The Downing Street Years (89 page)

The year 1985 was one of mounting crisis for South Africa. There was widespread rioting. A state of emergency was declared in many parts of the country. Foreign banks refused to renew South African credit and the South African Government declared a four-month freeze on the repayment of the principal of foreign debt. My old friend Fritz Leutwiler, former head of the Swiss Central Bank, was appointed as a mediator between the banks and the South African Government. We kept in contact so I knew what was happening. The international pressure on South Africa continued to mount. President Reagan, who was as opposed to economic sanctions as I was, introduced a limited package of sanctions to forestall pressure from Congress. It was clear that the Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting in the Bahamas at Nassau that October would be a difficult one for me.

So in September I held a seminar at Chequers to clarify our thinking on tactics towards South Africa. Apart from Geoffrey Howe, Malcolm Rifkind, Paul Channon and Ian Stewart (from the Treasury), there were present a range of businessmen, academics and one or two interested and well informed MPs. None of us would have ‘started from here’ had we the choice. On the one hand the reform process in South Africa had ground to a halt: the constitutional reforms had proved a dead end because they did not involve even moderate middle-class blacks. On the other, the European Community was moving towards imposing sanctions. We had placed a reserve on the measures agreed
by the Community earlier that month, though in fact, on closer inspection, most of these turned out to accord with our existing practice and I agreed to lift it before the CHOGM. One idea which was raised at the meeting was sending a ‘contact group’ of ‘eminent persons’ to try to get talks off the ground between the South African Government and representatives of the black community.

In the run up to the conference I did what I could to try to slow down the Gadarene rush towards imposing sanctions. I wrote to Commonwealth heads of government urging that instead we try to bring about negotiations between the South African Government and representatives of the black population. But it was already clear that we would be in for plenty of posturing from those intent on cutting a figure on the international stage.

I saw Brian Mulroney in Nassau on the first evening of the conference. He urged me to take the initiative by proposing a package of measures representing the lowest common denominator of Commonwealth agreement. All would be committed to it as the minimum, but it would be open to individual governments to do more if they chose. I told him that experience had taught me never to put forward ideas at too early a stage and I ended by saying: ‘I have made my final — and I mean final — step in accepting the European position on sanctions. I don’t relish being isolated within the Commonwealth, but if necessary so be it.’ I took the same line in similar meetings with Robert Mugabe, Kenneth Kaunda and Bob Hawke.

Bob Hawke opened the conference debate on South Africa, obviously seeking a compromise. Kenneth Kaunda followed with an emotional call for sanctions. I tried to meet both points of view in my reply. I began by detailing the evidence of social and economic change in South Africa. I carefully cited the number of black South Africans who had professional qualifications, who had cars, who were in business. Of course, there was a long way to go. But we were not faced with a static situation. The speech had an effect, as I saw from the reactions of those around the table. But natural caution had led me to have a fall-back position prepared: after my meeting with Brian Mulroney my officials had worked up a note of options for further measures, which I would take with me to the heads of government retreat over the weekend at Lyford Cay, where I knew that the real business would be done.

Lyford Cay is a beautiful spot with interesting historical associations.
Private houses in the estate had been made available for the delegations. The central club there was effectively the Conference Centre. In a rather nice touch the Prime Minister of the Bahamas had seen that the house allocated to me and my delegation was the one where the Polaris agreement had been signed by Harold Macmillan and John Kennedy in 1962. At Lyford Cay a drafting committee of heads of government was somehow formed and in the course of Saturday morning drew up a draft communiqué on South Africa. Meanwhile I got on with other work. At 2 o’clock Brian Mulroney and Rajiv Gandhi arrived at the house to show me their best efforts. Alas, I could not give them high marks and spent the best part of two hours explaining why their proposals were unacceptable to me. I suggested that the text should include a firm call for an end to violence in South Africa as a condition for further dialogue: but this they considered far too controversial.

After dinner I was invited to join a wider group and put under great pressure to agree to the line they wanted. Bob Hawke bitterly attacked me. I replied with vigour. In a steadily worsening atmosphere, the argument went on for some three hours. Fortunately, I can never be defeated by attrition.

Overnight, I had officials prepare an alternative text to be presented at the plenary session due to begin at 10.30 next morning, before which a dejected Sonny Ramphal, the Commonwealth Secretary-General, begged me to compromise and show goodwill. There was certainly not much goodwill evident when the meeting began. The British text was not even considered. I was lectured on my political morality, on my preferring British jobs to black lives, on my lack of concern for human rights. One after the other, their accusations became more vitriolic and personal until I could stand it no longer.

To their palpable alarm I began to tell my African critics a few home truths. I noted that they were busily trading with South Africa at the same time as they were attacking me for refusing to apply sanctions. I wondered when they intended to show similar concern about abuses in the Soviet Union, with which of course they often had not just trade but close political links. I wondered when I was going to hear them attack terrorism. I reminded them of their own less than impressive record on human rights. And when the representative from Uganda took me to task for racial discrimination, I turned on him and reminded him of the Asians which Uganda had thrown out on racial grounds, many of whom had come to settle in my constituency in North London, where they were model citizens and doing very well. No one spoke for my position, though President Jayewardene of Sri
Lanka caused something of a ripple when he said that in any case he had no intention of ending trade links with South Africa because it would throw the Sri Lankan tea planters out of work. The heads of government of some of the smaller states also told me privately that they agreed with me.

Over the lunch break I made a tactical decision as to which of the prepared options I would concede. My modest choice was to take unilateral action against the import of krugerrands and withdraw official support for trade promotion with South Africa. I would only do this, however, if there was a clear reference in the communiqué to the need to stop the violence. Then at 3.30 p.m. I went to join the ‘drafting committee’ in the library.

As I entered the room they all glared at me. It was extraordinary how the pack instinct of politicians could change a group of normally courteous, in some cases even charming, people into a gang of bullies. I had never been treated like this and I was not going to stand for it. So I began by saying that I had never been so insulted as I had by the people in that room and that it was an entirely unacceptable way of conducting international business. At once the murmurs of surprise and regret rose: one by one they protested that it was not ‘personal’. I answered that it clearly was personal and I wasn’t having it. The atmosphere immediately became more subdued. They asked me what I would accept. I announced the concessions I was prepared to make. I said that this was as far as I was going: if my proposals were not accepted I would withdraw and the United Kingdom would issue its own statement. The erstwhile ‘draftsmen’ went into a huddle. Ten minutes later it was all over. I suddenly became a stateswoman for having accepted a ‘compromise’. A text was agreed and at a plenary session later that evening was accepted without amendment.

Though I was genuinely hurt and dismayed by the behaviour I had witnessed, I was not displeased with the outcome. In particular, I was glad that the Commonwealth heads of government endorsed an idea with which several of us had been toying — the sending of a group of ‘eminent persons’ to South Africa to report back on the situation to a future conference. This had the great merit of giving us time — both to press the South Africans for further reform and to fight the diplomatic battle. I sought to persuade Geoffrey Howe to be an ‘eminent person’ but he was most reluctant to do so. He probably rated its chances of success as poor, and events proved him right. I may, myself, have been less than tactful. For when he protested that he was Foreign Secretary and could not do both jobs, I said that I could just about cope with his as well while he was away. Since by now I was firmly
in charge of our approach to South Africa, making the main decisions directly from No. 10, that may have been close to the bone. One advantage of those eventually chosen as members of the ‘Eminent Persons Group’ was that a distinguished black African, the Nigerian General Obasanjo, would act as chairman of the group and would see for himself what the reality of life in South Africa was. But this advantage was more than cancelled out by the problems created by Malcolm Fraser, still full of rancour at his election defeat by Bob Hawke, longing to achieve a high international profile once more and consequently making a thoroughly ‘eminent person’ of himself.

At the press conference after the summit I described, with complete accuracy, the concessions I had made on sanctions as ‘tiny’, which enraged the Left and undoubtedly irritated the Foreign Office. But I did not believe in sanctions and I was not prepared to justify them. I was able to leave the shores of Nassau with my policy intact, albeit with my personal relations with Commonwealth leaders somewhat bruised: but that, after all, was not entirely my fault. And there were thousands of black Africans who would keep their jobs because of the battle I had fought.

I had no illusions that I had succeeded in doing anything more at Nassau than stave off for the present the pressure for sanctions against South Africa. It remained to be seen what would come of the ‘eminent persons’ visit to southern Africa. In fact it was an unmitigated disaster. Whether to scupper the initiative or for quite unconnected reasons, the South African armed forces launched raids against African National Congress (ANC) bases in Botswana, Zambia and Zimbabwe and the EPG cut short their visit.

This gave me a very difficult hand to play at the European Council meeting at the Hague in June 1986 — and because the actions of European Community countries, unlike most Commonwealth members, could have a real impact on the South African economy this was at least as important a forum for the sanctions issue as was CHOGM. The Dutch themselves — the Netherlands having been the original home of the Afrikaners — suffered from a pervasive guilt complex about South Africa, which did not make them ideal chairmen. But Chancellor Kohl — who, at least at this stage, was as strongly opposed to sanctions as I was — led the debate. I supported him, followed by the Prime Minister of Portugal. In the end we agreed to consider introducing later in the year a ban on new investment and sanctions
on imports of South African coal, iron, steel and krugerrands. But it was also agreed that Geoffrey Howe should, as a sort of lone ‘eminent person’ and in view of the fact that Britain would shortly be taking on the presidency of the Community, visit South Africa to press for reform and the release of Nelson Mandela.

Geoffrey was extremely reluctant to go and it must be said that his reluctance proved justified since he was insulted by President Kaunda and brushed off by President Botha. I later learned that he thought I had set him up for an impossible mission and was deeply angry about it. I can only say that I had no such intention. I had a real admiration for Geoffrey’s talent for quiet diplomacy. If anyone could have made a breakthrough he would have done it.

Shortly after Geoffrey’s return I had to face the Special Commonwealth Conference on South Africa which we had agreed at Lyford Cay to review progress. It had been decided that seven Commonwealth heads of governments would meet in London in August. The worst aspect was that because of President P.W. Botha’s obstinacy we did not have enough to show by way of progress since the Nassau CHOGM. There had been some significant reforms and the partial state of emergency had been lifted in March. But a nationwide state of emergency had been imposed in June, Mr Mandela was still in prison, and the ANC and other similar organizations were still banned. With the fiasco of the ‘Eminent Persons Group’ in addition, there was no prospect of peaceful political dialogue between the South African Government and representatives of the black population. The US Congress was exerting increasing pressure for tough sanctions and later in the year forced a change in the Administration’s policy by overruling President Reagan’s veto on a new sanctions bill. It was clear that I would have to come up with some modest package of measures, though whether this would arrest the march towards full-scale economic sanctions was doubtful. In any case, I had a little list. For use as a diplomatic weapon of a rather different kind I had another little list of Commonwealth countries which applied detention without trial and similar illiberal practices — just in case.

The media and the Opposition were by now quite obsessive about South Africa. There was talk of the Commonwealth breaking up if Britain did not change its position on sanctions, though there was never any likelihood of either event. I was always convinced — and my postbag showed — that the views and priorities of these commentators were quite unrepresentative of what the general public felt. But that did not make it any more pleasant. On the eve of the conference Denis and I visited Edinburgh where the Commonwealth Games were
to be held. We went to see the competitors — those at least whose countries had not boycotted the event — in the Games ‘village’, to be met by a few catcalls and some sour criticism. I did not disagree with Denis when he remarked that this was ‘one of the most poisonous visits’ we had ever made. It was a relief to dine that evening with my good friend Laurens van der Post who talks good sense about South Africa and who had been very helpful when we were negotiating independence for Zimbabwe.