by Ian Smith
An additional worrying aspect was that the communist propaganda machine was using the breakdown of the Geneva conference as another opportunity to attack white Rhodesians for their intransigence, accusing me personally of not being prepared to accept majority rule. This was a blatant misrepresentation of the truth, for every Rhodesian constitution had enshrined the principle of majority rule and all the constitutional changes which had been made over the years did only one thing: hasten the process. And this was particularly so over the last few years. To make things worse, the British Socialist government was joining the communists in accusing us of attempting to frustrate the principle of majority rule. This was monstrous deception, because they knew the truth. But they were a major world power, wielding considerable influence with the communications media, and dedicated to appeasing the OAU. Knowing the kind of people we were dealing with, this was not all that unexpected.
But what we found completely incomprehensible were stories that had been coming through for some time indicating that our South African friends were indulging in some negative thinking aloud, indicating that they were finding some of our actions inconsistent. This, of course, played into the hands of the communists, who claimed that it supported their accusations. We asked Hawkins to check at his level as to whether he could get any facts to support what we had heard, and Flower to enquire through his CIO network. Hawkins replied: Brand Fourie told him that neither he nor Pik Botha had ever made such a claim, but that Vorster had. They had not been able to obtain any substantiation. Flower told us that van den Berg, the head of intelligence, confirmed that Vorster had mentioned this to him, but he had been unable to pinpoint any case in support. Going back a few years, I recalled mentioning a comparatively small point to Vorster over a rumour I had heard concerning him and his government. He abruptly informed me that he hoped I was not the kind of person who took rumours seriously. Fortunately I was able to refer to a similar case he had mentioned concerning my government, adding that I always thought it better to clear the air if anything like this cropped up. But I was not sure he agreed with me.
Poor Rhodesia. We had enough problems with our enemies, without this kind of treatment from our few friends. That day’s meeting was a classic example of an attempt to pressurise us, intimidate us. And it was absolutely unnecessary. We had known for a number of years that we had no options, going back to the beginning of Vorster’s détente. The final coup de grâce came at that Pretoria meeting in September 1976. We knew that was the end, the final betrayal, and all we were trying to do was make the best of the disaster gradually enfolding us. At least we hoped for some assistance from South Africa, as Vorster had promised. But instead, at this last meeting, we were confronted with the sickening spectacle of South Africa conniving with the British and the Americans — and the communists — in order to pressurise us to give more ground. And doing it in an underhand way.
I was incensed at the humiliating situation in which I found myself. I had a compelling urge to say publicly that it was unacceptable, and together with those Rhodesians who felt the same — and there were many, black as well as white — make a stand. Better to go down standing and fighting, than crawling on our knees. But I was not an ordinary individual, free to act according to my heart. I had to think of our wonderful country, and its people, especially the young people; of what future generations would think and say about those who had gone before. That was my life.
When I reported the day’s happenings to my cabinet on the next day they were greatly angered by the persistent sheer dishonesty and hypocrisy we were encountering. As one of them asked: did Vorster not assure us at the outset that he was not attempting to interfere in our internal affairs, and that decisions affecting the future of Rhodesia should be made by Rhodesians? Above all they wanted to know what he was prepared to do in order to fulfil his promise to stand by us in the event of the others reneging on the Pretoria agreement. The unpalatable truth was that he was once again sacrificing Rhodesia in order to gain some advantage for himself, albeit dubious and unspecified.
If it had been clear that South Africa was going to benefit, to win something in return, no matter how unpalatable, how unacceptable his behaviour, at least one could comprehend what was going on in South African minds. But if this was just one more attempt to appease the insatiable appetite of the communists and their fellow travellers, then it was clearly just one more step backwards down the slippery slope, and that seemed criminally stupid. Not one of my cabinet colleagues was able to comprehend what the South Africans believed they were going to achieve, not only for Rhodesia, but for themselves. To betray one’s friends, indeed resort to treachery, is something any normal person would try to avoid. If by so doing you are able to gain something for yourself and those whom you represent, there is at least an intelligible reason for your behaviour, no matter how dishonourable. Surely even Vorster had now come to accept how wrong he was when he attempted to convince me that Kaunda and Nyerere had indicated their acceptance of South Africa and its Apartheid philosophy in exchange for a Rhodesian settlement? It would be insane for anyone to go on giving credit to that kind of thinking — indeed I thought it insane at the time. We wondered if there was a completely new offer — this time from Jimmy Carter and James Callaghan, Harold Wilson’s successor. Otherwise, what would be the incentive?
We had even considered the possibility of going back to the position we were in at the previous year’s Pretoria agreement. The other parties were guilty of breaking the agreement, so both legally and morally we would have been within our rights to declare it null and void and return to the original status. Tragically, that was a non-starter. The hopes and morale of the Rhodesian people were shattered by what they considered the betrayal of that agreement, and consequently the exodus of white Rhodesians was gaining momentum. People were making alternative plans, and any suggestion of an about-turn by our government would not carry conviction. And rightly so, because obviously we would be able to hold such a position only until the next time Vorster decided to twist our arms — as he was clearly doing at the previous day’s meeting.
Rhodesia had been trapped. As I indicated at that dreadful Pretoria meeting with Kissinger, there was a distinct possibility that we could be left in the lurch. But Vorster assured us that South Africa and our friends of the free world would stand by us because, after all, we would be in the right. Kissinger clearly was non-committal. He had warned of a probable Carter victory at the impending US presidential election, and of the disaster that would bring. Tragically his prediction proved correct. Kissinger no longer had the means to help. Vorster did.
We all came to the conclusion that our salvation lay in working together with our internal black leaders — in spite of their shortcomings they seemed more reliable than our so-called ‘friends’ of the free world.
Then a completely new and unforeseen development suddenly occurred, and helped to take my brooding mind away from the South African scene. A message came from the Lonrho mining company chief, Tiny Rowland — not exactly one of our friends — that he had an important and urgent message from Kenneth Kaunda that he would like to deliver personally. He was sure arrangements could be made for a confidential visit. I agreed, and the meeting was arranged promptly, with no fuss. Rowland flew in to New Sarum with his legal adviser Advocate de Villiers, and we met in the officers’ mess there on 24 September. Rowland related that Kaunda was convinced that the time was opportune for a Rhodesian settlement and a number of other black leaders concurred. They were fed up with the inability of Britain, the USA and South Africa to produce a solution. The answer lay in our own hands. He requested that I fly to Lusaka for a meeting, and return the same day. Lonrho’s jet would be laid on.
Rowland was at pains to reassure me about my personal safety, but I interrupted him to inform him there was no problem and that, as far as I was concerned, the sooner I met Kaunda the better. It was arranged for the following day, Sunday. Rowland was pleased, almost excited over the prospec
ts, although he is a cool, suave character. I had P.K. van der Byl with me and, as we drove back to town together, he strongly approved of the whole concept and agreed to accompany me. I expressed my doubts as to whether anything would come out of it but, especially in our current circumstances, every opportunity had to be used. My fear, as expressed at the time, was that there were so many conflicting interests, and at least four potential leaders jockeying for position, that it would take a firm hand to bring about any semblance of order.
We got away to an early start on Sunday 25 September, and flew off in the direction of Malawi, but then came in to Lusaka from the east, in order to avoid any suspicion which might be occasioned by an aircraft approaching from the direction of Rhodesia. We landed at the old Lusaka strip, where Kaunda was waiting. He accorded us a warm welcome and we boarded a waiting helicopter. Only the golf course separated us from State House, and we landed in the midst of guinea fowl and small buck. The place looked much the same as when I had last seen it in Federal days, and we went into the private office for a confidential talk with Kaunda. His welcome was most cordial and pleasant, and he thanked me for my effort in making the journey. He said he thought it was time we worked together to bring an end to the senseless war, and to the friction growing between ourselves and neighbouring countries. The whole thing, he felt, was getting out of hand and becoming an embarrassment to all the countries involved. I endorsed his sentiments and stressed the need for decision and action. In reply to a question, I gave him an assessment of the relative strengths of our black leaders: Muzorewa 60 per cent, Nkomo 15 per cent, Sithole and Chirau 12.5 per cent each. Kaunda was especially concerned about Nkomo — his protégé — who, I told him, was losing support because he was spending too much of his time away from his political grassroots. My chaps ascertained that Nkomo was actually in the building, hoping he might be called in to participate — but it was not to be.
Kaunda then asked if I would be prepared to have a discussion with some of his ministers and, while this was being arranged, we took a walk in the garden and golf course. Then we went into the conference room for a discussion on Africa in general, and Rhodesia in particular. We were given a break for lunch, followed by a half-hour rest (which was the custom) before returning to the conference table. We never really got to grips with anything, and when I attempted to pinpoint what they considered the requirements for our settlement, they tended to generalise, talking around the problem. The only time they got a bit warmed up was when P.K. spoke of the great asset of our super civil service, and our highly efficient army, the great majority of whom were black, and of their loyalty to the government they served. One of Kaunda’s chaps butted in and said that did not mean anything — look at Uganda, where the poor soldiers acting under orders had to kill innocent people, whether they liked it or not. This was completely irrelevant and, as I could see the possibility of it developing into a friction point, I immediately defused the situation by suggesting that we change the subject to something more constructive. Kaunda agreed.
The time passed quickly, and as there were no night-flying facilities where we landed, we had to plan our departure. At least we had broken the ice, and I came to the conclusion that Kaunda probably wanted a reaction from the remainder of his cabinet, who were unaware of my visit. Finally, he gave me the message I had been hoping for: we should use the previous year’s Anglo–American proposals, as presented by Kissinger, as a basis for negotiation. It was particularly pleasing to hear Kaunda criticise David Owen’s ‘Jack-in-the-box antics’. It was one of a number of points on which we agreed, and we parted on amicable terms, with both sides saying our deliberations had been constructive and worthwhile and that we were looking forward to the next meeting.
The flight back was indeed pleasant, the whole atmosphere happy, with everyone smiling, devoid of the bitter frustration, the claustrophobic feeling that had engulfed us on so many of our return trips from Pretoria in recent years. It was an unbelievable, absolutely ridiculous situation, a kind of tragi-comedy, that we felt more comfortable talking to our black enemies in the north than to our white friends in the south. Although we might disagree with the blacks, at least we knew where we stood with them. By contrast, the South Africans changed their stance every day.
At our normal Tuesday meeting on 27 September, I told my cabinet of the visit, and they were taken aback, especially over the security aspect, but that soon faded into the background because of the interesting story we recounted. My factual, and no doubt mundane recording of events was augmented by generous quantities of P.K.’s spicy insertions. The cabinet were positive in their views, expressing the hope that this might lead to something constructive. My comment was that if it was left to Kaunda I felt we could make a plan, but interference from outsiders, especially those who lived far from the scene and did not understand what was going on, could derail the affair. Someone interjected: ‘If Pik Botha hears about it, he will try to get a finger in the pie, and that can only be bad news!’
By 30 September the news that I had been to Lusaka broke in London and caused somewhat of an uproar, with the British and American governments doubting its veracity. They could not believe that I would set foot in Zambia. The report claimed that Kaunda had not believed that I was coming until I stepped out of the aircraft. It added that the Zambians had been impressed by my moderation and restraint. And the South African reaction, as expressed by Pik Botha to P.K. van der Byl on a trip, was also complimentary. President Bongo of Gabon, P.K. also revealed on his return on 7 October, approved of Kaunda’s initiative and promised to speak in support of it during his impending trip to the UN.
There was more news concerning Kaunda that day, 7 October. Derrick Robinson, Ken Flower’s number two at the CIO, returned from London via Lusaka and had a lengthy, three-hour discussion with Kaunda. He was still keen, but could not be more precise with details, Robinson reported. Kaunda was facing a difficult few weeks and was about to make a dramatic speech declaring a state of war, necessitated by Zambia’s desperate economic situation. Robinson added that Kaunda had warned: ‘We will, of course, come within his line of fire, but we must disregard this!’ In fact, to ease the pressures on his economy, and despite pressure from Nyerere and Machel, Kaunda opened his southern border with us.
The British and Americans were pressing their plan and intended to send out their Resident Commissioner-designate, Field Marshal Lord Carver, to assess the situation in Rhodesia as part of his functions would be to command all the forces. All we had heard of him — that he was a socialist, that he was the potential ‘General Spinola’ of Rhodesia — was confirmed on 10 October when I had an interesting discussion with Sir Walter Walker, a famous British general with strong Conservative leanings. General Walker had found himself in hot water recently because of his straight talking criticism of the British socialism and permissiveness of the day. He warned me that General Carver — who was about to visit Rhodesia — was a socialist.
The Kaunda initiative was sadly following its predictable course. We had a report on 22 October from two of our emissaries who had visited Kaunda at his safari lodge in Luangwa Valley. They could not meet at State House in Lusaka because Mugabe and some of his terrorist thugs were there. When Kaunda expressed his disenchantment over being landed with them at Nyerere’s request, one of our chaps reminded him that they would still have been in detention in Rhodesia had we not received a message from Vorster and Kaunda himself in 1974. He simply replied: ‘Perhaps we should think more deeply before rushing into these decisions.’
The message from Kaunda, however, was that, because of pressure from Nyerere, any arrangement we made should bring in Mugabe as Nkomo’s number two. The fear I expressed after my Lusaka visit seemed to be materialising: we would grind to a halt because of external interference. Our best bet was to leave things alone for a while, let the dust settle, and then see what their thinking was.
The South Africans were absorbed by their internal affairs and were resorting to stron
g-arm tactics in the run-up to their general election, banning certain newspapers and locking up editors. However, it had the desired effect, with the National Party increasing its majority in the December election. The rest of the world also helped — when outsiders attack a country and their government, there is a natural tendency for the people to unite. Into the bargain the opposition was divided, and many of their old adherents believed that they were no longer worth supporting. My diary comment was:
With this strong mandate maybe Vorster will have the courage to implement some of the changes he has been talking about over the last few years. Their Apartheid policy is disintegrating around them, because, in spite of their Homelands policy, they have no policy for the blacks in the white areas, no policy for the Coloured Community, no policy for the Asians. They concede privately that Apartheid is unworkable, but they are not coming clean with their electorate, for fear of losing votes.
With growing antagonism from the world around them, from Africa around them, including Kaunda and Nyerere, it should have been absolutely clear that South Africa’s priority was to provide internal peace. Surely that was the obvious way to confound their external enemies — it did not require a genius to work that out. And the longer they delay coming to grips with the problem, the more difficult it will be to solve.
