by Ian Smith
Shortly after this a message from Salisbury came through our diplomatic office in Cape Town with a request from Nkomo that I return immediately to sign the agreement, as he had made plans to fly next week to see Machel and the following week to see Nyerere. I understood the reason for this, as Nkomo had always been Kaunda’s man while Nyerere and Machel had supported Sithole and ZANU. Clearly this was Kaunda’s plan, in order to ensure that the other two were kept on side. I was not all that enamoured with the idea of cutting short our holiday, which was brief enough; moreover, Nkomo had had the past three weeks at his disposal in order to accommodate his friends. So I expressed these views to Harold Hawkins and asked him to convey them to Salisbury. Eventually a message came saying that Vorster would be happy to lay on a jet to fly me up to Salisbury at my convenience, and that he hoped this would enable me to meet the request from Nkomo. The subtle pressure was obviously being kept up. It had been our intention to depart from Knysna on the Monday, so we agreed to accept the offer of a direct flight and flew out on Sunday 30 November. It meant missing our return trip on the Blue Train, but there was the compensation of less travelling and getting back home sooner.
The ‘Declaration of Intention to Negotiate a Settlement’, paving the way for a constitutional conference, was duly signed on 1 December 1975. Nkomo and his friends were appreciative of my early return, and went on their way to brief Machel and Nyerere. At the last moment Kaunda had decided against attending the signing ceremony. Clearly, he had decided for tactical reasons that it would be safest not to commit himself publicly. History proved him right. In order to give Nkomo time to convince Nyerere and Machel of the desirability of supporting our agreement, we agreed to meet again after the New Year.
Over a long period I had been holding occasional meetings with Dr Elliot Gabellah of the ANC and his supporters based in Bulawayo, and recently we had a constructive meeting at Government House in Bulawayo. They believed that the war had got bogged down, and were in favour of open negotiation, which they claimed the majority of Matabeles supported. Gabellah was a sensible pragmatist, and I was impressed with the calibre of the people around him, including young, successful, professional and businessmen. He had recently returned from a trip outside the country, and came to see me on 12 January 1976 in his usual constructive way, trying to assist. He reported that he had a few meetings with Muzorewa while in Malawi, and found him on the horns of a dilemma. Muzorewa, intrinsically a peaceful man, was hoping for a peaceful settlement. However, under the influence of Sithole, he had become a supporter of terrorism. Thus he had acquired a dual personality, was disillusioned and unable to make up his mind. In Mozambique the terrorist movement was split into the Karangas and Manicas, between whom there was a deep and bitter schism, and this is where Gabellah thought Muzorewa could play a part through being the only one acceptable to both factions. Of Nkomo, Gabellah’s assessment was that he was the most balanced and experienced of my opponents. If I made an agreement with Nkomo, Gabellah promised that he, Gabellah, and his followers would support it, meaning the support of virtually 100 per cent of the people of Matabeleland. He believed Muzorewa would also back it. For that reason it would be desirable to encourage Muzorewa to return home. There was a battle for control of the terrorist forces in Mozambique between Sithole and Mugabe, and Gabellah believed Mugabe would come out on top because of his more extreme stance, which had a greater appeal to the young hot-heads.
Gabellah spoke with deep feeling about how fortunate Rhodesians were by comparison with those living in surrounding countries. Not only did they enjoy a better standard of living, but they certainly had more freedom. In most of the countries he had visited, the kind of criticism of government which was an everyday occurrence in Rhodesia would be dealt with quickly and formidably. With a gentle smile on his face he said: ‘Those who talk much about fighting and making blood flow are the non-participants, talking from the background of their comfortable positions, remote from the hot-spots.’ Moreover, he added, their sons were far away in America or Europe, where they would remain until the danger was over. His plans were to visit Botswana and Swaziland, and from there he would meet up with Muzorewa again, either in Maputo or Lusaka.
The constitutional negotiations with Nkomo were continuing. My diary records:
20.01.76 — Another meeting with Nkomo and party, and progress is slow. One pleasing feature is the congenial atmosphere, with both sides ready to crack a joke. At one stage Nkomo mentioned the time that was lost when he was in detention — I reminded him that the concept of restrictive legislation had been the brainchild of Garfield Todd, but because of his summary ejection from office, it was his successor Edgar Whitehead who had the privilege of implementing the legislation. In fact Nkomo was in detention before our Government came to power. Nkomo laughed and said that Todd had now seen the light and joined the right political party. When I asked which party, he replied: ZAPU of course. I was aware of that fact!
The South Africans were loath to leave us alone, as my diary again shows:
06.02.76 — A message from Harold Hawkins [the Rhodesian diplomat] to say that Vorster had called him in for a briefing on how the talks were going, and then thinking aloud wondered whether it might not be a good idea for South Africa to have an observer present. If we agreed he hoped an invitation would come from us, as they did not want to be seen to be pushing in! We discussed the idea and concluded that it would be preferable if they stayed at home.
That evening I broadcast to the nation, warning that a new terrorist offensive had begun and, to defeat it, Rhodesians would have to face heavier military commitments. All was not gloom, however; the next day:
07.02.76 — Spent a few hours this morning watching our Currie Cup cricket game against Western Province, and Rhodesia put up a very good performance. Eric Rowan, one of South Africa’s great batsmen, was there, and he came and had a good talk with me — cricket and politics! That evening a message came in reporting a successful encounter, where we had bagged 18 terrorists with no casualties on our side. An enjoyable and successful day.
Our negotiations with Nkomo resumed on 10 February with us working through memoranda from both sides on the whole range of constitutional issues: the franchise, the judiciary, distribution of land etc. South African (and through them, British) pressure continued and on 17 February 1976 Harold Hawkins came up on a visit to put us in the picture. He said the South Africans were still smarting and divided over the Angola incursion. The military operation was well planned and executed, with the result that their advance was easier and much more rapid than expected. In a matter of weeks they were within striking distance of Luanda but, when their politicians received this news, there was panic. After consultation with America, the South African troops were ordered to pull back, to the total amazement and disbelief of all those involved. Attempts to get together the relevant cabinet ministers to consider the countermand and clear up the resultant confusion were in vain — ministers were at their holiday resorts for the Christmas break. There was bitter division between the Ministry of Defence, which wanted to get on with the job, and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, which had opposed the idea from the beginning. Eventually, Hawkins said, after the New Year, a message from the Prime Minister’s office confirmed the withdrawal. It was a humiliating surrender, according to South African military intelligence.
This conflict within South African ranks had now spilled over on to the Rhodesian scene, Hawkins believed. All the Defence people were on our side, believing that we were winning and therefore supporting us. Foreign Affairs were obsessed with détente and the appeasement associated with it. Vorster was in the middle, vacillating between the two, but the weight of British and US opinion on the side of Foreign Affairs was influencing his judgement, much to the concern of Defence. Hawkins said that he had found Vorster despondent and uncertain as to which course to follow.
It is interesting to speculate on what would have happened if the South African forces had occupied Luanda. Sa
vimbi would have been the popular leader, with the support of the free world. The Russians and Cubans would never have appeared on the scene. This would have denied the communists their most important base in southern Africa, from whence they spread their tentacles into Zaïre, Zambia, Mozambique and South West Africa, giving them the saddle across Africa which had long been their objective. For the following twelve years this enabled them not only to spread their communist doctrine, but instigate the murder of many thousands of innocent people and promote the creation of chaos, starvation and misery which is the fertile ground in which communism thrives. And now it is left to the free world to try and gather up what is left, and restore order from the shambles.
I was pleased that we had the opportunity to put Hawkins fully in the picture to enable him to brief the South Africans. I gave him copies of our latest communications with the British to hand on to Vorster. He phoned, on his return, to say that Vorster was grateful for this action and was happy with the way things were going.
The recent happenings in Angola had brought home to us the urgency of trying to settle our Rhodesian problem. Clearly, we were the kingpin in the area. I felt strongly that we deserved to be given an opportunity to try our system, something between those to our north and to our south, with our black and our white people working together in the interest of all Rhodesians, with equal opportunity for everyone whatever his or her race, colour or creed. There was clear proof of the success of our policy: as so many visitors constantly remarked — ‘the happiest black faces we have ever seen’. Moreover, as I have said, our black people had the best facilities in the fields of education, health, housing and cultural facilities in Africa. They were anti-communist, and openly conceded the merit of an evolutionary programme of gradualism. Statistics going back over many years had also consistently shown that our crime rate per capita was one of the lowest in the world — one more convincing pointer to the success of our philosophy and the resultant contentment of our people. We wondered what more the free world expected us to do. It was clear what the communists were seeking: a revolutionary takeover by their minions. We kept on asking ourselves whether our friends of the free world were aiding and abetting this move.
We were not the only ones to express disapproval of Ted heath and his Conservative government. The British electorate felt likewise and had voted them out of office. The interest of the British Labour government in our affairs, and that of the Foreign and Commonwealth Secretary, James Callaghan, was suddenly more openly displayed:
26.02.76 — Met with Nkomo and his team this afternoon for a brief discussion to try and clear up a few points which were worrying them. This evening met Dennis Greenhill (British Cabinet Secretary) and his two aides McNally and Laver — he had been sent by Callaghan to make an assessment.
I was happy to talk to Dennis Greenhill, the former head of the Foreign and Commonwealth Office, because over the years we had always found him balanced and constructive. He came to see me the following morning by himself before they flew back to London, and assured me that Callaghan was prepared to face up to a decision, and was genuinely trying to help. I made the point that the correct decision for Rhodesia would be unpalatable to the OAU, and therefore I did not believe the British government would face up to it — I hoped I would be proved wrong. After a full discussion he assured me that I had convinced him on the soundness of our case; now it was his task to try and convince the British politicians. He and his party were going away with different ideas from those they had come with — he never ceased to be amazed at how much the distance of six thousand miles could distort the true picture. The general atmosphere of calm and contentment in Rhodesia was the complete opposite of what people overseas were led to expect.
By March 1976 we were having difficulties meeting the expectations of Nkomo. South Africa sought to supply more pressure:
11.03.76 — A visit from Connie Mulder [the Minister of Information] accompanied by Brand Fourie. Clearly a South African tactic to use Mulder, a well-known right-wing conservative in place of the soft liberal Hilgard Muller! Best wishes from his Prime Minister. The message was the same as we had previously been fed — a settlement was urgent and they hoped we could offer more concessions. Fourie said that Kaunda was becoming more demanding, and they felt he might turn against them. I pointed out that the answer was simple — go back to the Falls Bridge agreement to which Kaunda was a party. I was complying with that, wasn’t it time for Kaunda to knock some sense into Nkomo’s head. The discussion with Mulder was most friendly — I was sure the South African Government would not wish us to compromise on basic principles which were the foundation of our Western Christian Civilisation. He agreed with me completely, as I knew he would. He was satisfied with my assurance that we were making progress, and our distinct hope that if we were left alone we could reach agreement.
There was no doubt in my mind that by the time we parted company, Mulder was on our side. Regrettably, once back in Cape Town he would find himself out of step with their Foreign Ministry. This was just one more example of how the South African government ‘refrained’ from interfering in our affairs. I am reminded of a meeting I had with a well-known South African opposition politician when he visited this country the previous year. He had worked with all four National Party prime ministers — Malan, Strijdom, Verwoerd and Vorster since 1948. With the first three, when they gave an undertaking they kept it, he said, but Vorster would tell you one thing today, and do the opposite tomorrow. A slim kêrel — too cunning by half!
It was April, and reports from the war front continued to be positive, both in the area of eliminating terrorists, and in communication with some of their leaders who supported a negotiated settlement. I received a visit from young Winston Churchill, who had come to make his own personal assessment of the situation. He agreed with me that basically the Conservative Party were wishy-washy on their stand over Rhodesia, and were allowing Labour to make all the running. The pressure from the South Africans continued, including making difficulties over loans we needed to meet our defence obligations. On 21 April, Harold Hawkins flew up from Cape Town to brief us. He said that the South Africans never stopped talking about their hopes that a settlement of our problem was imminent. Vorster had told him the same story that he had given me at that meeting in ‘Libertas’ on his return from a visit to Europe, that he was taken aback at the hostility against South Africa from their traditional conservative friends, who had made clear to him the total unacceptability of apartheid, which was an even greater evil than communism. ‘We have got to make changes,’ he said. I asked Harold when he thought the changes would come. It was over a year since their representative at the UN had made an appeal to the rest of the world to give South Africa one year, and that then they would see sweeping progress in the removal of racial discrimination, but they had done nothing. Harold replied that the National Party were not yet ready for these changes. ‘Was there any lead from their leaders?’ I asked. He said: ‘No.’ It seemed to me, I said, that they were using the Rhodesian issue as a decoy to distract attention from their problem. ‘You’re right,’ he said, adding that they were still enmeshed in great controversy over the retreat from Angola. Kaunda and their other friends in Africa had expressed their disappointment at what happened, as those leaders who had opposed their participation in South Africa’s détente exercise were now cock-a-hoop, saying that their ignominious retreat had pricked the bubble of South Africa’s military might, and made the communist victory all the more glorious. This had increased the bitterness of the Ministry of Defence and the military chiefs, because as everyone was well aware, the truth was the opposite: had it not been for political intervention, there would have been a total South African victory in a matter of days. So we Rhodesians were not the only ones on the receiving end of South African political chicanery.
Although the negotiations with Nkomo had got nowhere, I turned to the question of bringing some of our black people into government, which had been under co
nsideration for some time, but I was reluctant to do this as part of any agreement with the British, believing that it was a matter for Rhodesians to decide among themselves. When we made the agreement with Alec Home in 1971, I believed this would present the opportunity to make a start. Unfortunately the Pearce Commission Report put an end to those ideas. I realised, however, that we could not go on waiting indefinitely, and we started firming up plans. In one of my meetings with Muzorewa when we began discussions after Pearce, I mentioned my plans for bringing blacks into government, and Muzorewa responded immediately by requesting me to hold my hand, as this would be valuable for him to use in any agreement we made. Clearly, this was logical, and was part of the talks we were holding. But once again the talks dragged on. Then there was the Falls Bridge conference. Then the talks with Nkomo. Finally, in my broadcast to the nation on 27 April 1976, I made the announcement that I was bringing into government a number of black ministers. This was not as easy as it sounds, though, and I was surprised at how much evidence I was given of the pressure and even intimidatory threats from the terrorist organisations against any blacks actually cooperating with the government.
