Rhodesia's last chance, and Britain's role

Xan Smiley

Without force — or without the genuine threat to use it in extremis — the Rhodesian problem will never be solved. Force of Zimbabwean guerrilla arms is still by far the most potent means of change. So long as Britain recoils from even the possibility of any physicial commitment inside Rhodesia, so long as eyes are averted from the need to back up any plan by force, there is no hope that a changeover to black rule will be effected by any way other than continuing violence by the nationalist insurgents and the probable — though not certain — culmination of a civil war between the two wings of the guerrillas' Patriotic Front.

It is arguable that when Britain gave 'self-government' to the 20,000 or so white settlers in 1923 Rhodesia was placed irreversibly on the path to an eventual uncompromisingly bloody conflict between the whites and the blacks. Once Britain had surrendered effective power, the subsequent history of Rhodesia has been a pitiful series of meagre concessions by the whites — always far too late. Even today, Ian Smith and his friends have patently and pathetically failed to grasp the blindingly obvious paradox that only by surrendering real political power can they hope to maintain a modicum of prosperity and influence. It has been a steady slide to disaster that no Douglas Home or Owen could ever hope to stem — without the use or threat of force.

But this bleak inevitability of the descent into chaos has not been total. There have been a few rare and scattered points along the line, where Britain might have jumped to retrieve the situation. There are moments when the protagonists in the increasingly nasty drama have fleetingly reached a point of mutual exhaustion, mutual fear or simultaneous hesitation. It is at such moments that Britain may be able — given perfect timing and a renewed readiness to make a physical commitment to the country — to reverse the drift to disaster. Such a moment has arrived now. But it will soon pass.

It has by now become clear that the two rival schemes to solve the puzzle — the all-party conference to launch the Anglo-American plan and the SmithMuzorewa-Sithole attempt to implement the internal plan — have both equally failed. Looking back at the sequence of sorry events which have culminated in this it is probably true that the internal plan had the slightly better chance of success. Its deficiencies were severe. Bishop Muzorewa gave too much away in the debate on parliamentary representation, white blocking mechanisms and the rest. But if Smith had — within days of signing the 3 March, accord — grasped the nettle and abolished all discriminatory and segregationist laws, then blacks might have accepted the constitutional effects of the plan as a shortterm palliative for the whites; and even guerrillas might in substantial numbers have reckoned that their goal had been reached.

Owen was right not to recognise the internal accord. That would have lulled Smith and the whites into an even greater sense of complacency and unreality than they have already displayed without overt British backing. It is more arguable whether Owen should have offered greater encouragement to force the pace of the internal settlement: a British observer on the spot to kick the parties along, a more loudly voiced prospect of help if Smith were instantly and eagerly to set about dismantling the hateful legislation enacted by him and his predecessors over the years. But perhaps it was naive to expect Smith to whip up the necessary enthusiasm to turn everything he has ever stood for on its head overnight. Instead, the deep-rooted racism, stupidity and lack.

of imagination of Smith's Rhodesian Front have accelerated the whites' rush to mass suicide. Bishop Muzorewa simply hasn't been big or bright enough to drag them by the hand in the other direction. The internal settlement is dead.

The Anglo-American proposals, on the other hand, as a recipe for transition, have not yet had a chance to fail. But the manner of their implementation has proved utterly fatuous, and Owen will now have to alter his tactics sharply. In order to launch his plan his demands for signals of more good faith from the various unlikely bedfellows, from Mugabe to Smith, have sounded increasingly hollow. Again and again it has been clear that there is no likelihood whatsoever that Smith and Mugabe — to cite the extremes — will ever voluntarily totter into bed together. Smith has rejected the crucial security clauses of the proposals; and though the Patriotic Front has accepted the plan 'in principle' and as 'the basis for negotiation', its actual demands — for instance, to dominate the transitional government — are totally irreconcilable with the spirit of the proposed deal. Owen has grandiloquently declared that no side shall have a veto, yet — with Britain abjuring the use of force to 'get in there', and with Lord Carver and the UN able to hold only an ambiguous brief once in — it is equally clear that each of the three armies involved (Smith's, Nkomo's and Mugabe's) has indeed used the veto to prevent the Owen plan from getting off the ground at all. There must be a departure from current British policy.

The problem for Owen is first, how to get in; and secondly, once there, to what extent is he prepared to use force to hold the ring. These questions have been painstakingly avoided. Up till now, with the luckless Anglo-American diplomatic duo of John Graham and Steve Low scuttling inconsequentially around Africa, Britain has wishfully hoped that all sides will somehow shuffle into line 'for the good of Zimbabwe'. The time is now ripe for Owen and Callaghan to adopt a much higher profile, to lead rather than follow.

For the logjam has unwittingly been unblocked by two events: first, the slaughter of the survivors after the shooting down of the Air Rhodesia Viscount by Nkomo's guerrillas; secondly and more important, the failure of the Smith-Nkomo talks on 14 August. The Viscount horror has made it impolitic, for a month or two, for Smith to toy with the idea of a bilateral deal with Nkomo. More importantly, the Smith-Nkomo rendezvous created havoc both among the Patriotic Front allies (Nkomo's ZAPU and Mugabe's ZANU) and among the frontline leaders, principally Zambia's Kenneth Kaunda and Tanzania's Julius Nyerere. This is in one sense good, for a sudden new fluidity has now loosened up what was a rigid bloc. There is simultaneous hesitation and mutual fear — the ingredients of new movement. There is also a feeling among both whites and guerrillas of mutual exhaustion. The whites, it goes without saying, are at their wit's end — though they can still fend off any conventional guerrilla attack. The guerrillas themselves are probably far more dispirited than the flow of events apparently in their favour might suggest. Both ZAF'U and ZANU, but especially Mugabe's men, constantly suffer internal discord and repression, and Smith can still carry out mass slaughter whenever he raids guerrilla havens in Mozambique or Zambia. The Smith-Nkomo talks, with the inherent deception of Mugabe by his ally, Shook the Patriotic Front to the core. Mugabe, however freely his troops may roam through rural Rhodesia, must have felt isolated, for his international links — in terms of diplomacy, arms and money — remain weak. The solidarity of the frontline states was assailed also: Kaunda was clearly thinking independently of Nyerere. Perhaps the most important feature of all was the connivance in the secret meeting by Nigeria, which thus evinced a readiness to seek out new initiatives. The mutual exhaustion of the various parties and the renewed fluidity of black alliances both favour a lead from Britain. Finally, the disgraceful sanctions-busting scandal reveals not just hYPoerisy but also the utter fecklessness of British policy over Rhodesia: now, more than ever before, is it incumbent on Britain to show some courage.

Yet the British are still hoping for the legendary all-party conference — which would be held, it is now said, even if Smith fails to attend. It will no doubt be argued that such a conference — whoever Comes along — will 'define British options', as though there had not been tune for that already. In addition, it would help Britain maintain the paperthin facade of 'evenhandedness'.

Whether or not the conference materialises, Britain should now embark on a more radical course. It must, short, prepare itself to follow a line which some parties may not wish to pursue. It may be sadly true that Britain is incap abler 0. carrying out direct military action. The two keys are Zambia and South Africa. Nigeria may, it seems, provide moral (i.e. OAU) support for an aggressive British scheme less dependent on winning consensus among all the quarrelling parties. Nyerere and Tanzania, machel and Mozambique will be expected to follow suit, however reluctantly. The most important change in British policy should be that the wishes neither of Ian Smith nor of the Patriotic Front would be paramount in any further Plan: If, as appears likely, Smith and the P. atriotic Front prove incapable of reachin.g an agreement, the British must plan higher-handed action instead of waiting for a mythical day of multi-party reconciliation.

.First, Smith and the Rhodesian Front Will have to be coerced by a combination of South African economic strangulation and the threat of a coup by Smith's own security bosses, who have generally been a few steps ahead of the white politicians. The leadership struggle in Pretoria is awkwardly timed, but it is likely that Whoever emerges as the new Afrikaner leader will accept that Rhodesia's internal settlement must be abandoned. Despite the blind bravery of white Rhodesians, most of them have been numbed by Political insecurity into a state where they will accept a pre-emptive coup by their security chiefs in order to let the British in. Whether or not an all-party conference materialises, the British and Kaunda must agree upon a new formula for a direct British leadership role allowing for `recolonisation before decolonisation' and the re-imposition of British sovereignty in Rhodesia. The Patriotic Front cannot be allowed to insist upon a dominant part in a transitional government, or upon the guerrillas replacing the white-officered army wholesale. Kaunda must spell this out to his protege Nkomo. Nyerere and Mozambique's Machel are similarly ready — though less enthusiastic — to tell Mugabe the same. If the guerrillas grumble, their bases must be closed. Then the battle will be almost won.

But this depends on the style, precision and determination of Britain's commitment. Once a British-led force is inside Rhodesia, I would assume that the bulk of Smith's men will accept the game is up. The twin drive towards a ceasefire and a general election must be facilitated by the back-up of a Commonwealth or UN force. The elections, incidentally, will be designed to meet the terms not of the internal settlement but of the original Anglo-American plan. It will be up to Carver to set vigorously about the hardest task of all: the establishment of a new Zimbabwean army. Of course there are risks. Whitehall officials have already talked darkly of 'a Lebanon' in Zambia if Nkomo's men, more numerous than Kaunda's army and well-equipped by Russians and Cubans, baulk at the plan, even if it has been endorsed by Kaunda. If Nkomo does agree and Mugabe doesn't, the British military force (presumably a small one) and its Commonwealth allies could be involved in a war in Rhodesia. The answer is that it will be won, because black Rhodesians — paternalistic though this may seem — will heed British declarations that independence is imminent, whereas Smith's internal settlement promises have been treated with cautious scepticism and have indeed in reality been found wanting. The even more frightening risk that Mozam bique will send in Cubans will be cancelled out by Nigerian (and hence OAU) approval of the bold new British scheme.

What is required is British nerve and British leadership, not appeals for decency and multi-party love. First of all, Callaghan must go and tell it to Smith, just as he flew to see Kaunda. It is largely a matter of style and timing. If Britain spoke to the frontline leaders, Kaunda and Nyerere, in a manner which suggested it meant business in re imposing sovereignty over Rhodesia, I have no doubt they would take the cue and kick the Patriotic Front into line. The PF rhetoric of revolution and total military victory masks a gnawing inner despair at its huge losses in the battlefield and at the prospect of civil war and wholesale destruction. If Britain can con vince Kaunda that the PF must return to face an election; and if South Africa and Rhodesia's security chiefs can force Smith to bow out, Britain can enter the vacuum. I assume, naturally, that the opportunity will be missed. In Washington, whence I have just returned, and in London too, the tendency is for policymakers to wag a moralistic finger at Smith and sigh with a sort of tired complacency, that if 'things do slide out of control at least we will be seen to have kept our hands clean'. Does Rhodesia really matter, anyway? The whites will presumably run away, the blacks will fight it out, one faction or another will inherit the empty shell, the economy will be set back fifteen years or so, and the West, with its technology and experience etc will worm its way back into any Zimbabwean ruler's heart.

This won't do. The words may seem ridiculous nowadays, but we do actually have a moral responsibility. To do what? Implement democracy? Democracy in Africa means many things. On BBC Radio 4 on Sunday, when nagged on a phone-in programme by a particularly obtuse prospective MP from Essex, Nkomo was unable to pledge himself to maintain 'multi-party democracy.' How could he? Few Africans, in my experience, have much desire for multi-party democracy: the concept of a 'loyal opposition' is crazy. What most want, however, is a measure, however fettered, of consensus, tolerance, freedom of expression and freedom of enterprise, probably within a one-party system. The best way of ensuring that is to arrange for the institutions — the judicial apparatus, academia, the civil service and so on — to be transferred more or less intact, since they are the key to a reasonably tolerant society. The history of neighbouring Mozambique has differed sharply from Rhodesia's, and it is debatable whether the totalitarian society now being built there is good for the country. It certainly would not suit Zimbabwe. Britain surely has a moral responsibility to take the risk needed to avoid it.