Bitter Harvest

by Ian Smith

  It was clear that things had taken a turn for the worse, that they were drifting out of control with no positive direction. Our salvation lay with Walls and the other members of the Nat JOC, who had made it clear that they would insist on compliance with the terms of the Lancaster House agreement, and that this would mean the disqualification of the PF. But a few of my cabinet colleagues had doubts as to whether, in the event of a showdown, they would have the courage of their convictions. I believed that McLaren would have the necessary strength, but he was number two in the command structure, and it was common knowledge that there were strong differences of opinion, indeed sometimes friction, between him and Walls. I had the opportunity to speak to McLaren on 31 January when I was back in my office after a successful run of meetings through my constituency from Beit Bridge to Bulawayo. I spoke to him about a few points I had picked up on my trip, and he confided in me the serious differences of opinion at the Nat JOC. They were getting into deep water because of their political inexperience. Criticism of Walls was growing because of his hostility towards me personally, and his unwillingness to discuss politics with the politicians. I recommended that he and his friends impress upon Walls the vital need to put the national interest before personalities, and assured him that van der Byl and I would always be available for consultation.

  I spent the following week addressing election meetings all over the country, and our white electorate were strong and united — it was clear that our white opposition, the starry-eyed liberals, were receiving no support. Then on 10 February there was an opportunity to influence the military. I met up with P.K. van der Byl at his residence for a meeting with Walls and McLaren. There was no difference of opinion. The plan was clear and in keeping with what had been the objective at Lancaster House: bringing together the anti-communist parties in order to ensure that Mugabe and his Marxist-Leninists did not win. My fear was that they would win through intimidation, and that was an area in which I could make no contribution, being no longer Prime Minister and thus head of the security forces. This was clearly the responsibility of Nat JOC. Walls believed that the position was being contained, and McLaren, while conceding his concern, agreed that their information from their people on the ground supported what Walls had said. It was agreed that we should maintain contact. According to van der Byl, McLaren and the other members of Nat JOC had pressurised Walls into attending the meeting.

  On 11 February, Janet and I flew out to the United States, where I had been offered a platform to address a gathering of influential people, mainly American but with a sprinkling of visitors from other countries. It was a bit unusual for the leader of a political party to depart the scene in the middle of an election campaign, but my assessment was that our white electorate were totally realistic and responsible and even more united than previously. Accordingly I concluded that in the national interest it was important to use the opportunity to put over the case for our country. Our decision was justified when, on 14 February, the Rhodesian Front won all twenty of the reserved white seats.

  After our return, and with the common-roll elections a mere two days away, Muzorewa called a meeting of the Lancaster House delegation at his official residence, ‘Independence’, 8 Chancellor Avenue, on 25 February. It was obvious that intimidation was rampant, and that the British, contrary to their word, were not prepared to raise a finger. What could we do? he asked. There were many suggestions, all necessitating action by the Nat JOC, so clearly they had to be brought into the discussion. Not uncharacteristically, Muzorewa wished to go off to a party meeting, but he received a positive message from the rest of the gathering to stay where he was while the security chiefs were called. I had time to sit back and look around the big lounge which Janet had furnished and decorated so tastefully. It was vastly changed and now looked a bit like a barn, with a few gaudy pictures, and dirty brown stains all over the beautiful carpet. I turned my mind away and looked out of the windows — the trees we had planted were growing well. Nature, not man, was attending to that.

  The security chiefs arrived and were presented with the picture as we saw it. They were of the firm belief that the proscribing of any party was a non-starter — the OAU would turn against us, and would probably succeed in persuading the free world to do likewise. They also claimed that any such action would earn the disapproval of South Africa, as they had been informed by their counterparts down there that P.W. Botha had made it clear to Machel that if he did not accept the result of a straight election in Rhodesia, Mozambique would be in serious trouble. But, they argued, if we proscribed Mugabe’s party, Machel’s protégé, he would have the necessary excuse. I made the point that we were all prepared to accept the result of a straight election, but that we were considering a doubtfully organised election here. Moreover, how could Britain object to our insistence on the implementation of their agreement, which they had signed at Lancaster House? Surely we were not going to kowtow to the views of the communists in the OAU. I looked for any sign of acknowledgement of my comments, but there was none, apart from McLaren, who was gently nodding his head in agreement.

  What about the question of postponement of the election? Walls said that, in their opinion, this would serve no purpose, and in fact we would lose, not gain ground. In any case, they believed that it was now too late. There was some substance in this view, but I made the point that this situation had arisen because we had failed to keep our team together and hold regular meetings of our security council. McLaren openly agreed — I knew that he had been agitating for such meetings. The fault lay with the mixture of the two leaders, Muzorewa and Walls — Muzorewa’s indecision had allowed matters to drift, while Walls believed that matters were under control and therefore that there was no need to consult with anyone else. I was appalled at their apparent acquiescence to what was going on around us, their philosophical acceptance of the impending disaster. There was a similarity to my last meeting with Soames — they looked tired and ready to surrender. Since they had rejected all our proposals, I asked how they believed the problem could be solved. Walls replied that by bringing in Nkomo, whom they estimated would win twenty seats, we would secure a majority in Parliament. Ndabaningi Sithole interjected to say that we already had the twenty white seats. It was difficult to believe that the other parties together would not win fifteen to twenty seats, and this would give us a total of between fifty-five and sixty seats while the basic requirement for a majority was fifty-one seats. Muzorewa’s comment was that if he and his party could not collect twenty seats, then they were Mickey Mouse. I could not help saying to myself that he had given us a perfect description.

  It was a most depressing day, and I was in the exasperating situation of not being able to influence the course of affairs. The problem was that our leaders had bungled the agreement at Lancaster House, and were now floundering. The incompetence they had displayed in London was simply being perpetuated here in Salisbury, with the British Foreign Office outsmarting them all along the line, much to the joy of the OAU and their protégé, Mugabe.

  It is important to stress that the British received strong and decisive support from South Africa in their campaign to sidetrack me, and they were maintaining this pressure both politically and financially. Of course it must be conceded that, for a number of years, I had been a thorn in South African flesh, because whenever they attempted to use the Rhodesian problem to their own advantage, I had the temerity to question their motives. When I stood my ground, supported by my cabinet and security chiefs, because I was convinced that the South African recommendations were not in the best interests of Rhodesia, they resorted to the tactic of turning the screws in inconspicuous ways. For example, they held back on the supply of arms or fuel or, as Vorster did at the 1976 Pretoria meeting, told us that his government had come to the conclusion, reluctantly, that their finances were such that they could no longer afford to continue supporting us. Later at the same meeting, however, after we had agreed to accept the proposals, he was happy to assure us tha
t under these circumstances they would give us even greater support. He then went even further in response to our queries by giving a solemn pledge that in the event of the other parties reneging on the agreement, South African support would be even stronger. Moreover, he promised, the rest of the free world would join in condemnation of the defaulting parties. As history records, none of those undertakings was ever fulfilled. And what continued to irk them in February 1980, was that, while I was no longer Prime Minister, I was still part of the political scene, and the fact that the Rhodesian Front had now won all twenty white parliamentary seats, was a source of great anguish to them.

  On 26 February, the eve of the three-day common-roll election, I was asked by van der Byl to come to his residence for a meeting with Walls, McLaren and Flower. There was a more searching discussion than that of the previous day; they felt freer to talk in this confined space. They reiterated their consensus that we would win enough seats to form a government. I asked, what if we did not? They were vague. Any action would not work if it involved only the whites — we all knew that. Unfortunately, Muzorewa was not a strong enough peg, they said — maybe Nkomo would be. But even the South Africans had warned that they would have to be convinced of the validity of our action. I asked if this had come from P.W. or Pik? Walls replied P.W. via a message from Magnus Malan. There was still a big difference of opinion and friction between their military, who were keen to support us, and their Department of External Affairs who were ready to scuttle. I came back to my main point: ‘Are we prepared to condone a breach of the Lancaster House agreement in order to permit a communist takeover?’

  I was not suggesting any unconstitutional action. Surely, I argued, because of the massive intimidation we would be within our rights to demand a re-election. Even Soames had conceded that there was a mass of affidavits confirming intimidation, including some from British observers. McLaren and Flower concurred, but there was no spark from Walls. He said that he and Flower had visited Maputo over the weekend for a meeting with Machel, who was most reasonable and co-operative, and it might be wrong to do anything which would upset him. I had to say that I could not believe that implementing the Lancaster House agreement would upset Machel, or the South Africans or the British — they were all party to it. We had, I maintained, no option other than to call their bluff. Surely the time had come for someone to make a stand, and I believed that any man worth his salt would support us. There was no doubt in my mind that this applied to 99 per cent of our Rhodesians. They agreed to go away and think.

  While the elections were being held, I had a pleasant few days at ‘Gwenoro’. On 2 March, however, I received a message from van der Byl which urged me to return for a meeting with the Nat JOC — Walls, McLaren, Flower, Conolly (of Internal Affairs), MacLean and Mussell. I thought: ‘How things have changed, for not only are they now ready to talk to me, but they are sufficiently daring to hold the meeting in my house! ‘They somewhat sombrely informed us that the preliminary election reports indicated that my fears were well founded. These indications had come from returning officers who had been requested to mark the X on behalf of those who were illiterate (the majority of our black electorate). The women, who were supposed to be solidly behind Muzorewa, were showing open support for Mugabe, and many farmers had reported that, for the previous two nights, the terrorists had moved into their compounds and that this had done the trick. However, in spite of this, their assessment was that while Mugabe could win forty-five seats, Nkomo would win twenty, Muzorewa between twelve and fifteen and maybe one or two would go to Sithole and the others. Therefore we would still have a majority for a government of national unity. I disagreed and asked for their plan in the event of PF winning more than fifty seats. Walls was reluctant to face up to my question and simply reiterated that they were satisfied this could not happen. I could not let them get away with that. I followed up by saying that, as we all knew, our highly efficient security forces always had contingency plans for every possibility, even the impossible — I was unable to accept that they did not have a plan for this most likely eventuality. Van der Byl backed me up with his typically eloquent reasoning, and McLaren said that, while he personally had reservations, in his professional capacity he must acknowledge the assessment of their people on the ground. I then asked if the report they had just presented was not at variance with their previous assessments, and looked to Walls for a response. After hesitating for a few moments, eventually he said: ‘In the final event we will not allow Mugabe to win.’

  For the first time during the meeting he appeared firm and positive. When I queried as to whether he could elaborate on his statement, he said: ‘No. ‘I did not press the matter any further; I was no longer in a position to do so. Sadly, Muzorewa would not be doing anything about it.

  I thought it worthwhile to reiterate what I had said at the meeting with Muzorewa at 8 Chancellor Avenue the previous week that a PF victory would obviously be the result of massive intimidation, with the necessary evidence available for all to witness. The obvious solution was to publicise this and declare the election null and void, and force the British to remain in position with a council of ministers, including Mugabe and Nkomo, until conditions of normalcy had returned and it was possible to hold a free and fair election. Walls did not think there was much hope of the British going along with this; they were too tired now. My response was that if the demand came from the politicians the British would brush it off, but if it came from the Nat JOC they would not dare. As we all knew, the Lancaster House agreement clearly stated that our security forces would remain in control, as indeed they were, until the process had been completed. This was our guarantee that everything would be fair and above board. This was emphasised on a number of occasions by Carrington. How could we contemplate allowing this to go by default? If the Nat JOC confronted Soames with such a case they could force him to accept it and make a public statement over the air and in the national press. If Soames shirked his responsibility, the Nat JOC must inform him that they would be compelled to do the job on his behalf. What a dreadfully degrading situation this would be for Soames and the British government; surely this was something which they dared not accept.

  Walls then said that he had sent just such a message to Margaret Thatcher on the previous day, Saturday 1 March — he had not even cleared it with his colleagues because of the weekend, but would do so on Monday morning, 3 March. He was scathing in his criticism of Soames and the British government, indicating that there was massive evidence, including some from British monitors and policemen, confirming extensive intimidation. That was fine as far as it went, I said, but what about a plan to cope with the British Foreign Office’s obvious intentions to bend the rules in order to appease the OAU? Surely we could not condone such blatant treachery, especially when we would be on the receiving end of the ensuing disaster? There was a kind of reluctant acceptance from the meeting of this, but Walls repeated that they would need a black leader, and that Muzorewa was a non-starter.

  I reiterated that this strategy was wrong — a political solution was clearly not available. It seemed obvious that the solution lay with the Nat JOC, who were charged with the task of ensuring that the elections were free and fair. They were in possession of all the evidence confirming the widespread intimidation. Indeed, I said, Walls had given the answer earlier in the meeting when he replied: ‘We will not allow Mugabe to win.’

  They were all deep in thought, and it was agreed that we would meet again, if need be, the next day.

  On Monday 3 March, I accordingly met my Rhodesian Front ministerial colleagues and listened to their various assessments. David Smith brought up the question of the considerable assistance we were receiving from South Africa. He was completely in the picture, as it was part of the plan arranged by him and Muzorewa on their visits to South Africa. He warned that this would be cut off if there was any plan involving Mugabe’s participation. They had made clear their very strong feelings on this subject. There were some crit
ical reactions from the other members, and one commented: ‘The South Africans would support the devil for their own ends; they have completely prostituted themselves over Rhodesia.’ We agreed to meet at 8.30. the next morning, as the results would be coming in all day.

  After the meeting, Walls sent his secretary to me with a copy of his message to Margaret Thatcher, sent the previous Saturday. In this, he had reminded her of her commitment to oppose Marxism, her strong recommendation of Soames and her undertaking to support our security forces in their task. Regrettably, Walls stated, Soames had proved weak and incompetent, was ignoring the evidence on intimidation, and clearly had no intention of complying with the British government’s commitments. Walls said he believed that the British should continue with their mission until it had been properly completed, and warned that, if they were not prepared to comply with the agreement, he reserved the right to act in the manner he thought best. I liked the last sentence — we now awaited Maggie’s reply.