Questionable Allies: British Collaboration with Apartheid South Africa, 1960–90

Abstract From 1960, as the horrors of the apartheid system in South Africa were steadily revealed to the world, the international community turned against a country once seen as a bastion of peace and prosperity on the African continent. The United Nations debated the imposition of comprehensive sanctions against South Africa, yet the USA, France, and Britain stood against such a drastic measure. Though the levers of government would change hands between Labour and Conservative Prime Ministers, Britain’s policy in opposing sanctions against South Africa from 1960 to the final fall of apartheid in 1994 would steadfastly remain. This article deploys archival material to examine the motivations behind this British policy, and highlights three key factors: anxiety about the potential impact of sanctions on Britain itself; the context of the global Cold War; and British aversion to what were perceived as the ANC’s ‘terrorist’ actions. These were the motivations behind Britain’s continued trade and collaboration with South Africa throughout the period of apartheid. The archival sources dealing with the background to this policy starkly reveal the darker legacies of colonialism that continued to shape British policies and the attitudes of those at the highest levels of British government over these years.

the vote but obtaining a majority of seats in the South African parliament, the National Party elaborated and refined the system of social and economic segregation that had existed to varying degrees in South Africa since the mid-nineteenth century. 3elevating and protecting whites, especially Afrikaners, apartheid subjected the majority black population to poor living conditions and restricted their opportunities for education, employment, and advancement.The apartheid state was undemocratic, intensely stratified, and institutionally racist: and it came into being over a period in which the rise of African nationalism saw self-determination, racial equality, and black majority rule emerge across the African continent.By 1960, South Africa already stood as a state apart -and by 1980 it would be the final redoubt of white supremacy in the African continent.
As the consequences of apartheid policy became manifest in the early 1960s, the United Nations moved to express its opposition.In 1962, a General Assembly resolution was adopted which called upon member states to exercise economic sanctions against South Africa; in 1966, a voluntary arms embargo was voted through. 4Both the United States and the United Kingdom used their Security Council veto to significantly limit the scope of these sanctions, and the impact they could have.Despite the fact that these two nations each had a long history of implementing economic sanctions against offending nations, they argued that such measures should not be used against South Africa.Instead, it was their ambition to encourage change through 'peaceful … negotiation' , by 'prodding the South Africans in what seems to be the most sensible direction' . 5This 'constructive' policy would have no discernible impact on apartheid, yet would be maintained by Britain over almost thirty years of continued Afrikaner Nationalist rule and black subjugation.
This article will explore the reasons behind Britain's refusal to impose wide-ranging sanctions against South Africa, despite increasing pressure from the international community.Utilising materials from the UK's National Archives, it will pinpoint three aspects of policy which dominated the British mind-set across this period in relation to South Africa, explaining the country's unique stance on the international stage, since even the US finally imposed sanctions in 1986.First, British anxieties about the potential loss of trade and jobs continually thwarted the implementation of sanctions.Second, fears of Soviet influence in southern Africa played a major role.And thirdly, in considerations of South Africa's future, the seeming 'terrorist' and communist tendencies of the African National Congress (ANC) led to a reluctance to interact with the organisation in any way.
To date, this is an area that has not been studied in great depth.hyam and henshaw survey British-South African relations in this period, but their study is limited to popular, rather than governmental perceptions. 6Pierri and others have examined how the British government interacted with South Africa in the context of the Cold War and the Soviet threat of the late 60s and early 70s, but these studies are not primarily concerned with the policy on sanctions.Other historians have looked at specific aspects of Britain's attitude towards South Africa in this period: Llewellyn, Rider and Ivey have written about sport; howe and Ingram have examined the impact upon Britain's relationship with the Commonwealth; while Thomas and ellis have considered interactions with the ANC. 7Davies' study of constructive engagement stands apart as a detailed and insightful account of US policy, but we have nothing comparable to date on British policy. 8his article provides that British perspective.By first surveying the official reasons the British government gave for their anti-sanctions stance across the thirty years, the discussion will investigate the verifiability of these public claims.The archival sources will show that fears about the impact of sanctions on South Africa's black population are in fact doubtful, with concerns rather coalescing around a loss of British jobs.The article then moves to an overview of the Cold War context, in which South Africa was seen as a Western bastion, before closing with an analysis of Britain's relations with the ANC, and the impact this had on their stance, in the face of the subjection of millions of black South Africans to racially-motivated discrimination and injustice.The archival materials to be reviewed here start with the Sharpeville Massacre of March 1960, as this was the event that revealed to the world the abuses of the apartheid regime, leading directly to initial discussions at the UN about sanctions.Britain's relationship with South Africa continued with relatively few alterations from 1960 through the 1976 Soweto uprising, and into the states of emergency of the 1980s, right up to 1990.Only then, with the release of Nelson Mandela, did the British come to view the end of apartheid as inevitable.'There's no point in arguing': British policy on sanctions 9 Across the period, British ministers of all parties, and civil servants, consistently restated their 'determination to promote majority rule' , and their rejection of 'prolonged violence' in South Africa. 10At times, more explicit and even antagonistic words were used, such as the expression of 'abhorrence' for the apartheid system.however, at no point did the government actually suggest how this abhorrence and determination would translate into real change. 11Indeed, in 1970, a civil servant clearly outlined the lack of substance behind the official rhetoric, commenting that there was 'no point in arguing with the South African Government about their policy of apartheid' . 12y the 1980s, the British were forced to shift their policy to a degree, under both internal and international pressure.The 1976 Soweto uprising had raised the political temperature within South Africa, and far from promoting a conciliatory response on the part of the South African government (SAG), the apartheid state had closed ranks and strengthened its resolve against this internal revolt.By 1988, as the archive shows, Geoffrey howe, then British Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, declared that Britain would 'use all the advocacy at our disposal to persuade the [SAG] of the need for fundamental political change' . 13In the British government's eyes, their adverse stance on sanctions now strengthened their hand: as they had been more lenient towards South Africa, the SAG was 'looking to Britain as the main partner in any future dialogue' to promote change. 14This 'dialogue' manifested itself in the state visit by South African President P.W. Botha to Britain in 1984, as the first South African President to be received on British soil since 1961.
This period was accompanied by a regular exchange of letters between Botha and the British Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher.In these letters, Thatcher once again affirmed her 'total opposition to the system of apartheid' .She wrote that 'I want to see it peacefully ended' , and encouraged 'further progress with reform in South Africa' . 15At the same time, however, she said that she wished to 'refrain from any action that could be misrepresented in any way as putting public pressure on you or seeking to prescribe the changes that need to be made' . 16The dialogue bore the stamp of Britain's official declarations of opposition to apartheid, even as it reflected what was, in essence, an unchanged policy -despite the lack of any real response on the part of South Africa.
At times, the late 1970s policy documents in the Archives make propositions about a future without apartheid, including a South African homelands policy which is even seen as the 'best eventual solution' , catering to the whites as the 'only possible way of survival for them as a separate entity' . 17This extraordinary suggestion of a 'solution' through the creation of a white homeland, or semi-colony, was offered in the face of the acknowledged black South African aim of 'one man, one vote' in a 'unitary state' .It reflects back to the 'Bantustans' policy, instituted by the Bantu Authorities Act of 1951, which divided South Africa into a number of black 'homelands' , prioritising white landholdings and squeezing the black majority into small, restricted areas under undemocratic, 'tribal' governments.The policy was inevitably opposed by the ANC from its outset. 18Understandably, therefore, this British suggestion of support for the homeland idea was accompanied by the warning that '[we] must be careful with both what we say in public and what we do' . 19This suggestion, however, was never transmitted to the SAG.Instead, 'dialogue' and the restating of moral opposition to the apartheid system, were constantly emphasised as the best means of promoting change.Any aid and development programmes for black South Africans in the period, such as the £1,000,000 provided in 1985-6, were extremely limited when compared to those offered to other countries.The fact that these programmes were channelled through the SAG also formed a point of concern. 20t an international level, economic sanctions dominated discourse on South Africa throughout the period, as sanctions were seen as the only way external forces could express opposition and bring about change in the country.As early as 1963, Albert Luthuli, the leader of the ANC and 1960 Nobel Peace prize-winner, argued that economic ostracism 'represents our only real chance of a relatively peaceful transition from the present unacceptable type of rule to a system of government which gives us all our rightful voice' . 21yet any measures suggested for implementation at the UN were limited in their scope by the US and British, the latter questioning even those measures that were enforced.Britain also 'continued to supply South Africa with a very considerable amount of military equipment which, in our opinion, fell outside the terms of that [1966 UN arms] embargo' . 22Furthermore, as Llewellyn and Rider examine, in the case of Zola Budd (the South African runner who was permitted to compete under the British flag at the 1984 Olympics), the British deliberately contravened the 1977 Gleneagles Agreement, which had ended all Commonwealth sporting contact with South Africa. 23n 1986, arguments concerning specific economic sanctions reached a height.In August 1985, many had expected Botha to announce his 'Manifesto for a New South Africa' , with foreign governments alerted to the 'momentous significance of the impending announcements' .Britain hoped these 'announcements' would be a vindication of their anti-sanctions policy.Instead, however, Botha took the opportunity to reaffirm that South Africa was a 'country of minorities' , blaming those who had 'put words in my mouth in advance' . 24Across 1986-7, Botha did make some reforms, such as putting an end to the pass laws, and introducing black political 'advisory' councils.But the British realised that these changes were largely 'cosmetic' and did not respond in real terms to black demands. 25he reaction to this lack of reform from the international community was, dramatic.The view now existed that 'all else has failed'; therefore, states that continued to oppose sanctions were 'friends of apartheid' .Britain's continued resistance to sanctions, and on-going descriptions of Botha as the 'best white leader we are likely to get' , was seen, even by a 'pro-Western and moderate' country such as the Bahamas, as being 'in sympathy with the South African whites' . 26In the Commonwealth especially, Britain was increasingly isolated.As Ingram demonstrates, Margaret Thatcher's particular refusal to consider even limited compromise measures meant that, in 1986, 'for the first time the cherished Commonwealth tradition of consensus was broken' . 27Thatcher's position on race, and matters pertaining to Britain's colonial past and postcolonial future had always been decidedly ambivalent.Certainly, Geoffrey howe, the Foreign Secretary for nearly two terms of Thatcher's Prime Ministership, regarded her statement on Britain's cities being 'swamped' by 'coloured immigrants' as being representative of her views on race. 28Moore additionally notes that Thatcher's husband, Denis, had 'personal sympathies' and business links with white South Africa, calling it 'God's own country' . 29yet a wider and more general British apathy that went beyond government and pervaded the civil service is also evident from the archives, an attitude marked by continuing discrimination and highhandedness towards Britain's former colonies.Those opposing government views are accused, for example, of 'ignorance' and 'lacking the sophistication' to comprehend British policy. 30n this context, is it possible to explain why, in the face of international condemnation, Britain remained so committed to an anti-sanctions policy, no matter how much it jeopardised their world position?A January 1986 policy document sets out three primary reasons for the policy, namely: the proclaimed 'ineffectiveness' of sanctions in achieving 'political interests'; the fact that they were 'damaging to blacks [and] … South Africa's neighbours'; and the harm to British interests. 31It is worth assessing each of these explanations in turn, to gauge in what ways they provided reasons for British intransigence on sanctions, and whether they may also have given a cover for Britain's more covert interests in the region.
The first reason, the ineffectiveness of sanctions for promoting political change, was seen by the British as the 'best argument to use' in explaining their policy to the world. 32They underlined the Rhodesia example, where sanctions, a 'very blunt instrument' , had 'failed to have the intended effect' , with 'side effects on others which are often more severe than those on their intended target' . 33This then related to the view that if sanctions were imposed, 'Afrikaner psychology' meant that apartheid would become further entrenched-a view that Sir Patrick Moberly, Britain's Ambassador to South Africa, particularly advocated. 34Moreover, the South Africans had prepared for sanctions to the point that they were equipped to deal with them 'on whatever scale' . 35oberly argued that the sanctions imposed by other countries 'have not worked': even the comprehensive measures imposed by the US Congress, in defiance of President Reagan's veto, had been counter-productive.Indeed, they had undermined US influence in South Africa. 36hether the sanctions imposed up to this point had in fact 'not worked' , rather entrenching the apartheid state, was not clear, however, and remains a subject for debate in the historiography.In the case of Rhodesia, the effectiveness of sanctions is also a moot point, and by no means a clear-cut failure.In the immediate aftermath of their imposition in 1965, they were regarded as a mistake, because harold Wilson's objective of subsequently bringing down Ian Smith's government in 'weeks, not months' , was not achieved. 37Others have argued more recently that British sanctions in particular were ineffective, as they were 'primarily imposed to disperse international calls for a more forceful response to the Rhodesian rebellion, ' an approach that led to frequent breaches. 38his view, though, is not universally held, with some historians arguing that the role of sanctions in restricting the country's 'ability to raise long-term credit on international capital' was a major factor in bringing Smith to the negotiating table. 39For example, white businessmen in the newly independent Zimbabwe observed that sanctions were important in the long-term and would by themselves 'sooner or later have forced a political decision' . 40Indeed, hufbauer, Schott, and elliot's metrics for assessing the relative success of economic sanctions post-1945, award the Rhodesian case a score of 12/16. 41An identical score is given to the effectiveness of Britain's 1982 sanctions against Argentina at the time of the Falklands War. 42The history of effectively implementing sanctions clearly went against the argument that they had not worked in the past.
In the specific case of South Africa, the argument that international pressure and limited UN sanctions had not worked certainly was debatable.Sanctions had begun to be implemented by the UN in 1962, when diplomatic ties were cut and arms shipments banned, initially on a voluntary basis.More wide-ranging and mandatory measures were enforced in 1977. 43Although further sanctions and other economic measures, including oil exports, were consistently vetoed by the US, the UK, and France, hayes argues that, by 1985 and 1986, the sanctions that were in place 'began to have serious effects' in the form of GDP stagnation. 44Already as far back as the early 1970s, the South African economy had started to decline.By the late 1970s and early 1980s, a combination of the falling price of gold (the central pillar of the apartheid economy), a worldwide surge in the price of oil after the crisis imposed by OAPeC's embargo and the 1979 Iranian Revolution, and the endemic labour problems caused by the institution of apartheid, produced a severe economic downturn. 45Labour difficulties were especially exacerbated by the increasingly organised and widespread strikes and protests that marked this period, which at times severely disrupted industry. 46There was also unrest created first by the consequences of the 1974 Carnation Revolution in the former Portuguese colonies of Angola and Mozambique, and then by the independence of Zimbabwe in 1980.The South African Border War escalated, ramping up conscription, which drew economically active and skilled white South African males away from the labour force. 47ny sanctions would therefore impact an already volatile situation.Financial sanctions in particular led to a net outflow of capital, the loss of investor trust, and, from 1985, a destructive debt crisis. 48oorsom goes so far as to suggest that there may have been even wider scope for sanctions, as restrictions to the oil-supply and gold exports could potentially bring the South African economy further to its knees. 49This ran contrary to Britain's claim that the South African government was effectively prepared for anything.even with continuing British investment, by the mid-1980s sanctions had started to play a role in undermining the stability of the South African economy.
The British government also foregrounded the negative psychological effects that sanctions could have on a target country.yet hufbauer, Schott and elliott have noted how sanctions are historically often more a 'demonstration of resolve' , rather than a full-scale attempt to economically destroy a country. 50By underlining the international community's disapproval of a government's policies, sanctions can lead citizens within that country to question their government's legitimacy, and push for change.In the South African context, this was unquestionably the case.harvey shows that sanctions had 'an immense impact in changing white opinion in South Africa' , to the extent that, by 1986, South African business leaders had begun negotiating with the ANC. 51Such realities cannot have been unknown to the British-a fact which suggests that their true motivation in so determinedly and unwaveringly opposing sanctions must have lain elsewhere.
This then raises the second reason the British gave for opposing sanctions-their potentially damaging impact on the black South African population, and the so-called Front Line States (FLS), a point on which Thatcher was particularly adamant.economic sanctions, her government argued, would lead to increased numbers of black South Africans being laid off, with the effect of increasing poverty and hardship.Meanwhile, potential South African counter-measures against the FLS would, it was believed, significantly worsen their economic situation, since they were variously dependent on South Africa.Thatcher used this argument to take the moral high-ground, stating that sanctions were 'damaging to those we were allegedly trying to help' , putting 100-200,000 non-white jobs at risk.She recognised, however, that this position would 'cut little ice with those determined on gestures' . 52he British government's idea that sanctions would adversely impact blacks more than whites was, once again, fiercely contested at the time.In their analysis of the impact of sanctions, Khan and Plaza argue that black South Africans were already so economically depressed that, in fact, workers' 'very low economic status will make the impact of sanctions much less pronounced' .Wide-ranging sanctions would cause them to lose cumulatively only 23.3% of what the white population would lose. 53Moreover, British commentators' views registered in the archives recognised that black South Africans were 'suffering enough already' , and hence would be 'willing to make the sacrifice' .Besides, it was 'not for us [the British] to say that they should not' . 54he FLS, and particularly Kenneth Kaunda of Zambia, also confirmed that they would be 'willing to make the necessary sacrifices' . 55To counter the clamour, the British pointed to the 'reasonable' , 'moderate' case of the Zulu Chief Gatsha Buthelezi as a lone voice determinedly opposed to sanctions.Indeed, the claim was, the limited sanctions in place were adversely affecting his attempts at improving industry and the standard of living in the KwaZulu homeland already. 56For those holding such opinions, Buthelezi was the South African politician most worthy of western support.his advocacy of an anti-sanctions line meant that he was the only South African to have audiences with every US President from Nixon to Reagan.To Thatcher he was a natural ally, a Burkean conservative and a 'stalwart opponent of violent uprising in South Africa while the ANC had been endorsing Marxist Revolution' , and 'utopianism' . 57By contrast, many black South Africans viewed Buthelezi as a means through which the Nationalist government was able to stoke violence in the townships between his Inkatha Freedom Party and United Democratic Front (UDF) supporters. 58he ANC and UDF opposition to Buthelezi exposes the extent to which the British government's bid for the moral high ground on sanctions entailed a claim to understand African conditions better than Africans themselves, and to make economic decisions on their behalf.
The third, perhaps most plausible justification for opposing sanctions that the documentation reflects rests on Britain's strong economic links to South Africa, its former colony, links which the country could not afford to lose.This theme emerges throughout the British government's correspondence.Indeed, by 1986, government officials went so far as to question whether they should 'do less to disguise' these 'selfish' interests -something that implicitly suggests their primary importance among the factors already outlined. 59Alongside the deep-seated colonial connection, these economic interests were further embedded by the fact of South Africa's mineral wealth.Outside the Communist sphere of influence, the country was the world's largest supplier of valuable metals such as vanadium, platinum, and gold.By 1981, reciprocal trade between Britain and South Africa was valued at £1.7 billion. 60The shaping effects of economic interdependence with South Africa extended more widely than Britain alone, as reflected in a memorandum of the 1979 meeting of 'the Five' (Britain, the USA, France, West Germany, and Canada) to discuss the west's policy on economic sanctions.'Major Western economic interests in South Africa' topped the agenda in the discussion of whether sanctions should be imposed, with the meeting noting that, between the Five, an estimated 215,000 local jobs would be at risk. 61Britain, in particular, stood to lose around 60,000 jobs, although at one point a considerably higher figure was proposed: 'estimates of final unemployment caused by sanctions range anywhere up to 215,000' . 62espite the commitment between the Five that they should agree on 'a programme of long-term disengagement from dependence on South African business and trade' , this does not seem to have been implemented especially quickly. 63In 1984, the value of UK exports to South Africa alone was estimated at £1210 million per year. 64As was recognised in the Trade Association's assessment of the value of trade between the two nations, it remained 'extremely important and … in both countries' interests that they be strong, both politically and economically' , while substantial pressure was also imposed by non-governmental British business interests in advocating against sanctions. 65Simply put, imposing sanctions against South Africa would compromise profits from trade, and consequently have a major impact on unemployment at home.In the context of the 1984-5 miners' strike, this care for British jobs on the part of the Thatcher government seems deeply ironic, as unemployment across her first years in office doubled from 1.5 million in 1979 to just over 3 million in 1985.yet it also highlights the serious political impact that further unemployment would have had. 66he importance of the potential trade impact is admittedly qualified to an extent, through Britain's countervailing concern that 'black Africa' might impose economic and trade sanctions in return for Britain's support of apartheid South Africa.Britain's stance on sanctions had certainly incurred the wrath of many Commonwealth partners on the continent, and the threat of sanctions against Britain itself was real.Assessments were made as to the relative value of trade with 'black Africa' , as opposed to South Africa.British exports to 'black Africa' were valued at £4.25 billion in 1977, as opposed to £1 billion to South Africa, while the former's value in providing important minerals such as cobalt and germanium was also emphasised. 67These fears of potential losses were largely ignored, however, and British policy continued unchanged.Despite the higher valuation of trade with the rest of Africa, economic transactions with South Africa were promoted as more important, which once again suggests that British interests other than the purely economic were in play.
Interestingly, the differences of opinion on the efficiency or otherwise of sanctions and their adverse impact on black South Africans continued more or less unchangingly across the thirty years in focus.Across this period, there were seven Prime Ministers, two Labour (Callaghan, and Wilson, twice), and five Conservative (Macmillan, Douglas-home, heath, Thatcher and Major).yet, despite the obvious ideological differences between these leaders, foreign policy towards South Africa remained consistent.Documents that weigh the various supporting arguments against sanctions often span the terms of different Prime Ministers, with the discourse making no notable shift.In the realm of foreign policy, it is clear that external affairs were as much in the hands of the civil service as of politicians.

'They could strike at any time' -the Soviet Union in Southern Africa
In the second half of the twentieth century, Cold War hostilities heavily impacted international relations, conditioning 'actions, reactions, interactions and outcomes' . 68As Saunders has explained, the Cold War played a particularly pivotal role in Africa as a secondary arena of conflict, often 'shaping' the political form that newly independent postcolonial states would take. 69As the United States and the Soviet Union spent vast sums manoeuvring for political and economic influence, it was inevitable that South Africa would be drawn into the fray.A one-time British dominion, the republic was now positioned as a capitalist bastion on the sub-continent.The Afrikaner Nationalist government exploited the polarized international scene by launching a 'large-scale propaganda exercise' promoting the country as a defender of western values in a restless and potentially socialist southern Africa. 70The United States and the United Kingdom were ideologically receptive to this campaign.
The US in particular saw South Africa as a useful ally, ignoring the atrocities of the apartheid state in favour of working to strengthen South Africa's international position.van Wyk demonstrates that the US had a particularly 'long-standing relationship with South Africa in nuclear development' , which involved supporting the expensive South African campaign to 'deter' the Soviets with nuclear weapons, although poverty was rife. 71even in the dying days of the apartheid regime, the US policy of constructive engagement was defended 'in the context of the east-West struggle' , as a mode of battling the Soviet Union's 'evil empire' , as Reagan put it. 72The anti-communist Reagan doctrine profoundly shaped United States foreign policy, as well as Britain's.As Gaddis observes, Britain was determined to weather the late 20 th -century economic stand-off with the Soviets, 'even if this meant relinquishing leadership of the Anglo-American coalition to Washington' . 73n the Cold War context, Britain clearly perceived that its national interest entailed supporting the United States' leadership of the 'free world' unconditionally.In 1948, Britain had been a founding member of the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO), created to oppose Soviet aggression.Subsequently, as Northedge and Wells underline, Britain probably did 'more than any other country to rescue the alliance when [it was] threatened with disruption' . 74More than 20 years later, by 1969, Britain's self-perception as a pillar of western democracy, reinforced by the political and ideological need to align with the US, moulded its approach to the extent that any thought even on the Left of sympathising with the Soviet cause had 'virtually disappeared' . 75The Labour Party was as committed to opposing the Soviet threat as their Conservative counterparts.This is reflected in the 1955 Simonstown Agreement between the United Kingdom and South Africa.Simonstown laid down that the British navy could use South African naval facilities at the titular base, in exchange for committing to the expansion of the South African navy.By the late 1960s, this Agreement had come under increasing scrutiny inside British government circles, due to international criticism of the apartheid regime following Sharpeville.It was recognised that South Africa was using the accord as a means to manage and mitigate their 'political isolation' . 76et, even so, harold Wilson's Labour government consistently underscored Simonstown's 'considerable importance' and utility. 77In the Cold War context, South Africa's 'pro-Western and anti-Communist orientation' meant that, certainly for Britain, it stood as a bulwark against the supposed Soviet threat (even if its economy, marked by a significant degree of state control, was not purely capitalistic). 78The two states would also engage in 'Joint Maritime War Planning' . 79onsequently, Britain was able to maintain surveillance over the Cape sea-route, which was viewed as essential for withstanding the potential Soviet harassment of merchant and shipping vessels.Throughout the archival documentation, intense anxiety and even paranoia is expressed about this threat, as, after Suez, 27% of British trade came past the Cape, and 34% of western europe's oil-more trade than on any other passage on the planet. 80Should South Africa fall into the wrong hands, the impact would be cataclysmic, and the safety of British trading vessels compromised.
The closure of the Suez Canal following the 1956 Crisis is especially important for understanding the British mind-set in relation to the Cape route.The nationalisation of the Canal, and subsequent invasion of egypt by British, French and Israeli forces, was the first time that the Cold War was 'used to gain leverage over imperialists' , as Byrne explains. 81In the wake of his rise to power and the subsequent invasion, General Abdel Nasser, egypt's insurgent ruler, had not only severely hindered British trade through the Canal, but also sought support and security from the Soviet Union, a course of events that, it was feared, might be replicated across a turbulent non-aligned world. 82y 1970 therefore, Britain was happy to ensure its trading future by strengthening relations with the South African government.Though the Foreign Office seems to have seen evidence of the potential Soviet threat as 'pretty thin' , the military, in particular, feared that the Soviets could threaten British ships 'at any time' . 83That the British government eventually came to back the military view, supporting the continuing utility of the Simonstown Agreement, and arguing that it should not be broken in the short-term, underlines the intensity of Cold War fears.There were even proposals for bringing South Africa into the NATO codification system 'on a more formal basis' , which suggested some inclination to support South Africa's further campaign to join the organization. 84In 1970, therefore, even as the British government expressed its 'total opposition to the principle of apartheid' in public, behind the scenes they pursued strategic, pro-western interests as the lone means of safeguarding the future. 85In the period before the Portuguese Carnation Revolution, a British statement to Parliament saw 'no possibility of the Russians obtaining a military foothold in South Africa, Angola or Mozambique, while the present regimes in these countries remain in power' . 86he Simonstown Agreement ended in 1975 after twenty years, though this did not result in Britain's view of South Africa's immense 'strategic importance' dissipating significantly, even despite the fact that South Africa became more confrontational and defensive in relation to the 'Front-Line States' , especially following the independence of Angola and Mozambique post-1974.From the mid-1970s, the 'hawks' , as Miller describes them, led by President P.W. Botha, began to dominate the Nationalist government, taking over from the more moderate 'doves' , with John vorster at their head, who had sought to maintain apartheid through forging good relationships with other countries on the African continent. 87Botha's principle of force 'to destroy South Africa's enemies' led, initially, to the invasion of Angola by South African forces in 1975, and then the turn to 'total onslaught' , in 1978, when Botha became Prime Minister. 88he aggressive turn against supposedly 'Communist' forces, such as Agostino Neto's MPLA and SWAPO in Namibia, was, as Botha recognised, carried through with the full 'approval and knowledge of the Americans' , and appears to have been indirectly supported by the British as well. 89s Pfiser states, Botha's presentation of his 'total onslaught' policy was particularly 'successful' in gaining support from 'Conservative Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher' . 90Indeed, from 1980, there was growing advocacy in Parliament for further collaboration with South Africa against the Soviet threat (though this was largely from Conservative MPs -by the 1980s many Labour MPs had become members of the Anti-Apartheid Movement and supported sanctions). 91The supposed success of the country's military response led to calls, especially by Conservatives, for Britain to 're-establish relations with South Africa in respect of naval intelligence, access to South African ports, and the provision of security to the South African coastlines' , as a reward for their anti-Soviet actions in the sub-continent. 92Relatedly, in the later 1970s, the UK began to follow the UN arms embargo (which had been made mandatory in 1977) ever more loosely, recognising that the 'terms of the resolution are vague' . 93Prime Minister Thatcher leveraged this vagueness to order that 'dual purpose equipment' should be permitted to be sold, unless it was clear that 'it is required primarily for its military capability' .This flaunting of the UN regulations received a reprimand even from the US, which in other respects was aligned on policy towards South Africa.In reality, however, the threat of direct Soviet engagement in southern Africa was limited.Beyond donating weapons and training personnel, the USSR turned out to be extremely reluctant to involve itself. 94et, simultaneously, there were forces pulling in the opposite direction.In the Foreign Office, the recognition began to emerge that Britain might be wiser to begin to detach itself from South Africa.The Cape Route, a theme that so dominated British interests in the early 1970s, had diminished in importance, with realisation that the safety of the route could be assured without 'requiring the use of facilities in South Africa' .No Royal Navy ship entered a South African port after 1974. 95The fact that the west at times explicitly supported South African actions in the sub-continent ignited fears about 'other African states' moving to have a 'greater reliance on eastern europe' . 96An undesirable consequence of backing a capitalist and west-leaning South Africa might be to turn non-aligned countries against western ideology, which so clearly operated at the expense of justice for black South Africans.Officials were aware that other African states did have a 'strong case' against South Africa over economic sanctions due to its 'aggression in neighbouring countries' , and failure to enact 'real reform' . 97ut this modest Foreign Office opposition was barely registered in government.The Cold War continued to dominate the Thatcherite mind-set, even in the mid-to-late 1980s, as is evident from the response to a letter from Ramsay Melhuish, the British high Commissioner to Zimbabwe.In the context of disagreement between Britain's foreign missions and the Foreign Office in London about the practical details of South African policy, Melhuish, in a letter to London in March 1986, expressed his concern that Britain was associating itself too closely with America's Cold War policy in southern Africa.In his opinion, this alignment had been a failure, reflecting badly on British relations with black African states. 98Melhuish feared Britain was 'losing credibility' through this continued support for the US.Officials in London sternly dismissed his complaint, advocating further British support for US actions and a strengthening of the British position.Though it was already becoming clear by this point that the Soviet Union was losing both political ground and economic influence in the sub-continent, the Foreign Office continued to reiterate the position taken by Thatcher and the Tory right-wing. 99Thatcher even suggested sending aid to Jonas Savimbi and UNITA, the most pro-western of the warring sides in Angola, and supporting the US-led negotiations in Angola. 100longside the potential financial implications that economic sanctions had for Britain, it is therefore also clear that the still-polarised context of the Cold War shaped and strengthened the Thatcher government's support for South Africa.Britain's special relationship with the US as leader of the 'free world' , and related paranoia about Soviet threats in the African sub-continent, meant that South Africa's professed western values trumped concerns about apartheid policies.This was evident in the commitment to protecting British interests around the Cape of Good hope, which Britain presumed would not be guaranteed should the apartheid government be replaced by a 'Communist-sympathising' ANC.The Soviets' (and Cubans') 'direct' participation in one of the theatres of the Cold War, particularly in Angola, meant British support for South African actions was almost a reflex one.This was presumably the South African government's intention.The gamble was that, by presenting themselves as the lone bastion of western values in the south, they might be able to ensure 'ten to fifteen more years of apartheid' .Britain was seemingly content effectively to back this propaganda. 101

A 'typical terrorist organization' -Britain and the African National Congress
Britain's Cold War fears about the Communist threat in southern Africa extended to the group that had black majority support in South Africa, the African National Congress.As in egypt with the rise of Nasser, Britain feared the consequences of a 'radical' Communist-leaning group coming to power if the Afrikaner Nationalist government fell.In this their claims were not unfounded, as the ANC leadership had very real Communist links and operated in exile with Soviet support.
From its foundation in 1910, but especially after the 1950s Defiance Campaign and Treason Trials, the ANC was widely seen as the primary oppositional liberation movement in South Africa.Banned in the country under the 'Suppression of Communism Act' in 1960, it had based itself abroad in order to continue the struggle.It lobbied for international support, including by advocating sanctions against the apartheid government. 102The Pan-African Congress (PAC), which had split away from the ANC in the late 1950s on the grounds of its opposition to multi-racialism, was also an important oppositional group, but was soon undermined by factionalism.Banned like the ANC, the PAC 'failed to make an impact internationally' , in contrast to the success of the ANC in mounting a unified policy. 103As ellis and Thomas have also recognised, this unity certainly characterised the ANC's 'external mission' . 104Oliver Tambo's travels and frequent meetings with both non-governmental and governmental organisations around the world served to foreground the ANC's anti-apartheid mandate in both African and western minds.The South African government also played an unintentional role in boosting the ANC's legitimacy, as their obsession with the threat posed by its armed wing, Umkhonto we Sizwe (MK, 'Spear of the Nation'), allowed the movement to continue to play a psychologically significant role within South Africa. 105owever, even as the ANC's external mission gained credibility, Britain refused until 1986 to interact with the organization.As Thomas explains, this was due in large measure to its perceived links with the South African Communist Party (SACP), and the Soviet Union. 106As late as 1986, the British government asked their diplomat based in southern Africa, Margaret Walawaker, to produce a report on ANC links with Communism, and particularly the SACP.Up until this point, in line with their general pro-South Africa policy in the context of the Cold War, Britain had largely taken the South African Nationalist government's statements on the ANC's virulent Communism as gospel.As Major Craig Williamson later noted at the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, 'the South African security forces gave very little cognisance to the political motivation of the South African liberation movements, beyond regarding them as part and parcel of the Soviet onslaught against the "civilised/free/democratic Western world"' . 107This view practically mirrored Britain's position.yet, in the later 1980s, with the SAG's failure to reform, Britain was effectively forced to change its opinion, as Walawaker's report reflects.With growing signs that the apartheid state was coming under severe pressure, including through military setbacks in Angola, Britain wanted to assess for itself the extent to which the ANC, as the body that would potentially come to power if the Nationalist government fell, was linked to the SACP and the USSR.
Initially, Walawaker's 1986 report allows that the SACP still exerts a 'strong influence' over the ANC, with over half of the National executive Committee at some point having been members. 108The report also highlights the ANC's links with Moscow, underlining how 'three decades of "solidarity, " free holidays, medical treatment and political "education" have left their mark' . 109ut there is also the recognition that the influence of the SACP is 'diffuse': by 1986, there was no firm evidence of their 'dictating policy' . 110even if the Soviet Union did continue to have influence, in the age of glasnost and perestroika the emphasis had moved in favour of promoting a 'peaceful negotiated settlement' , in contrast to the ANC's former militant principles. 111he lack of evidence of real Soviet menace also reflects the important fact that the ANC had, by the mid-1980s, realised that to appeal to the broad base of western political opinion, they had to adjust and widen their economic and political outlook.ANC policy had previously been founded in the 1955 'Freedom Charter' , a radical document based on socialist values which set out how 'the national wealth of our country … shall be restored to the people'-an approach that naturally would not appeal to free-market capitalists. 112From 1985, there was a 'policy shift away from the ANC's traditional values' , as Padayachee and van Niekerk observe, one which laid down directives for a 'mixed' post-apartheid economy. 113The policy was also shrewdly intended to appeal to white South African businessmen, who had become increasingly disillusioned by the apartheid government's lack of reform and were beginning to make overtures to the ANC.
Walawaker's report is the first British document we see that casts doubt upon the extent to which Communism and the SACP actually had an influence over ANC policy.After the fall of the Soviet Union, ANC leaders such as Nelson Mandela and Oliver Tambo were understandably keen to distance themselves and their movement from the 'taint' of Communism, in order precisely to appeal to the west.In the 1950s, Mandela was extremely reluctant to even discuss SACP-ANC collaboration, while Tambo consistently maintained that the relationship with the Soviet Union was a marriage of convenience with the only major power willing to help the ANC at that time. 114ambo states that, in 1986, they were 'no more communist than they had been in 1921' . 115Recent but controversial scholarship, from ellis and Shubin for example, has disputed this, arguing in favour of deep and embedded links, with the SACP and the Soviet Union playing a significant role in directing ANC policy, especially around the formation of MK. 116 however, this shift towards the west in the 1980s appears to support Tambo's point, that the ANC's Soviet-leaning policy was forced by necessity: it was an appeal to a financial bloc of support without which they could not have maintained the armed struggle.With the decline of both the Soviet Union and the apartheid regime, ANC leaders realised that to gain acceptance from the west, policy needed noticeably to change.Or, as Walawaker concludes, 'the SACP is more dependent on the ANC than is the ANC on the SACP' . 117et, in spite of Walawaker's report, the ANC's links to Communism remained concerning to the British government even after 1986.Following initial contacts in the summer of that year, there was a hiatus in any direct British ministerial contact with the ANC, with its so-called 'radical' Communism used as a justification.Correspondence noted that 'the close relationship between the ANC and the SACP adds to the delicacy' of establishing connection. 118It was said, once again, that senior ANC officials' 'first real educational opportunity' was owed to 'the charity of the Soviet bloc' , despite Walawaker having comprehensively refuted claims of any deterministic influence. 119learly, the British government wished to maintain that the ANC were not the 'sole authentic' representatives of South Africa's black communities: this, of course, served to justify their dealings with 'moderates' such as Chief Buthelezi. 120At this point, as Thomas notes, a number of other western countries began to liaise with, and support, the ANC as part of the discussions about South Africa's future.Already from the mid-1970s, the Nordic countries and the Netherlands had given aid to the ANC, and after 1986, the US, West Germany and others began to engage in relatively frequent discussions. 121Unlike Britain, all these states recognised that the ANC was effectively black South Africa's 'sole authentic' representative.
In this light, Britain's refusal to take part in discussions with the ANC appears to relate not only to the political and ideological consequences of their potentially coming to power in the Cold War context, but also to the potential implications that interactions could have in the short-term on the domestic front.The root of this concern is exposed in Thatcher's infamous 1987 description of the ANC as a 'typical terrorist organization' . 122In other words, her government could not be seen to establish relations with an organization whose anti-colonial position and alleged militancy resembled that situation which Britain saw itself as confronting in Northern Ireland, in the form of the IRA.In some senses from her perspective, Thatcher's charge of 'terrorism' was correct, in that the ANC did indeed have an armed wing.Formed in 1961 in response to growing realisation within the ANC executive that, after thirty-nine years, peaceful protest had only deepened Afrikaner-nationalist refusal to change, MK was unquestionably an armed militia: yet should it be described as a 'terrorist' organisation? 123It had been formed as a body separate from the ANC in exile, and although MK did aim for all-out guerrilla warfare eventually, an extreme reluctance to turn to violence meant that attacks were at first limited to 'sabotage' of industrial areas, including electricity pylons. 124nd, as Lissoni observes, in the early years, after the ANC high command's incarceration, MK lacked proper leadership structures, and the 1960s were consequently marked by 'impasse' . 125The 1969 Morogoro conference produced a more coordinated plan, but attacks were still limited to non-civilian targets, and had minimal impact.In their early attempts at sabotage, it is reckoned that MK caused only an average of $125 of damage per attack, though the SAG's propaganda machine exaggerated the destruction caused far beyond its actual scope. 126It was not until the mid-1980s, at the time Britain was beginning to contemplate dialogue with the ANC, that MK expanded its targets, with Tambo calling for a 'people's war' . 127Britain was particularly condemnatory about the laying of land mines along South Africa's border areas. 128For their part, the ANC claimed that violent actions taken against civilians, such as the Amanzimtoti bombing, happened independently of their central command structure.Tambo repeatedly spelled out that MK's struggle was limited, forced by the paucity of international action to end apartheid -'what option did such moves leave the blacks?' 129 The ANC even expressed surprise at British condemnation, given that 'violence was an integral part of the repressive apartheid system' . 130or the British government, the ANC's commitment to armed struggle, no matter how justified, was conditioned by the situation in Northern Ireland.As Tambo himself stated, the British government was 'not anti-war' , but it was strongly 'against violence' , a result of the situation in Northern Ireland. 131British officials did admittedly attempt to differentiate the ANC and the IRA, claiming that 'no parallel can be drawn' between the two organisations, as 'in Northern Ireland, all citizens have the right to participate in the democratic process' , while this did not exist in South Africa.however, it is clear from the documentation that the appearance of similarities between the ANC and the IRA dominated the British government's mind-set. 132IRA actions in Northern Ireland and on the mainland led to Britain having a 'consistent and well-established policy of not having ministerial contact with organisations which use violence as a policy' . 133onstant reference is made particularly to Thatcher's fears of the repercussions that rapprochement with the ANC could have for Britain's position 'regarding contact with the IRA' . 134fficials in Northern Ireland confirmed these fears, stating that Sinn Fein and the Provisional IRA would 'use' such contact 'for propaganda' , as their methods are 'very similar' . 135In short, 'it would be preferable if ministers did not talk to the ANC' . 136There was also considerable Conservative backbench pressure that such contact would undermine Britain's policy in respect of the IRA.Therefore it is worth briefly assessing the situation in Northern Ireland, to examine how it so dominated British official attitudes, and whether, as many British MPs claimed, IRA policies bore resemblance to the ANC's.
As with the ANC, early civil rights protests in Northern Ireland were initially peaceful.In the 1960s, Irish Catholics marched for equality and 'one man one vote' , against a Stormont parliament set up as 'a Protestant Parliament for Protestant people' . 137however, when protesters were treated draconically by the largely Protestant police force, the Provisional IRA was formed as a subsidiary group to the Irish Republican Army that had fought for Irish independence in the 1920s.The Provisionals saw armed resistance as the only means through which change could be enforced.Interestingly, however, the violence in Ireland on both sides was arguably far more lethal than that contemplated by the ANC in South Africa.At the height of the Troubles, in 1972, 474 people were killed (255 by the IRA), a number that outstripped the total number of people killed directly by the ANC throughout their entire armed struggle. 138The IRA also began to launch attacks in mainland Britain with the aim of '[bringing] home to the British people what was happening in the North' . 139Moreover, the British government felt personally implicated, following the assassination attempt on Thatcher and the top level of her government in the 1984 Brighton Grand hotel bombing. 140This had an impact on Thatcher's reluctance to engage with the ANC only two years later.
It is striking that British reactions to Irish Catholic unrest ran parallel to SAG justifications in respect of the ANC.As Ryan notes, the British government attempted to delegitimise the IRA's actions with the claim that the Catholic Irish had a 'historic, irrational record of violence' .They could not be negotiated with. 141Therefore, whenever the question arose of ANC contact, the British, wary of further IRA attacks, were immediately reluctant, fearing the precedents that would be set.In February 1986, Britain did attempt to seize a historic opportunity to 'influence events' when a civil servant met Thabo Mbeki, an encounter that was seen as almost unavoidable due to the ANC's presence at a meeting of the european Community. 142yet, rather than utilising this opportunity to discuss the future of South Africa and the end of apartheid, Britain instead repeatedly encouraged the ANC to 'end their campaign of violence' , arguing that it was 'not a mechanism for political change' . 143In this first instance of official contact between Britain and the ANC, a meeting that was 'in no way [to] be regarded as recognition' , the primary theme was Britain's 'strong opposition to all violence and the indiscriminate killing of civilians' .This language, and the claim that the ANC had harboured an 'indiscriminately' violent policy, underlines not only the effectiveness of the SAG's 'propaganda war' , but also just how much the association of violence with colonial 'savagery' , as well as with the Irish Troubles, permeated the British mind-set.Thatcher's infamous vancouver press conference, where she made that declaration that the ANC was a 'typical terrorist organisation' , followed soon after it was pronounced 'doubtful' whether any further meeting could be 'justified to Number 10' . 144While British officials recognised that talks were an opportunity to 'exert greater influence on ANC thinking' , this was in the event limited to fruitless attempts to dissuade the organisation from their sabotage campaign. 145n short, in the eyes of the British government it was not feasible to meet the ANC even in the late 1980s.Their former Communist links posed a threat to Britain's interests in South Africa, despite British knowledge that the ANC National executive was changing its policies to fit the modern geopolitical order.Moreover, due to the political situation far closer to home, any interaction with a body seemingly linked to violence was deemed a risk not worth taking, even though this meant Britain being left behind in relation to other european nations' dealings with the ANC.As the rest of the world (and even the South African government, including P.W. Botha) began tentatively to talk about the future of South Africa, Britain determinedly sought to maintain the status quo.It remained willing to interact with the racist apartheid state to protect its own interests, and to safeguard values that elsewhere were looking ever more anachronistic.

Conclusion
Analysing British interactions with South Africa in the period 1960 to 1990 in the UK National Archives sheds revealing light on a conservative and isolationist country intent on protecting its historic colonial connections with a state that had written apartheid into law to protect white privilege.Aside from Britain, the US and a few other western allies, from 1962, most nations, whatever their ideological or political orientation, were united in condemnation of apartheid.By contrast, in refusing to condone sanctions on South Africa, Britain went so far as to break rules that it had itself signed up to in the 1948 Geneva Convention on human Rights.In the history of its post-war foreign policy, Britain had been happy to intervene and impose economic sanctions on countries breaking that Convention, but not on South Africa.
The colonial inheritance of British policy toward South Africa is strongly evident in the 1960s, and continued to cast a shadow over the country's stance towards the apartheid state across the 1980s.historic ties in southern Africa were further reinforced by profound economic links: the proposed imposition of sanctions appeared to threaten up to 60,000 jobs in the UK.Though Britain attempted to dress up self-interest with claims of sanctions' adverse impact upon black South Africans, their real fears concerned the impact upon Britain's domestic economy.Cold War anxieties about Soviet intentions in the sub-continent only served to deepen their resolve.And the parallels that could be drawn between the ANC and the Provisional IRA, in the context of the Troubles in Northern Ireland, effectively blocked any prospect of British engagement with the ANC.In consequence, Britain was content that a minority apartheid government should remain in place, rather than risk a take-over by a democratic but potentially radical ANC.Only with the fall of Communism in 1989 did rapprochement occur, helped by Nelson Mandela's respect for Westminster-style parliamentary democracy, and the ANC's gratitude to the British Anti-Apartheid Movement.
In the light of Britain's continuing status as a world power in the 1980s, its stance on late-apartheid South Africa remains highly contradictory and problematic.Attitudes and prejudices that had endured from colonial times are revealed in the archive to have continued to shape the approach to the apartheid state for several decades after Sharpeville.Only sixty years previously, Britain had waged the devastating Anglo-Boer war against an assertive Afrikaner nationalism, yet by the 1960s these same nationalists were regarded as amongst Britain's most reliable international allies in the context of decolonization and the Cold War.This opinion was in stark contrast to its views on the black majority, a group against whom Britain had little record of grievance.Its colonial legacy of trusting minority white power over democracy and justice for the black majority community continued surprisingly late into the twentieth century.