Bitter Harvest

by Ian Smith

  I liked the idea, but it would not be practicable without South African agreement and participation. Vorster listened attentively, and then said that the idea was new to him. He was not interested in anything north of the Zambezi, but obviously the country to the south had close connections, and he would like to give the idea consideration and would communicate with me. I was encouraged by his positive attitude, but, as time was of the essence, I was concerned that no message was forthcoming. When we next met, some months later, and I enquired about it, he replied that they had given the idea close examination and much thought, and had come to the conclusion that there would be unfavourable reaction from the rest of the world, and that therefore they could not support it. I reiterated that the initiative would be taken by the Mozambicans and that once they had succeeded, and they were certain of success, they would look to us to maintain normal relations, as opposed to turning against them. Obviously, this would assist in defeating terrorism. I was sad to see that he had made up his mind, and was not interested. Clearly it would have been in conflict with the new détente policy.

  John Vorster’s détente policy was coming more and more into the open, and on 23 October 1974, he spoke in their Parliament giving his vision of the future. Shortly after that it was arranged through the South African Embassy in Salisbury that the South African Foreign Minister, Dr Hilgard Muller, should pay me a visit. He flew in early in the morning and was in my office by nine o’clock. The secretary to the cabinet, Jack Gaylard, had received a communication the day before from the South African Ambassador to say that he would not be accompanying the minister to the meeting, which was the normal procedure, because the subject of his communication with me was highly confidential and sensitive, and he hoped we could talk tête à tête. This obviously added to the anticipation and drama.

  I was sitting at my desk, with Muller in the chair opposite. He leant forward slowly, his elbows on his knees, looking down at the floor for quite a long time, before speaking hesitantly and sotto voce. By nature, he was a quiet man, but this was something out of the ordinary. His Prime Minister had impressed on him that this was the most important message he had ever asked him to transmit. It was difficult for him, he said, adequately to convey the gravity of the situation facing the white man in southern Africa, but there was now a new hope emerging because of the wonderful breakthrough which his Prime Minister had achieved through his détente policy with the black countries to our north. The major European powers were very supportive of this initiative on the part of South Africa, and there was a general feeling that this was going to bring peace to southern Africa and a new era where all countries would work together in order to create a better life for all the people in the area. They had already achieved great success and Vorster and he had visited a number of the black leaders to our north, where they had been welcomed with open arms, and received unequivocal support for their new policy of détente.

  Muller spoke with great seriousness and much feeling, and took time to go into detail, explaining all the intricacies of this wonderful new brainchild they had produced. It was the result of exhaustive exercises carried out by their best people, involving meticulous investigation, research, planning and anticipation of future world trends. Now he came to the most important part of his present mission. In keeping with the spirit of co-operation and trust which we had developed between our two countries, his Prime Minister was dedicated to ensuring that a Rhodesian settlement was part of the overall plan. Kaunda had committed himself, and that meant the others would fall into line. Zambia needed a settlement of the Rhodesian problem, because it was aggravating their situation, which was deteriorating by the day. Kaunda could control Nkomo and Sithole — but in order to do so it was necessary for him to have them with him in Lusaka. The South Africans realised the gravity of what they were asking from me, the release of these people from detention. They had never questioned our action in detaining them, and were not doing so now — the principle was right, as the South Africans well knew, for they had to live with the problem of terrorism. But with the advent of détente, this completely new climate had opened the door to peace and a settlement of our problems. South Africa believed we should not miss this opportunity for this great prize which was now in the offing, and he hoped Rhodesia would concur. He then added that his Prime Minister had stressed the importance of making it clear that South Africa was in no way attempting to indicate to us what kind of settlement we should seek; this was our problem and, as I knew, South Africa had never tried to interfere. They simply believed they could help, through Kaunda, in getting Nkomo and Sithole to the negotiating table, as opposed to resorting to terrorism.

  Hilgard Muller certainly put on a good performance, full of drama and emotion, the kind of thing these foreign-affairs types have got to perfect if they are going to do their job. He need not have bothered as far as I was concerned, for I am far too experienced and down to earth to be influenced by such tactics. I assured him of my approval of the détente philosophy, and reminded him that we had been practising it for the past decade and more, quoting chapter and verse of how we had made agreements, going back to the agreement at the 1961 constitutional conference which Duncan Sandys signed on behalf of Britain, Edgar Whitehead on behalf of Rhodesia, and Joshua Nkomo on behalf of the black opposition. There was a formidable list that I was able to present to him, ending with my recent agreement with Muzorewa and his ANC. Every time, these solemn agreements had been broken — by them, not by us. So we could talk from practical, personal experience. He looked a little subdued, being on the receiving end of such telling evidence, and while I did not relish placing it before him, it was important to ensure that the South Africans kept their feet on the ground. From our contacts with them we realised that the South African government were inclined to live in an ivory tower, and that this tended to make them feel they were immune to what was going on in the world around them.

  There was also a measure of arrogance in their attitude. One of the classic examples of this came when Vorster stepped in and told the visiting MCC cricket team that they could not include Basil d’Oliveira in their team to tour South Africa. d’Oliveira, a talented, non-white South African, had been forced by the apartheid policies to emigrate to Britain to be able to play cricket at county and international level. South Africans have never since been able to excuse themselves not only for the insult involved, but also for their blatant political interference in sport. I speak as one of those who has campaigned strongly in recent years against political pressure to ban sporting contacts with South Africa. We have always had the question thrown back at us: ‘Who started it?’

  I certainly did not need to be convinced by Muller of the desirability of settling our problem: we had tried to do so again and again. And what satisfaction it would give us if we could make a contribution to bringing peace to the whole of South Africa. That was my message to Muller. In fact I was able to assure him that it involved no change in our attitude and policy — it had been our constant stand, and those in detention well knew that, if they gave an undertaking to act within the law and the constitution, they would be released immediately. Some had done precisely that, and were now free men. There was a small hard core which remained, but I had no hesitation in saying: ‘Let’s try again.’ It was worth reiterating that, from our experience — and I had recently been through it again with Muzorewa and the ANC — those people used every possible trick to gain a bit more ground. However, I said, they were always found wanting when it came to fulfilling their side of agreements. So it was important to emphasise the need to be doubly on guard when dealing with such people. I was sure he was aware of that well-known saying: ‘Eternal vigilance is the price of Freedom’.

  He assured me that he would convey the ‘wisdom of my words’ to his Prime Minister, but he believed that there were two important new factors which would ensure the success of this initiative. First, the countries to our north, especially Zambia, were desperate for a settlement which wou
ld bring peace and thus an end to the fighting. Second, South Africa would now be participating as an honest broker and a witness to any agreement. It was difficult for me to believe that the black leaders to our north would accept the ‘honest’ context of the South African government’s intentions.

  I could not help thinking to myself about how many times I had listened to a similar theme from others, including the British. One could only hope that this time things would be different, for the obvious reason that we were both in the same boat. I had so often heard them say: ‘We will either sink or swim together.’ There was after all a compelling reason for us to work together. Unlike the British, we were both part of Africa, it was our continent, our home, and we had to go on living with the decisions we made.

  So Hilgard Muller’s mission was not nearly as difficult as he had contemplated, and ‘the most important message his Prime Minister had ever asked him to convey’, turned out to be a bit of an anti-climax. I was able to give him a quick, direct reply. The South Africans would provide the transport to Lusaka for the released detainees, and Muller departed immediately for the airport to convey my ‘most welcome message to his Prime Minister’.

  If only, I thought, they would face up to reality: South Africa’s greatest priority was to find a solution to its own internal problem, as opposed to believing that through diplomacy it could sell apartheid to the rest of the world. Sad to say, the South Africans still had a lot to learn about the game of diplomacy. But their biggest problem was that they were trying to sell an unsaleable product.

  If one analysed the South African predicament, it was clear that they were now in the middle of changing course, and were dithering as to which way to go. I recall John Vorster saying to me in one of our discussions at his official residence, ‘Libertas’, that they had been forced to the conclusion that their philosophy of apartheid was unworkable. Land was a very emotional issue. They had taken land from white areas for allocation to black areas, and there were many signals that this exercise was going to run into very rough weather. Equally important was the fact that it was imposing an unbearable burden on the economy, and this would not lessen. The government was therefore in the process of rethinking.

  The original concept of apartheid, as explained by the then Prime Minister, Dr Malan, when he first used this previously unheard-of word, was the division of the country into different areas in order to accommodate different peoples according to their history, culture and traditions. Whether one approved of this or not, it was possible to argue the pros and cons. The nearest English word portraying a similar meaning is ‘Balkanisation’, which derives from the division of parts of Europe into a number of states known as the Balkans. Even Britain has a well-trodden record in this area: it separated, with disastrous results, India and Pakistan, Palestine and Israel, and Ireland between the Protestants and Catholics. Coming closer to home, the metropolitan powers divided sub-Saharan Africa while sitting at their desks in London and the other capitals of Europe, drawing lines on a map, and certainly never taking the trouble to consult the local people on the ground. This was brought home to me most vividly on an occasion when I was visiting the border between the eastern districts of our country and Mozambique and was shown a part of the border where there was close settlement on both sides, and which was consequently easy crossing ground for the terrorists. We had recently built a security fence along the boundary and I was informed that the local Chief wished to discuss a new problem which had arisen. His people lived over a wide area of the surrounding country, and the dividing line, he pointed out, had bisected the area with some of his people on the wrong side. Of particular concern to him was that he had seven wives, three of whom now had their huts on the Mozambican side. I could not resist the thought that the old man should have been grateful for the fact that I had contributed towards reducing his workload! Regrettably, that would not have gone down very well in the face of their customs and traditions — so I kept my thought to myself.

  Vorster’s National Party, however, was now faced with no small problem: how to climb down from their philosophy, which was the foundation, the whole basis of their party’s existence. The effect on their electorate would certainly have been traumatic. The result was that they simply allowed things to drift as far as the reallocation of land was concerned, but preserved, even strengthened those aspects which perpetuated racial segregation. This created an entirely new situation. A division within a unitary country based purely on race, declaring that white people were first-class citizens and blacks were second-class citizens, was unprincipled and totally indefensible. Not only would it be impossible to gain support for such a philosophy anywhere else in the world, but most important of all, it would create bitterness and hatred among the great mass of the people — a blatant affront to them, based purely on race. I believed that there were answers to the problem without abandoning our Western civilisation, and lived in expectation as to how the South Africans were going to deal with it.

  There was another worrying development drawn to my attention by my caucus, of a change of attitude towards us by the Afrikaans press in South Africa, which in contrast to their English language press, had always been supportive of Rhodesia. They were now indicating in no uncertain manner, as part of what was clearly an orchestrated campaign, that Rhodesia was not doing enough to settle the constitutional problem. At the same time they started reminding us that we were leaning heavily on South Africa for support, and that this was beginning to become an embarrassment. Rhodesians on their customary holiday visits to South Africa were getting the same message, albeit with reservations and embarrassment, from their relations and friends. A few of my cabinet ministers with strong South African associations informed me in confidence that they had received the message from influential connections with the Afrikaans newspapers that the signal had come down from the highest authority, i.e. the leaders of the Nationalist Party. The prime minister was by convention the chairman of the company which controlled the Afrikaans Press. I was in regular contact with the South African Prime Minister, and he had never even hinted at such a thought, assuring me, on the contrary, that they were happy at the way we were conducting affairs. But there was a clear answer to that: the South African public were positively on our side, the South African police were standing shoulder to shoulder with our troops guarding the Zambezi; any sudden turn about by the South African government would be highly suspect. I was reminded of the recent big rugby match at Loftus Versveld in Pretoria where, much to my embarrassment, the welcome from the crowd on my arrival was greatly in excess of that accorded to Vorster. Clearly the South African government was embarking on a campaign to condition their electorate. By nature I am not an alarmist — quite the reverse — but this caused me great concern, because there had always been trust and understanding in my relations with the South Africans; this was the essential difference between them and the British government.

  I fully understood the concept of détente, and the need for tact and strategy, and we had always gone out of our way when the need arose. But our dealings were always honest and straightforward. I hoped that my suspicions were ill-founded.

  We released the leading detainees in early December and they were flown to Lusaka, where they were pressurised into accepting unity of their two factions under the ANC with Muzorewa as leader. Of interest was the fact that both Kaunda and Nyerere insisted on dealing with Sithole, as the leader of ZANU, and would not accept that he had been replaced by Robert Mugabe, his hitherto secretary-general, as was being insisted. It was clear, on the other hand, that Nkomo was the leader of ZAPU, the other faction. But my information was that any attempt to unite the two factions under Muzorewa and the ANC had no chance of succeeding and would be purely superficial.

  Of more immediate interest was the ceasefire of 11 December, which had been arranged between the South Africans and Kaunda. Once again my advisers were sceptical. Each gang of terrorists had its own leader, and was a law unto itself. Messages from
headquarters in Lusaka would have to be carried by foot hundreds of miles to countless destinations, many of which moved from day to day and were therefore unknown, and obviously had no means of recording receipt of messages.

  Tragically, it ended in disaster. A few impromptu meetings were arranged between Rhodesian security forces and terrorists — with our people suspicious and at the ready — and they went off peacefully. Then, on 23 December, on a bridge across the Mazoe River, a group of five South African policemen met up with and started talking to a band of terrorists. The South Africans were persuaded to lay down their arms and were immediately shot and murdered in cold blood. They had been warned of this possibility. Once again I was told by our security chiefs that this was another example — and there had been numerous others — of South Africans being killed because they had been put in to do a job for which they had not been trained. Our troops were young, fit and hardened for the task, with quick reflexes and specialist training. We had special police ‘sticks’ (units) trained for similar work. But the South Africans had been trained as policemen, not fighting men, and many of them were over age for the task. This was the result of a decision by their politicians, who were trying to bluff the world that their forces were not soldiers, but merely policemen guarding the borders against infiltrators. We had warned against this on a number of occasions, but to no effect, and sadly it led to unnecessary casualties.

  Vorster, however, was in no way deterred from his détente mission. He waxed eloquent at a meeting we had in ‘Libertas’ about the warm reception he was receiving from the black leaders to our north: ‘I’ve got them eating out of my hands,’ he said, holding his hands out cup-like in front of me. ‘They have promised that if I can help them solve the Rhodesian problem they will acknowledge South Africa as we are today.’ ‘With your apartheid intact?’ I asked. ‘Certainly,’ he replied. ‘But you don’t believe them?’ I queried. ‘My dear friend,’ he said, ‘You’ve been out of touch with the world around you for so long that you are unaware of the changes which have taken place.’