AS the country celebrates 35 years of hard-won independence, it is important to reflect on how white Rhodesians reacted prior to surrendering power to black majority rule.
Years prior to the attainment of Zimbabwe’s independence, Rhodesians knew they were losing, but were hopeful that by some luck they would still rule.
According to Peter Moorecraft in his book, A short One Thousand Years, the price Rhodesians paid was obvious: they did not know what was going on in their own country let alone what was really happening in the world.
Whites in Rhodesia were suffering from what psychologists call ‘cognitive dissonance’, a false perception of reality.
First, the Rhodesians were led to believe that in fact there was no war.
When it became obvious in 1972 that freedom fighters were infiltrating on a large scale, it was admitted that there was a war, but it was on the point of being won.
It was always a case of nearly; when the internal government was set up in 1978, the ceasefire was just around the corner; and, as the majority rule elections approached, the Rhodesians ‘ recognition’ was always imminent.
Victory was always at hand for the Rhodesians.
Even after the Kissinger initiative, many whites still believed that they could win the war and maintain settler control.
As with the Germans in the dark days of late 1944, Rhodesians could still give some credibility to the concept of an endeseig, (a final triumph).
This again was cognitive dissonance.
When military victory over the guerillas appeared to be slipping from their grasp, Rhodesians looked to foreign or even divine intervention.
If the Tories won in Britain, perhaps they would help.
Perhaps Carter would suffer his own Watergate and be sacked.
Perhaps Jonas Savimbi would beat MPLA in Angola.
Perhaps Samora Machel would be overthrown in Mozambique.
Perhaps Kapwepwe would oust Kaunda.
Perhaps this Perhaps that.
The Rhodesian Front used the media to terrorise the Rhodesians into accepting that any criticism of the government was tantamount to treason, but by putting patriotism above perception, Rhodesians bedevilled their own campaign.
White Rhodesians did not identify themselves with South Africa’s Afrikaaners; they were of British stock.
But they could not identify with post-war Britain either; they saw themselves as the real Britons, the ones who clobbered the Kaiser and Hitler.
Many members of the Conservative Party supported this claim.
However, such were views before Rhodesia descended into a fully fledged war that led to independence of the black majority rule.
White Rhodesians looked upon the former motherland and despaired.
Perhaps the bitterness that they had for Britain could be explained not only by the inept handling of the colony by London, but also by psychological need to stress the wickedness of a ‘changed’ Britain.
Ex-Britons had to excuse the rejection of their own people, but what did Rhodesians think of themselves?
A Mrs Knight of Salisbury wrote a poignant letter to Rhodesia’s Sunday Mail of November 21 1976.
She said: “I am Rhodesian born.
“This is my country.
“Here I stay.
“Let every whiteman and woman stay firmly put.
“This is why we will keep Rhodesia.
“Those who run away will find trouble wherever they go, some of it much worse than ours.
“At least in Rhodesia one can rely upon one’s fellow man.
“In Rhodesia we still have men who give their lives for the safety of their women and children.
“Here we have people who work together for the good of all.
“Here we have an education system and medical facilities envied by the rest of the world.
“Here we have peace-loving people to share with.
“This many-splendoured country is the place for us Rhodesians to stay together. “Here we can’t lose.”
As years went by, many Rhodesians began to see reality and disagreed with this idyllic picture.
Eighteen months later, on July 25 1978, The Herald printed a letter from one E. Conway.
It read: “What makes a true Rhodesian?
“He blindly follows, he gullibly believes, he patiently suffers.
“Should he resent or dare to express a different opinion, he is un-Rhodesian.
“He must accept every word uttered by Ian Smith and all his ministers.
“He must remain in Rhodesia, fight for Rhodesia, pay for Rhodesia and become a political and financial prisoner.”
Mrs Diana Mitchell, a prominent liberal, attempted to balance the extreme views on Rhodesia.
She tried to answer the question asked by many whites: “Why aren’t the blacks more grateful for all the things we have done for them?
“Rhodesia would be a desert full of howling savages if the whiteman had not brought civilasation.”
Mrs Mitchell answered with one phrase: Black humiliation.
In a letter to the Rhodesia Herald she wrote: “Can we not agree that we have all been wrong-the Ndebele were improvident and cruel, the Shona too submissive, and whites needlessly oppressive.”
When the legal aspects of discrimination had been fully abolished in 1979, the heavens did not suddenly cave in.
The whites were concerned about the high standards of education and medical services and their instinctive reaction was to opt for more highly priced medical aid societies and private or ‘community schools’.
Money, not colour, became the criterion for privilege.
The tightly-knit white community opened up a little, especially in the cities. Rhodesia was in some way a tale of two cities; one of which, Bulawayo had long been partly comatose.
Rhodesian society was still intensely parochial.
Rhodesians understood little of the modern world and disliked the little bits they did understand.
Because of its small size, white society was largely classless and eccentric.
Some of the whites even tried to learn Shona or Ndebele.
Every morning around 8am, a local building society sponsored ‘language clinics’. Strangely, at a time of transition to black rule, some lessons informed the white listener how, in Shona or Ndebele, to tell his black servant to cut the lawn, fetch the meat or wash the car.
As black rule became imminent, many whites looked back at the tragedies of war. Power was passing from their hands.
They knew that no ruling class had ever given up power without a struggle, especially to what they perceived a less educated and overwhelming majority. They were losing the right to control their affairs.
By 1979 the fear of a large-scale white popular backlash had passed.
Smith had always underestimated this danger.
The mood was one of sorrow and resignation rather than anger and there was a bruised pride for having survived so long.
Many whites, however, did not resign themselves to black rule, some immediately went out.
Other Rhodesian whites were concerned with more interesting mementoes than bones.
In the last days of white rule, the nostalgia industry boomed.
Rhodesian flags, pens made out of cartridges, UDI beer mugs and pictures of Ian Smith were snapped up.
Some bought souvenirs to remind them of the Rhodesia that was, in cold Britain they would reminisce about the spacious homes and big cars that they had in the tropical Cheltenham that was Salisbury.
The whites had fought to preserve white influence yet the war and its aftermath seemed set to drown the remnants of white authority.