South Africa Going Part of the Way

By William E. Smith

"We ended up as friendly as we started," declared Britain's Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher at the close of a special two-day meeting of seven leaders of the 49-nation Commonwealth last week. Actually, relations between Thatcher and her Commonwealth colleagues were strained at the beginning of the session and got steadily worse. In the end Indian Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi accused Britain of "compromising its basic values for economic gain." An even angrier Kenneth Kaunda, the President of Zambia, described Thatcher as a "pathetic figure" who was "worshiping platinum and gold."

The issue, of course, was economic sanctions against South Africa, which 48 Commonwealth governments support but Thatcher has steadfastly opposed. She argues that sanctions would work hardship on millions of blacks in South Africa and neighboring countries while failing to destroy apartheid; she also feared the effect they might have on Britain's estimated $18 billion investment in South Africa and its $3 billion in annual trade with that country.

Present at the divisive Marlborough House summit, in addition to Gandhi and Kaunda, were Prime Ministers Brian Mulroney of Canada, Robert Hawke of Australia, Robert Mugabe of Zimbabwe and Sir Lynden Pindling of the Bahamas. On the second day of the meeting, Thatcher dropped her opposition to a proposed European Community ban on South African coal, steel and iron, and said she would accept "voluntary" restrictions on new British investment and the promotion of South African tourism. For the other six leaders present, this was nowhere near enough. Together they endorsed a set of sanctions proposed at a previous Commonwealth gathering that included a ban on agricultural imports, new investment and air links. For good measure, they added a ban on new bank loans and the import of uranium.

Within hours South Africa demonstrated how seriously it considered the Commonwealth action. "You can rest assured we are not going to take this lying down," declared Foreign Minister Roelof ("Pik") Botha. At a Pretoria press conference he announced what amounted to retaliatory actions. One was a levy on goods transported from South African ports to black states to the north. A cash deposit of 25% will now be required for imported goods bound for Zambia. In addition, a slowdown immediately went into effect at the Beit Bridge crossing between South Africa and Zimbabwe, as officials began a "statistical" study of the "nature and extent" of all goods moving across the border. Decrying what he called the "hysterical stampede" against South Africa, Botha challenged Mugabe and Kaunda to "put their money where their mouth is and introduce comprehensive sanctions against this country." Zambia condemned Pretoria's action as "blackmail and intimidation." Mugabe, on his return to Zimbabwe, told his countrymen to brace themselves for hard times. "All thought of luxury and comfort will have to go," he said. "It is just like a war."

As the pressure for sanctions increased last month, Thatcher twice sent her Foreign Secretary, Sir Geoffrey Howe, to Pretoria. His mission: to seek the release from prison of Black Leader Nelson Mandela and the "unbanning" of the African National Congress, the exiled black political movement, in the hope of heading off sanctions. Howe was rebuffed at every turn, both by black leaders angered at Thatcher's refusal to consider sanctions and by the government of State President P.W. Botha for "direct interference" in South Africa's affairs. By mid-July, Kaunda was threatening to leave the Commonwealth if Thatcher remained adamant. Reports were even circulating that Queen Elizabeth II, the titular head of the Commonwealth, was worried about the possibility of its breakup.

Thus last week's meeting opened in an atmosphere of apprehension. On the first day, the seven leaders listened attentively to reports by Howe and the Eminent Persons Group, a body headed by former Australian Prime Minister Malcolm Fraser and General Olusegun Obasanjo, the former Nigerian head of state, which was appointed by the Commonwealth last year to study the South African dilemma. Most of the leaders present were struck by the degree to which Howe agreed with the group. Kaunda, who had publicly criticized Howe during his African mission, praised the Foreign Secretary's remarks as "simply fantastic."

Next day the group got down to hard work. Thatcher repeated her view that sanctions were "immoral" and impractical. But then, in the interests of Commonwealth solidarity, she offered her modest concessions. Though her proposals did not amount to much, and indeed were not supposed to, they did represent a policy change of sorts. Thatcher balked at any tougher measures, like a ban on air links with South Africa; the London-Johannesburg route is a highly lucrative one for government-owned British Airways. When she turned down Hawke on a boycott of South African farm products, the Australian sputtered, "I'm all for unity, but if it's a question of unity or credibility, I'll go for credibility."

By Monday night it was clear that the two sides were still far apart, and the leaders returned to the conference room at 9 p.m. to put the finishing touches on their communique. All but Thatcher stated their support for the stronger package of sanctions and expressed "concern and regret" that Britain had not agreed. At a midnight press conference, Thatcher called the summit result "reasonable for all concerned." Her Commonwealth colleagues were less effusive. Said Gandhi: "It's not the Commonwealth that loses; Britain loses. It is not leading anymore." Pindling likened Thatcher's stance to that of a would-be rescuer who waits for the victim to drown before throwing a lifeline. Mugabe professed himself "utterly dismayed." Nonetheless, Thatcher had managed once again to buy a little more time, averting the immediate threat to the Commonwealth and forestalling any need to make a final decision on sanctions, at least until the meeting of European foreign ministers in mid-September. By that time the full extent of Pretoria's measures against Zambia, Zimbabwe and other African states should be clearer.

Since colonial times the commerce and transport of South Africa and its black neighbors have been closely interwoven. In fact, as Pik Botha was quick to emphasize, even while Mugabe was speaking out against Pretoria at the London meeting, Zimbabwe was negotiating to extend its existing trade agreement with South Africa. Over the long term the black states can reduce their dependence on the South African ports of Durban and Port Elizabeth by developing alternative trade routes, like the existing but inadequate highway and rail line between Zambia and the Tanzanian port of Dar es Salaam. Zimbabwe will begin to divert freight from South Africa to Mozambique over roads and rail lines that are frequently sabotaged by Mozambican rebels supported from inside South Africa. But for the moment Pretoria's black neighbors are exceedingly vulnerable.

In Washington the White House denounced the South African action as "counterproductive" and "polarizing." The Administration was still trying to delay congressional action on sanctions, at least until after the European Community's September meeting. In the meantime, having previously suggested that it was thinking of sending a black Ambassador to Pretoria, Washington was embarrassed last week when a second reported candidate, Ambassador to Denmark Terence Todman, said he did not want the job.

Less than a month after North Carolina Businessman Robert J. Brown removed himself from consideration, Todman, a native of the U.S. Virgin Islands who has held five ambassadorial posts, said in Copenhagen that he did not believe anyone should be appointed to succeed retiring Ambassador Herman Nickel until the U.S. has a "policy that finds credibility with the South Africans . . . and the rest of the world." A day later the State Department contended that Todman had not meant to criticize U.S. policy and had been quoted "out of context." In any event he obviously had no wish to take on the probably thankless assignment in Pretoria.

Black South Africans who reject sanctions, like Zulu Chief Mangosuthu Buthelezi, are finding their position increasingly difficult. Last week he denounced President Botha's confrontational "Boer War diplomacy" and warned of a "time when the government's actions (will) demand that I revise my & position." This week Botha will address an important federal congress of his ruling National Party in Durban. Speaking in the same city last year, Botha gravely disappointed Western governments by failing to include in his address a list of widely anticipated racial reforms. This year Botha was simply expected to hang tough, and so there was little hope that he would say anything encouraging about releasing Nelson Mandela or negotiating with black leaders. On the contrary, as his government moves toward stricter controls and security measures, the prospect is for less flexibility than there was before -- and there was never very much.

With reporting by Peter Hawthorne/Johannesburg and Christopher Ogden/London