by Ian Smith
We also had a constructive meeting with Governor Ronald Reagan, who impressed us with his genuineness and intelligent understanding of our Rhodesian problem, concluding with a commitment to continue supporting our cause. There was growing talk of promoting him as Republican Party candidate for the presidency, and there was no doubt in our minds that in all respects he appeared to be head and shoulders above the current incumbent.
We had a tremendous dinner of 1,200 people hosted by the Los Angeles World Affairs Council, and there was no question as to whose side they were on. Senator Hayakawa, who had just flown in from Washington, came straight from the aircraft and gave us his strong support. After the dinner he joined in with a number of others at our hotel, and was still talking enthusiastically well after midnight.
I cannot believe that one could see more motor cars anywhere else on this earth than in Los Angeles — evidently because there is no public transport system. My hotel window looked over the main artery feeding the city, six lanes in and six lanes out, and I do not remember ever looking out and not seeing it packed to capacity, bumper to bumper.
On 17 October we had an early take-off by private jet for Palm Springs — a beautiful oasis of green in the middle of the desert, abounding with beautiful golf courses and magnificent residences, and home to more millionaires per square mile than anywhere else in the world! After a ten-minute drive, we were with Gerald Ford in his beautiful home, literally adjoining a golf course. As I said to him, this was exactly what I expected, knowing his love for golf! We talked for one and a half hours and his straightforward honesty was patently obvious. Like most of the others with whom we had talked, he was familiar with our problem and how we were trying to solve it. He added that, tragically, the Carter administration had not been willing to honour the agreement that Henry Kissinger had made with me. It was the irony of fate, he felt, that the destiny of Rhodesia lay in the hands of the American voters. He was repeating the theme which I had stressed so many times about British politicians using Rhodesia as a pawn in their game of international politics. Gerald Ford promised he would continue to do what he could to help, but was under obligation to bear in mind a convention that ex-presidents should avoid open confrontation with the president in office. However, shortly afterwards, while we were still in the States, from a public platform he did speak in favour of accepting the existing majority-rule government in Rhodesia.
Our next stop was Houston. That evening and the next morning we had a number of TV and press interviews, and then the main function was a lunch at the World Trade Center arranged by Governor Conolly. Our audience, highly influential we were told, were once again understanding and helpful, with one exception: an ultra-liberal, who attempted to ask a provocative question. He was concerned that the British government were not in favour of what we were doing in Rhodesia, and this indicated to him that we were in the wrong. Very briefly, I outlined the history of events which had taken place in Rhodesia, underlining the British government’s broken promises over our independence, which eventually had forced us to tell them, reluctantly, that the time had come for us to insist on the fulfilment of the agreement made between us — we were now going to run our own affairs. I ended by saying: ‘It comes to my mind that although it was something that happened a few hundred years ago, I don’t think the British have ever forgiven you for doing the same thing!’ That brought the house down and presented Governor Conolly with the appropriate moment to wrap up a successful occasion.
By nightfall we were back in our hotel in Washington. The following day, 19 October, after a few TV interviews, we were taken to a farewell press lunch sponsored by the American Security Council, and it turned into a real rousing affair with any amount of give and take. Sitting at the top table with us was that great fighter for human rights and freedom, Clare Luce Booth (in her eighties, we were told) still sharp as a pin.
Then on 20 October — our final day — we were up at 5 a.m. for one of those early-morning TV interviews, and then breakfast before going to our meeting at the State Department. It was the first time we had met Newson, who was substituting for Vance while the latter was overseas. Sadly, he was even more rusty on our affairs than Vance, and needed constant prompting from Moose and Lake.
After a tortuous couple of hours, literally educating them on the Rhodesian scene, we agreed on five straightforward points for an all-party conference. They were obviously trying to include pre-conditions, which was contrary to what had previously been accepted, and fortunately we had records to substantiate our case. The British representatives in particular were ridiculed, but they only had themselves to blame for not doing their homework and not having their facts. Their ambassador, Jay, was totally ineffectual, lacking not only in knowledge but maturity. On the one occasion when he ventured an opinion, obviously without premeditation, everyone, including the Americans, jumped on him. At my intervention, that we should cease dealing with trivialities and concentrate on material matters, Newson promptly and loudly agreed and passed on to the next item.
A particularly controversial point centred on their reluctance to join in an appeal for an end to terrorism, now that agreement had been reached on the holding of an all-party conference. The British in particular resisted this, obviously siding with the OAU and the terrorist movement, with the Americans passive and indecisive — by themselves, I think we could have convinced them. My three black colleagues came out strongly and were most telling in the case they advocated: ‘The whole cause of the fighting has now ended, and it is absolutely evil to continue killing our sons.’ I stressed the point that henceforth much of the blame for the dreadful terrorist killing, maiming, torture, rape and general banditry would fall on their shoulders if they obstructed our appeal for peace. What more did they expect us to do? But all our efforts fell on deaf ears. The dedication of politicians to resort to almost any means to retain their positions of authority, accompanied by the associated material benefits, is compelling. The crime is compounded when they prejudice the interests of outside innocent parties while pursuing their nefarious objective. To make matters worse, the Americans had allowed themselves to be dragged into a situation where they found themselves out of their depth, allowing the British to dictate to them.
In the end we made some progress, and succeeded in getting our hosts to agree to a formula for an all-party conference, albeit with the British representatives as reluctant participants, unwilling taggers-on. The contribution and demeanour of the three black leaders of our team was beyond reproach. We worked well together, and complemented one another in the various fields we were explaining and promoting. It was obvious to me that a number of those in our audiences were pleased to witness for themselves the travesty of the picture that our enemies were trying to propagate: that Smith was a dictatorial white racist attempting to suppress all opposition.
We could not adequately express our appreciation to Bob Nicholson and his security men who had been commissioned to ‘keep an eye on us’. They were tremendously efficient, and always helpful and pleasant, especially when under pressure. There was therefore a certain emotional feeling when we bade them farewell, and dear Bob Nicholson insisted on coming with us to New York and seeing us safely on to our SAA flight to Johannesburg. We were all excited to get our noses pointed to home, and were welcomed on board by the typically warm South African hospitality, for which they are justly renowned.
As usual after a protracted absence, there was a pile of work awaiting us, most important being the clear evidence that we would not be able to comply with the 31 December date for introducing the new constitution. This was nothing new, as we had been forewarned of it months ago, but the press had got wind of it and were blowing it up as some serious breach of the agreement. In reply to a question, I made it clear that this had always been a possibility, had actually been stated publicly, and had been mentioned on our recent visit to the USA. This should have had the effect of defusing the issue, if it had not been for the fact that some of our black m
embers, including Muzorewa, were adding fuel by expressing their alarm at the news. This was completely irresponsible action calculated at placating the hot-heads among their supporters.
I asked the secretariat to arrange a meeting of the executive council with the necessary information to put the record straight. The evidence was conclusive. At one of our meetings the previous month, prior to departing for the States, a report from the committee dealing with the issue recorded that the end of February was the earliest possible date. The reasons were obvious: there were still a few complicated issues, constitutional as well as others, requiring finalisation. And at that meeting Muzorewa had been in the chair. Moreover, at a meeting two months previously, the constitutional lawyers framing the new constitution informed us that their work would not be completed in time to comply with the agreement date. Into the bargain, I reminded council that when we signed the 3 March agreement we had been warned by the secretariat that it would be difficult to comply with the time scale.
Muzorewa did not have a leg to stand on, and simply asked for time to explain the position to his party’s executive committee. I suggested that he should have started that exercise at least three months before, but it would not have been helpful to have pursued the matter. It was just one more example which added to my anxiety over his leadership qualities, as he was the person who, predictions clearly indicated, was going to be the new prime minister. There were some who, because of his vacillation, questioned his integrity. It was my belief that, because of his inability to make up his mind, he often found himself floundering. Consequently, he grasped at straws and ended up in conflicting situations. When he eventually took over he would need constant support and careful shepherding. In all honesty, he was no leader, and could be influenced by the one who last spoke to him — therein lay the danger. Our black people were now paying the price for using him as a ‘respectable front’ for their campaign in 1972 to reject the agreement I had made with Alec Home. After they had succeeded in this exercise, there had been attempts to move him aside, but he had successfully resisted these, so they were hoist by their own petard.
Life went on. On Saturday 11 November 1978, as usual, we celebrated our Independence Day and, in spite of all our troubles and problems, the spirit of the people was still high. I flew down to Bulawayo to join the Matabeles for their Armistice Day Service on the Sunday, and then had an important meeting with the Matabele Chiefs the following morning. It was obvious that they were deeply concerned about political trends, and their anxiety was aggravated by the fact that the Matabeles were not represented on the executive council. The other three members of the council, Muzorewa, Sithole and Chirau, were from the Shona-speaking parts of the country, and I was the only one they could trust and talk to. I pointed out to them that Nkomo was the political leader of the Matabeles, that we had offered him a seat on the executive council and, I asked, why was he not occupying it? They assured me that they had been urging him to do so, but that he seemed to be playing some game which they could not comprehend. The answer was clear. Nkomo had confided in me that he was not the leader of the Matabeles, but the leader of all the black people in the country. However, he would be reluctant to make that point to the Matabele Chiefs. More and more it was becoming clear to me that, because of his scheming to be all things to all people, Nkomo was in danger of falling between two stools.
The four executive council members took off from New Sarum at 7 a.m. on 15 November for Pietersburg, South Africa, for a meeting with the new South African Prime Minister P.W. Botha and the inevitable Pik. After a two-hour flight, Harold Hawkins was there to meet us. The South African party had gone by chopper direct from Pretoria to the rendezvous. Hawkins was visibly annoyed to find that they had included Magnus Malan (commander of the South African Defence Force) without informing him, in keeping with accepted custom in order to enable us, if we wished, to include our equivalent in our team. Hawkins had accused Brand Fourie of deceit, and the latter had ‘trembled with rage’, but Hawkins was totally unrepentant. When he told us that we were to board a chopper and fly back to a camp on the banks of the Limpopo, our common border with South Africa — an hour’s flight back in the direction from whence we had come — I queried why we could not have the meeting here in Pietersburg, which had all the necessary facilities and conveniences?
Still fuming over our hosts’ ‘trickery’, Hawkins said: ‘Camp David!’ ‘Camp David?’ I queried. Hawkins shook his head: ‘Yes, they’ve just come back [Pik and Brand from the USA] and they have not got an original bloody thought in their heads.’
One can only be philosophical on such occasions, so we climbed on board and set off to retrace our steps. What a useless waste of time and energy this was, especially when one took into account that at the conclusion of our meeting we would once again spend a couple of hours returning to Pietersburg in order to make our return flight home. To add insult to injury, our helicopter was a big lumbering troop carrier, draughty and noisy, making communication and even thinking almost impossible. When we arrived at our destination we noticed the comfortable VIP transport our hosts had used! Fortunately it was a cool overcast day, as is usual at that time of year, with temperatures at around 120 degrees in the shade. We were given a kind reception by the army caterers and enjoyed a cup of tea before our meeting.
The object of the exercise was to pressurise us into expediting the implementation of our agreement. Clearly Rhodesia was an embarrassment to them, and they wanted to get shot of it, at almost any price. They were obviously — or more correctly Pik was — kowtowing to the black members of our council, and constantly throwing in the word Zimbabwe instead of Rhodesia. I explained to P.W. Botha how our target date of 31 December had had to be extended by an estimated two months, for the sole reason that the constitutional lawyers required the extra time to complete the task. This was nothing new, I explained; we had known the position for some months and I was of the opinion that we had kept the South Africans in the picture through Hawkins. ‘Am I correct?’ I asked him, and he gave a definite affirmative. ‘And this was conveyed to our friends here?’ We were given the same reply, and Brand Fourie nodded in agreement. Sithole made the comment that no one in this world was more eager for implementation of our plan than we were, because we lived with the problems and our own people were being killed every day. I asked if the South Africans could give us any suggestions as to how we could expedite our plan, but there was no reply. I took a few minutes to explain that the establishment of a responsible, democratic, anti-communist government in our country would not only be to the benefit of Rhodesia, but South Africa as well. P.W. agreed and assured me that there was no difference in our thinking on that point. But Pik had to wax eloquent and tell us growing world pressure was building up against them, and that the Rhodesian issue simply added to their problems. I expressed the contrary view that, while our problem remained, the rest of the world knew that without South Africa’s co-operation they would never solve our problem. For that obvious reason they dared not risk antagonising South Africa. But once Rhodesia was out of the way, in keeping with the well-known domino strategy at which the communists were world masters, I said, they would concentrate all their attention and energy on the ultimate objective: the Republic of South Africa.
That was an appropriate moment for them to pull back into the lounge, and so we adjourned for lunch, which was a splendid affair. There was a big marquee, a beautifully laid table with silver and candelabra and yellow candles, the best white and red wines (our members were conspicuous by their abstinence) and a buffet lunch, which left nothing to be desired.
It was suggested that we have a short session after lunch in order to summarise what had taken place. It would have been tactless of me had I given my opinion that this had been a classic example of an exercise in futility in view of the fact that we had not only kept them fully in the picture but they had every means of communicating with us through Hawkins in Pretoria and their ambassador in Salisbury. We certainly
had urgent matters to attend to, and I would have thought the same applied to them.
Hawkins provided the answer: it gave Pik an opportunity to perform. He did it well, charging his speech with drama, pouring lavish praise on his new leader who had performed so brilliantly over the short period he had been in the chair, ‘grappling with the extraordinary problems which the rest of the world was hurling at South Africa’. All of this was intermingled with gross exaggerations and flights of fancy. One moment he would be gazing at his leader, the next dropping his eyes to the table and shaking his head in remorse over the dreadful evils which confronted his country, and thence looking upward to the roof with hands outstretched, obviously seeking guidance. One could only be impressed with his performance, he certainly exploited to perfection the Shakespearean assertion that ‘all the world is a stage’. I found it interesting and not surprising to hear from Hawkins that, in his early days, not only was Pik an actor of repute, but that he also wrote plays.
We were offered accommodation and hospitality for the remainder of the day and night before returning home, but there were no takers. The whole set-up was a familiar scene to me, but it set my black colleagues thinking, and they asked many questions after we left. What was the true object of the exercise, in view of the fact that all along the South Africans knew the answers? Did I believe that P.W. was straight and honest? They were not sure about Pik. Chief Chirau asked: ‘Why are the South Africans so frightened about the rest of the world, when they are so big and strong and independent?’ Sithole opined that their Department of External Affairs — by the next morning, if not that very evening — would be in contact with Nkomo and would be making a plan with him.
P.W. had barely settled into his new seat. One could only sympathise with him over the problems he had inherited, such as the ‘Information Scandal’ and the general feeling that his predecessor, Vorster, was totally involved in it. There was also the question of the elimination of apartheid, which Vorster had described to me as ‘the greatest evil on our earth, worse even than communism’. This was something which had to be faced up to, but something about which Vorster had done nothing for the ensuing three years. It was said that one of P.W.’s assets was that he faced up to problems and was prepared to make decisions. He had certainly inherited a basinful. As for Pik, my comment was that foreign affairs ministries in general seemed to be part of a strange world, and once a person became entangled with them it seemed difficult to avoid becoming contaminated.
