had the courage of his convictions. In his introductory speech he reminded delegates of the heavy responsibility which lay on their shoulders and told them that the decision they made would have a marked effect not only on Rhodesia, but on the whole southern African subcontinent. In my contribution I reminded the congress of the principles we had always believed in, and the platform that had brought us into office. We believed that merit was the criterion for advancement, not race, and while there could be no appeasement of Wilson and his Labour Party government, we should not permit their despicable behaviour to prejudice our attitude towards our own black people. It was important to remind ourselves that we represented them in Parliament, that the vast majority respected and supported us and, unlike the British politicians, we and our children would have to go on living with the decisions which we made. Fortunately, I am not a great orator. In my view great orators are great actors, and while actors are fine in a theatre, they are highly dangerous on a political platform, where it is so easy to play on mob psychology and stir up emotion that can lead people to impetuous decisions that they subsequently regret, decisions coming from the heart rather than a cool, calculating mind.

  Unfortunately, many of the contributions were not only heated, but there was bitterness and even hatred, which we had never experienced before; but if you are actively going to participate in politics, you must learn to live with this kind of thing. Even if ninety-nine per cent of the people are moderate and reasonable, it is that other one per cent who will be in the front line of any political battle. When the question was finally put to the vote, however, we managed to carry the day, albeit with a slim majority. A few dozen of those who opposed us immediately walked out of the hall, but they were a small proportion of the more than 600 delegates present. There were others who subsequently resigned from the party, including one of my cabinet ministers, Angus Graham, but the majority who were on the losing side, in the true spirit of democracy accepted the decision and agreed to support it.

  The party’s congress decision was vindicated at a by-election which followed shortly in a constituency known to be right of centre. Our candidate’s opponent, the representative of the dissidents at our congress and other extreme right-wingers, was so thoroughly thrashed that he forfeited his election deposit.

  Speculation was growing over renewed talks, and there had been reports in the media about the visit of Max Aitken and Lord Goodman, followed by the Bottomley visit. As to how Wilson explained these visits away to his Governor, Gibbs, visits which had been kept secret, your guess is as good as mine! However, the next move came on 28 September through Gibbs: an invitation to talks, once again at Gibraltar. The most important thing about negotiations is to secure for yourself a situation where you talk from strength, as opposed to a defensive position where you may have to retreat to an inferior situation. Fortunately, our position was improving, the economy better than our expectations, and the morale of the people good — I sometimes thought too good. But we kept our feet firmly on the round, and had enough common sense to realise the futility of making unreasonable demands that would lose us the support of the responsible and moderate people in the world, and would also be out of step with our philosophy for our own people.

  We took off from Salisbury on 9 October and, in addition to Jack Howman, we had Des Lardner-Burke, our legal and constitutional minister. This time Gibbs was by himself, because Chief Justice Beadle was persona non grata in view of the Supreme Court decision confirming our de jure status. Almost two years had passed since the previous excursion to Gibraltar, and both the scene and the atmosphere had changed in the meantime. Instead of cruising up and down the Mediterranean on the Tiger, there were two warships, Fearless and Kent, moored alongside one another in the harbour, and the British occupied the former and the Rhodesians the latter. Wilson’s two cabinet colleagues were Elwyn Jones, the lawyer, and George Thomson, the quiet-spoken Scot.

  Wilson certainly went out of his way to show courtesy and consideration, as did the rest of the British, except Jones, who seemed to have a chip on his shoulder and believed that his mission in life was to be unfriendly to ‘colonialists’. There were many great Welshmen in Rhodesia, people in the mining and rugby worlds, who would have been happy to give him their answer. On one occasion, across the conference table he passed an offensive remark to Lardner-Burke, and I replied that I was sad to note his behaviour, which was counter-productive in view of what we were trying to achieve. Wilson immediately agreed with me, commenting that we should try to conduct ourselves with dignity. The talk among our party was that the British were leaning over backwards in an effort to counteract the criticism they had run into in Britain after the previous Tiger conference for treating us like second-class passengers. I had never found Wilson personally offensive, although he was maybe occasionally a trifle superior, but, as that kind of behaviour never affects me, it was of no consequence. Our problem lay in a deep-rooted distrust of him, of his constant vacillation. One minute he was agreeing with the Africans and their excessive demands; the next he was trying to come to an agreement with us in conflict with his concessions to the Africans. In mitigation it should be conceded that he always had the extreme left wing of his party on his back, which believed that he should not even talk to us. These people were worse than the African politicians who, no matter how misguided, were at least trying to gain for themselves benefits that they had failed to achieve through their own efforts. The starry-eyed liberals, by contrast, were trying to atone for the guilt complex associated with their country’s past history. Not only is this complex ill-founded, it is cowardly: they are trying to run away from their own history. They have allowed themselves to be brainwashed by communist propaganda, which besmirched colonialism as suppression and exploitation. The communists wanted the metropolitan powers out so that they could get in to spread their doctrine of Marxism-Leninism, their own brand of colonialism. And, of course, as the record shows, they were successful, not only in Africa, but in the Americas, the Middle East and the Far East.

  In reality, colonialism was the spread of Western Christian civilisation, with its commitment to education, health, justice and economic advancement, into areas which were truly ‘darkest Africa’. The people in these areas of sub-Saharan Africa had never seen a white man, had no written language, no medical facilities, and no currency, so barter was their only means of trade. For some unknown reason, they had never had contact with Western civilisation until, in some parts, as recently as 100 years ago. What makes this all the more surprising is that in northern Africa there had been some of the earliest civilisations, going back 4,000 years, pre-dating our modern Western civilisation. But if one studies history, what is demarcated on modern maps as north Africa is truly western Arabia, with the people occupying those countries being of Arabian stock — their culture, traditions, history, language, religion and race are Arab.

  The development and advancement of the people of sub-Saharan Africa has been remarkable, and today they enjoy a standard of living which is much higher than that of a number of other Third World countries; the credit for this is due to colonialism. But it is sad to record that they have been going downhill over the past few decades, since the ending of colonialism. Not only are their economies in tatters, but their people are denied their basic rights: freedom and justice.

  So I say to the people of Europe that if their countries were involved in the colonisation of sub-Saharan Africa, they should hold their heads high, be proud of their historical association with forces that brought light to the dark continent, helping its peoples to emerge into modern civilisation. I myself certainly prefer having dealings with some of these honest-to-goodness black people, than with the two-faced liberals of the Labour Party or the Fabian Society.

  Regrettably, Wilson had a number of the latter courting him, and without th
eir presence we might have made some headway. There were times when it looked as if reason was prevailing and we made progress, only to find at a subsequent meeting that we had returned to where we were before. Considering the time of year, the weather was very mild in Gibraltar, and we had tea on deck in the sun. As on the previous occasion, Marcia Williams was always present, with her efficient and considerate organisation.

  After four days of talks on the Fearless, we had still not overcome the main stumbling block of the return to legality, with the British insisting that we renounce our current constitution, abandon power and virtually drift in space until a test of acceptability had indicated an acceptance of the new constitution. There was no provision for what would happen were this new constitution to be rejected. I repeated that it would be criminal for us to agree on a new constitution and then let everything crash over the mechanics of implementation. It was obvious that there were, among the Labour Party, those who were determined that, above everything else, Rhodesia should be humiliated. We agreed only that the British should sum up the negotiations by laying out the proposals in the form of a paper.

  To me it was sad that the conference ended like that, especially as the atmosphere had been so friendly, and there had been genuine attempts to bridge the gap between the two parties. I even had a feeling that I would have liked it to succeed for Wilson’s sake, as he had taken the initiative in the face of powerful opposition from within his own party. He told me on one occasion that two of his ministers had threatened to resign if we made this agreement. Some of my people disagreed with me, believing that it could be part of a cunning scheme which would enable Wilson to present himself to the British public as the reasonable guy who was going out of his way to accommodate us, while Smith was intransigent, not prepared to move. In the end we produced a communiqué simply stating that there remained a gulf between the two parties, but that efforts to settle would continue and the Commonwealth Secretary would be available for further discussions if necessary.

  It was only when we received the paper on the British proposals for a settlement that we were confronted with a ‘second safeguard’ for entrenched clauses. We had not discussed this. We had conceded the need for a constitutional safeguard, and it had been agreed that this would be covered by a blocking quarter of black votes in Parliament. Now, however, the British were attempting to include another clause, which would mean that, even after legislation had passed through our Parliament with the majority necessary for an entrenched clause, any person would still have the right to refer it to the British Privy Council on the grounds that it was politically undesirable. Even if the legislation passed through our Parliament with 100 per cent support, this appeal could still be lodged. We had accepted an appeal concerning the law of the land, our constitution, but now we were being asked to accept that a British court could decide as to whether the Rhodesian Parliament was making the correct political decisions. We would be charging the courts to make a political assessment, as opposed to giving a judicial interpretation of the law. Not only did we object to the British Privy Council holding such powers, we would also have the same objection as far as our own Rhodesian Appellate Division was concerned. Never before had Britain attempted to include such a condition in any constitution. As I pointed out at the time, the British government were trying to assume additional powers that were a derogation from the sovereignty of our Rhodesian Parliament. Clearly, it was an attempt to accede to our independence with one hand, while taking it away with the other.

  Lord Dilhorne, a former Lord Chancellor, went on record saying that a blocking quarter was an adequate safeguard, and that it would be out of place to ask the Privy Council to give a political judgment. So Rhodesians were not the only ones to object to the Labour government’s attempt to include this condition, which was certainly without precedent, and which would have been tantamount to giving us second-class independence.

  We were disappointed at the British attempt to introduce more restrictive conditions, especially as this was out of keeping with what had transpired on the Fearless. It was not the first time that we had been confronted with such a change of course after Wilson and his team had returned to London, and we were trying to fathom who were the culprits.

  There were people, both in London and Salisbury, who pointed out that, once we were independent, any safeguard such as the one we were dealing with would be completely meaningless, and any British government attempting to use it would simply be ridiculed. Therefore, we were asked why we did not accept the British terms, knowing that they could be ignored. This came from well-meaning friends, incensed at the continuing British deviousness. While I sympathised with their frustration, and appreciated their good intentions, I had to make it clear that we could not be party to any plan based on taking unconstitutional action at any time in the future, since once you open that door, when and how do you close it? No matter how strongly one felt over British deceit and no matter how much pleasure one would derive from exacting retribution, it was important to realise that we were dealing with our Rhodesian constitution, and that our actions would be part of the legacy we would leave to our Rhodesian people. An honest, clean history, to which future generations could look with pride, was a sine qua non.

  We did not have to wait long for the next Wilsonian tactic. Thomson, in the new guise of minister without portfolio, flew into Salisbury on 2 November, accompanied by a new face, Maurice Foley, minister of a newly established hybrid, the Foreign and Commonwealth Office. They were accompanied by one of the top British civil servants, Sir Denis Greenhill, with whom we had previously worked and whom we found most agreeable. The talks were cordial and constructive — at least on the surface — but we wondered what was going on behind the scenes during the frequent adjournments. Our Independence Day, which coincides with Armistice Day on 11 November, was drawing uncomfortably close for British politicians, so they decided to make a strategic withdrawal at this time, departing two days before and returning two days after it, using this time to visit some of their ‘comrades’ in adjacent countries. Once again it was obvious that the British team had no power to make decisions. Their tactic was to try to push us in their effort to obtain more concessions. But I was at pains to reiterate what had previously been said on more than one occasion: while it was easy for the British, who were merely playing politics, we were dealing with our lives and could not give way on matters of principle.

  They returned to London on 16 November. The talks had gone on for longer than any of the previous negotiating sessions, but there was little of consequence to report. Perhaps two items I can mention: first, an agreed statement to the effect that: ‘the new Constitution makes the same provision as the 1961 Constitution for steady advance to majority rule’. This was a repetition of what had been enshrined in every Rhodesian constitution, and I mention it merely to debunk the claim by the terrorist movement, repeated ad nauseam by the present Zimbabwean government, that our UDI was motivated by a desire to perpetuate white minority rule. Second, there was a request by the British that the terrorist organisations, ZANU and ZAPU, which had received their training in Russia, China, Cuba and Libya, should be allowed to regroup and participate in the test of acceptability. This would enable them to employ their well-learned tactics of intimidation, arson and even murder to ensure that voters followed their instructions. We already had ample evidence of the barbaric measures they were ready to use as part of their process to blackmail the masses into giving them support. I replied, giving Thomson and Foley the facts in no uncertain way, and asking if they were suggesting that we connive with them in resurrecting the Nazi Party and their swastika? That was the last we heard of that monstrous idea.

  As part of my speech to the Rhodesian nation on 19 November 1968, I said:

  After listening to what I have told you I am sure you will accept the validity of my claim that this alternative proposal is infinitely worse than the original one. I find it difficult to believe that the offer was made seriously.
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  It was clear to us throughout the talks that the British were obsessed with the question of black majority rule and that this dominated all their thinking. They are prepared to accept that the white man in Rhodesia is expendable. We Rhodesians believe that there is a place and a future for all Rhodesians, black and white. Any other suggestion is unacceptable for us.

  I mentioned that it had been agreed that the doors of negotiation should be kept open, and added: ‘In case in the end we fail to agree, your government is continuing its preparation for a long haul, so that whatever happens we will sooner or later arrive at our destination.’

  In keeping with this intention, it is significant to record that on our Independence Day of 11 November 1968, the new Rhodesian green and white flag was raised for the first time, and the Union Jack lowered for the last time while the BSAP band played ‘Abide with Me’. It was a nostalgic moment, which those who witnessed it will never forget. It was the culmination of actions by past British governments, both Conservative and Labour, involving blatant dishonesty, reneging on agreements, and attempts to appease the Marxist-Leninists of the African bloc. If they had played their hand correctly we would still have had a country practising the ideals of the British democratic system, as opposed to a Marxist-Leninist one-party dictatorship, and we would still have had a flag flying in Africa proudly displaying a Union Jack in a prominent position — instead of a Zimbabwe bird superimposed on a Marxist red star.

  Fortunately, the indications at the end of the year were that things were continuing to improve, so there was no need to compromise and contemplate any short-term solution. There had been some strong criticism from a number of the financial and business kings, who were putting their profits before the national interest, but they were in a distinct minority. There were our ever-present political opponents, who had been against our UDI, and they were always ready at the drop of a hat to come forward and claim that they could do the job better. They were in an advantageous position in that the national press gave them complete support. In one of their attacks they accused me of being an arrogant dictator, and in the next breath complained of my indecisive leadership! Internally, these people were discredited and of little consequence, but to Harold Wilson and our other external enemies they gave hope that our government would be overturned, and this made them more intransigent in their attitude towards us.