by Ian Smith
In Geneva we found the British conference chairman, Ivor Richard, had not yet arrived — after exhorting us to hasten our arrival! Perhaps I should have expected this, and it was a pattern which was going to continue for the following two months — meetings were arranged and then cancelled, then rearranged, with half the people arriving while the other half did not turn up. When you are part of Africa, this is part of life, and the only way to survive is to acclimatise yourself.
As soon as Richard arrived, on Friday 22 October, we held a meeting to ascertain what was happening. I requested that the conference start the next day. This was impossible, he explained, because he would have to meet each delegation leader in order to confirm the agenda. I pointed out that this had been agreed at my meeting with Kissinger and, as he was well aware, Kaunda was advocating the British plan. Indeed, I recalled for Richard, in the midst of our meeting we had had a break to enable Kissinger to phone the British in order to clear a point which I had raised. It was absolutely certain, I insisted, that the proposals constituted a package of five points not open to negotiation — it was merely a question of acceptance or rejection. This had been repeated by me in my broadcast to the Rhodesian nation on 24 September, which had given our government’s acceptance of the package. As a result of this broadcast, I told Richard, I had received messages of approval and gratitude from both the British and US governments. I hoped there was no suggestion that Kissinger had misled me, or that the messages from their two governments were bogus?
Richard denied that there were any such thoughts in his mind. I expressed satisfaction at this, and hoped his words would be backed up by deeds. I was reminded of what Kissinger had said at the Pretoria meeting when he had stated that his information was that the British were already conniving behind his back with the chaps to the north to secure changes in the agreement. ‘What is the word they use to describe them,’ he said; ‘per …’ I supplied him with what he was looking for: ‘Even you Americans are familiar with “Perfidious Albion”.’ Kissinger had smiled and shaken his head appreciatively.
It did not take long for Richard to indicate that he had got my message. He promised to contact the black delegations promptly and try to have things organised by the next day. We met him again in the morning in a much more harmonious atmosphere. Instead of trying to give me advice, Richard sought advice from me on the best way to handle our blacks. He indicated that he agreed with me but believed that, for tactical reasons, it would be undesirable to disclose this in case it lead the black delegation to conclude that we were conniving behind their backs. Out of the blue he then started talking about the game of rugby, maybe feeling that this would humour me. Then he mentioned Harold Wilson’s latest book and added that he had seen him on his way through London, and Harold had asked him to pass on to me his kind regards. He spoke about his job at the United Nations, but confessed that his greatest wish was to be in the House of Commons. For that reason, no doubt, he would be aiming to make a success of this operation.
Next day was Sunday 24 October, and after an early breakfast we had a pleasant drive through beautiful country to Chaminix where we took the cable car to Aiquille du Midi, the highest cable car ride in the world (3,842m) — a magnificent view looking across at Mont Blanc and the massive glaciers in the valleys below. That evening we attended the service in the local Anglican church. It was a happy day, which kept our team close together. As a matter of interest we were informed through the security network — all delegations had security coverage — that we were the only ones to have attended a church service; this was to be the pattern for the duration of the conference.
By Wednesday 27 October, there was still no meeting of the conference and some of the British team had expressed their frustration to some of our chaps with whom they were in contact.
Then, that day, we were handed our cards of admittance to the conference, on the top of which were written the words: ‘The Smith Delegation’, followed by the name of our representative. That was more than I could stomach. It was obviously a deliberate attempt on Richard’s part to degrade our status and thus gain favour with the black delegations. I told our secretariat to arrange an urgent meeting with Richard, and it was laid on for after dinner that evening. I took along my four cabinet colleagues, and Jack Gaylard, the secretary to the cabinet. I immediately confronted Richard with the cards and informed him that we were not ‘The Smiths Delegation’, but the ‘Rhodesian Government Delegation’. He replied that this was not acceptable to him. I retorted that I was not asking him, I was telling him — it had already been done. I held before him my own card, where the change had been made in bold capital letters. (On the drive back to the hotel one of my team commented that when I delivered that blow, Richard reeled back as though he had been hit between the eyes with a hammer.) I accused him of indulging in puerile behaviour, and an obvious attempt to appease our opponents, and reminded him that in all our correspondence with the British government we were addressed as the Rhodesian government and I as Prime Minister. I warned him that, if he continued in this frame of mind, there would be no conference. Moreover, we had in our company senior civil servants, some with forty years’ service to a number of Rhodesian governments, not to any individual. I had to tell him that we found his behaviour unacceptable. This was pretty strong and exciting stuff for my chaps, who were having their first experience of this kind of game, and they joined in with gusto. Hilary Squires, my Minister of Justice, who had enjoyed a record of being a very able QC, had no difficulty in tying Richard up in an extremely tight knot, with Mark Partridge giving his tail the occasional twist. For good measure, P.K. van der Byl inserted his characteristic cutting thrust.
For a while, Richard sat back, obviously trying to assess what had struck him. It took some time for Richard to concede that he appeared to have misjudged the situation as far as we Rhodesians were concerned. I corrected him, pointing out that it was not a question of appearance, it was an obvious fact. He conceded our right to change the designation on our conference cards. Then, in mitigation, he pointed out that he had experienced a couple of awkward days dealing with the black leaders, who had resorted to abuse when all their demands were not met. He assured us, however, that he had stood up to them and put them in their place. Regrettably, this was not the message we had received through our grapevine, which told of him backing down and appeasing them. He assured us of his continuing wish to co-operate with us and offered us drinks before we departed, but I declined for the obvious reason that we were in no mood to prolong contact with him.
On the next day, Thursday 28 October, at long last, the conference was due to commence at 3 p.m. We arrived in good time and were immediately surrounded by the press — some 500 reporters had gathered for the occasion. As we were entering the conference room Jack Gaylard came up to me and said: ‘The British apologise, but the opening has been delayed two hours.’ We decided to return to the hotel, and as we left the UN building I felt for the media chaps standing out in the cold and rain, so I cracked a joke with them.
I asked for an adequate reason from Richard before returning and he came through on the telephone immediately, full of apologies. He said Nkomo and Mugabe were being difficult. They were even questioning his position as chairman. In the end they were convinced by his arguments, he said, but needed an extra two hours to report back to their supporters. I reminded Richard that the agreement had been signed and sealed months ago, and that we had all come to the conference on that agreement. Once again, I had to tell him that his tactics were wrong and that anyone who understood Africa would confirm this. Pandering to their arrogance and excesses, I explained, simply encouraged these people to indulge in more outrageous behaviour because it paid dividends. If he had stood his ground, which had been well prepared and accepted by everyone, the conference would have gone according to plan, and there would have been a little more humility and reasonableness from those concerned. He pleaded with me for understanding and I assured him that Rhodesians would
never be found wanting in that regard. As soon as we received the message that the others were at the conference centre, I assured him, we would depart from our hotel.
The conference room was ablaze with lights and the clatter of cameras when we arrived, and after about half an hour I was compelled to remind Richard that we had work to do. The opening address from Richard was reasonable, save for a message that he read from Callaghan which referred to our country as Zimbabwe, when, after all, according to British law the country was officially known as Rhodesia. However, on the credit side, the conference had started with the black delegations present in spite of the fact that they proclaimed volubly that they would never participate with Richard in the chair. To those who understand African politics that was par for the course.
Muzorewa took the honours, with vacant seats on either side of him, one with a placard bearing the name Comrade Enos Nkala, the other, Comrade Edson Sithole, both missing from the conference. His delegates were well presented, as were Sithole’s, but the others were a scruffy-looking assortment. Mugabe’s crowd looked like a bunch of gangsters, but one of my team commented that they looked exactly like what they were!
Next day the leaders of the delegations spoke. Nkomo and Mugabe told in mournful tone of the dreadful sacrifices which the white governments had exacted from the poor black people. I bit my tongue in order to resist reminding Mugabe of what the Matabeles had consistently exacted from the Shonas in the years before the white man brought both his Western civilisation, with its justice and law and order, and an end to the murder and carnage and plundering which had previously been the order of the day. The only point of interest in Muzorewa’s address was his glowing account of the contribution of great King Lobengula to building the Zimbabwe nation. A piece of comic opera was my comment! If Lobengula had been alive, there certainly would not have been room for any politicians in the country, and anyone promoting the name Zimbabwe would have had his head lopped off. Sithole seemed to be hanging back, so I spoke briefly, appealing for constructive contributions and expressing the hope that we would expedite matters so that we could return home and get on with the business of building our new nation. Sithole then came in with the only responsible and constructive contribution from the black leaders. He gave one hope that maybe we would succeed in forming an agreement.
The next step was for the constitutional lawyers to draw up a plan of action for our consideration. It was felt this would take a couple of days to work out, and I concurred. Boredom and frustration have a debilitating effect, so we laid on visits to some farms, always a refreshing experience, and one of the big watch-making factories.
By the middle of the following week, on Wednesday 3 November, I was looking for progress and asked for a meeting with Richard. He informed me that he was having difficulty in pinning our friends down — they were asking that a specific date for the final grant of independence be written into the agreement. I assured him that this was no problem, as the original agreement had laid down that this should be finalised within two years, allowing sufficient time for the drawing up of a new constitution and completion of all the other necessary requirements. All that was necessary was for us to sign the agreement — what was the problem? He said he would convey my message to the drafting committee. Once again I urged him to be firm, otherwise the black leaders would continue to attempt to include provisions which were not part of the agreement. As that was unacceptable to me, I warned, it would mean drifting on indefinitely. If he could not bring the matter to finality, I said, it was my intention to return home and wait for a conclusion. I reminded him that, unlike the others, I had a country to govern. He thanked me for my constructive approach, and assured me of his determination to pressurise the others to a conclusion. I departed with little hope that he would have the courage to follow up his words with deeds.
Over the weekend George Smith, our constitutional expert, informed me that there had been no progress, as the British were attempting to accommodate new demands from the black delegations. I arranged to meet Richard on Monday 8 November, and asked for the cause of the hold-up. He evaded the issue and talked about trying to secure the confidence of the blacks, which was necessary if we were to make progress. Appeasement? I asked. He was distressed that I should make such a suggestion. Why then, I asked, did he not arrange a meeting for us to endorse the five principles which had been laid down, as this would enable us to implement the plan. ‘Why not tomorrow?’ Surprisingly, he agreed.
We, the leaders plus three delegates, met the next afternoon and I took van der Byl, Squires and Gaylard. It was a chaotic meeting. Instead of dealing with the agenda, the blacks indulged in political diatribes, talking about anything and everything which came into their minds. Eventually, after showing commendable tolerance, I asked Richard when he was going to restore order and deal with the agenda. From a reclining position in his chair, he replied: ‘Don’t ask me, ask the other delegates here.’ I could hardly believe my ears. The other delegates sat quietly, waiting for the next move. They did not have to wait long. In a deliberate but unemotional manner, I upbraided him for his behaviour and reminded him of the duties of a chairman. On our side of the table we wanted a straight answer: was he going to continue to condone the irrelevant and chaotic conditions which we had just witnessed, or would he restore some semblance of order to the meeting? If not, I said, it would be necessary to find a new chairman. I hoped this might shake him to his senses, because earlier the black delegations were objecting to his chairmanship while I supported him — but alas, he had turned out to be anything but a success. He made some responses to my attack, but we made it clear that we were unimpressed and eventually he adjourned the meeting so that he could put more work into the preparation. Afterwards my team said they had found it a stimulating occasion. One does not enjoy resorting to that kind of tactic, but a stand had to be made. The black delegates refrained from participating. They simply sat back and enjoyed the spectacle.
Before dinner that evening we went to meet Richard and Antony Duff of the British Foreign Office in a constructive effort to see if we could get things back on to the rails. Richard expressed surprise at the vehemence of my attack on him that afternoon — my simple reply was that he had asked for it. He complained over the impossible behaviour of the black leaders, especially Mugabe, who constantly disagreed with his suggestions. What did I think would happen if Mugabe was excluded? Perfect, I replied, he had always been the ‘fly in the ointment’ as far as coming to an agreement was concerned. Even Kaunda had expressed such a feeling. Richard was absorbed with the idea and asked a few penetrating questions, obviously wondering how to solve his problem. He, too, believed that with Mugabe out of the way we could agree. I had to tell him, though, that I did not believe the British government would entertain the idea — they were too intent on their policy of appeasing everybody. Once again I impressed on Richard the need for firmness. Arrange a meeting, I told him, and proceed in keeping with the agreement of which everyone was aware. If there were delegates not prepared to attend, carry on without them — thus solving the problem in a peaceful, tactful manner, without deliberately excluding anybody. I was prepared to guarantee that there would be no absentees once they realised that he meant what he said. He quietly nodded his head in agreement, saying, ‘You have probably given me the answer.’
I then informed him that it was my intention to return home, to deal with pressing matters, but that I would leave part of my team in Geneva to carry on the work, and would return once I had received the message that they were ready to get on with the job. Richard expressed disappointment at my decision to depart, but I reminded him that originally I had agreed to come to Geneva for a couple of days, a week at the outside, to confirm an agreement which had already been made. A month had passed and there had been no progress, because of vacillation and indecision, and he well knew who was to blame for that, as I had reminded him on a number of occasions!
After dinner the American, William Schaufele, t
he American Assistant Secretary of State, came for a discussion. He repeated what he had previously said, that they were trying to assist, but that this was a delicate operation, and had to be done tactfully. He hoped that I would be prepared to adjust a little, if need be. I asked him to be more specific. I was waiting, I said, ready to implement the agreement which I had made with Henry Kissinger. This was clear and specific, as everybody knew. Did the Americans have a different view now? He was quick to reply in the negative, but told me they were worried over what appeared to be a looming Carter victory, which presented a distinctly bleak outlook. I told him there was an obvious answer: if Richard had got on with his task, it would have been completed three weeks ago, and we would all have been back in Rhodesia, implementing the agreement. I suggested that his effort should be directed towards Richard.
I departed for home the following day — what an exhilarating feeling! Back in Salisbury, I spent a few weeks briefing my people on the happenings in Geneva, and caught up on the local security position — our forces had just raided ZANLA camps in Mozambique with some success. There were some worrying reports that people were beginning to express concern about Rhodesia going the same way as the rest of Africa around us. I had a happy weekend at ‘Gwenoro’ and a final cabinet meeting before catching the plane on 7 December for my return with Jack Gaylard to Geneva. Harold Hawkins met us on our way through Jan Smuts Airport that night and said Vorster had asked him to convey his good wishes. The South Africans, Vorster had said, were happy with the developments to date, and hoped that we would keep the conference going right to the end. My comment was that it was easy offering advice while sitting in Pretoria, but a different matter sitting cheek by jowl with the communists in Geneva. We flew SAA and landed at Windhoek — I liked the look of the place, since it had the air of a frontier town, a bit like Rhodesia. Our contacts with South West Africa over the years indicated that there were many similarities between us, with philosophies which had much in common. I regretted that we did not share a common boundary, as it was my assessment that we would have worked well together.
