Lancaster House Conference on Rhodesia/Zimbabwe

International Negotiation 14 (2009) 149–174 www.brill.nl/iner

Face-Saving Maneuvers and Strong Third-Party Mediation:
The Lancaster House Conference on Zimbabwe-Rhodesia

Andrew Novak*
4 Carol Ave, Apt. 8, Brighton, MA 02135 USA
(E-mail: novak.andrew@gmail.com)
Received 6 May 2008; accepted 13 July 2008

Abstract
Where two opposing sides are engaged in violent conflict and a process of political disintegration, the
ability to protect an already-contested legitimacy becomes crucial to a negotiated agreement. Lord Car-
rington, the mediator between the government of Zimbabwe-Rhodesia and the guerrilla forces of the
Patriotic Front, helped the parties save face at the Lancaster House Conference in 1979. Using a tactic of
strong third-party mediation, Carrington accepted responsibility for the concessions the opposing delega-
tions made, allowing them to protect their reputation among supporters. This paper examines the three
primary ways the parties at Lancaster House attempted to save face: using the mediator as scapegoat,
engaging in sharp confrontation in public and flexible conciliation in private, and conducting “shadow”
negotiations through Commonwealth Secretary-General Sir Shridath Ramphal.

Keywords
Dominant third-party mediation, face-saving, Lancaster House, mediation, Rhodesia, Zimbabwe

The Lancaster House Conference in London in 1979 was “Zimbabwe’s best last
chance” to resolve a decade-long guerrilla conflict and set up a transitional admin-
istration that would lead to independence (Economist, Oct. 13, 1979). For nearly
fifteen years, the rebellious white settler regime of the British colony of Southern
Rhodesia ruled an isolated, pariah state embroiled in a guerrilla war with African
nationalists.1 The architect of Rhodesia’s unilateral secession from the British
Empire was Prime Minister Ian Smith, a farmer and staunch supporter of white
rule. Under the economic pressure of sanctions and war, Smith negotiated a new
constitution that permitted a semblance of black majority rule while maintaining

*) Andrew Novak has a B.A. in international relations from George Washington University and an M.Sc.
in African Politics from the School of Oriental and African Studies, where he specialized in Southern
Africa. He is currently a J.D. candidate (2009) at the Boston University School of Law.
1)
For an analysis of Rhodesia’s unilateral declaration of independence from the British Empire and the
international response, see Good (1973), including the immediate actions taken by Britain and the United
Nations (15–28), and the eventual passage of comprehensive United Nations sanctions (251–256).
© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2009 DOI: 10.1163/157180609X406553

150 A. Novak / International Negotiation 14 (2009) 149–174

significant power in the hands of the white community.2 In April 1979, Methodist
bishop Abel Muzorewa won the first open elections in the country’s history, becom-
ing prime minister of a country with the hybrid name Zimbabwe-Rhodesia.3 The
guerrilla war showed no signs of abating, and Muzorewa’s popular support eroded.
The victory of Conservative candidate Margaret Thatcher in the United King-
dom’s parliamentary elections in May 1979 changed the calculus: if the parties
could not come to a final agreement, Thatcher would lift British sanctions and
recognize the Muzorewa regime.4
With this narrow window of opportunity, British Foreign Minister Lord Peter
Carrington took a central role in the negotiations between the guerrilla forces
of the Patriotic Front and the Government of Zimbabwe-Rhodesia, buoyed by
the mandate he received from the Commonwealth of Nations. Political authority
on both sides of the Rhodesian War was disintegrating. Muzorewa was prepared
to abandon Smith and surrender the white privileges, and the Patriotic Front was
unraveling into its component parts, the Zimbabwe African National Union
(ZANU) led by Robert Mugabe, and the Zimbabwe African People’s Union
(ZAPU) led by Joshua Nkomo. Using a negotiating style best described as “dom-
inant third-party mediation,” Carrington authored his own proposals, persuaded
each side to offer significant concessions, and used the alternatives – recognition
of Muzorewa’s government or continuation of the guerrilla war – as leverage

2)
Bishop Muzorewa describes the tense negotiations with Ian Smith and the Rhodesian Front govern-
ment that led to the so-called “internal settlement” (see Muzorewa 1978: 225–240). For a systematic
criticism of the Zimbabwe-Rhodesia constitution and founding elections, see Palley (1979: 38):“The 1979
Constitution certainly does not meet the criterion, laid down by successive British governments, of ensur-
ing unimpeded progress to majority rule. Nor is it acceptable to the people of Rhodesia as a whole.” The
most serious flaw in the Zimbabwe-Rhodesia constitution, observers believed, was the “blocking mecha-
nism” by which 28 seats out of a 100-seat legislature were reserved solely for whites. It took 78 votes to
amend the constitution, amounting to an effective white veto (Palley1979: 38).
3)
Despite Muzorewa’s tragic flaws (“incompetent negotiator and a fickle politician”), as Meredith writes,
he had a strong, loyal following. “To those blacks worried about nationalist divisions, Muzorewa repre-
sented the voice of unity. His evident lack of political skill enhanced the belief among his supporters that
he was not personally ambitious. . . . His position as head of the United Methodist Church further con-
vinced them that essentially he was a ‘man of peace’. For many, he was simply the easiest option” (Mere-
dith 1979: 326). 1.87 million votes were cast in the elections; Muzorewa took 67 per cent of the vote,
including 51 of 72 black seats in the assembly; Sithole took 14 per cent and 12 seats; and Chief Ndiweni
took 11 per cent and 9 seats. As Meredith (1979: 365) concludes, the vote itself was a strong indicator of
the strength of the Rhodesian state: “merely the fact that the government had been able to mount such a
huge logistical exercise so effectively indicated how far away from collapse it was, and how false were the
boasts of the [Patriotic Front] about an imminent victory.” For a critique of these numbers, see Palley
(1979: 34–45) (finding that voter turnout among black Africans was only 51 per cent).
4)
Lord Soames, appointed the last governor-general of Southern Rhodesia in December 1979 in accor-
dance with the Lancaster House document, recalled: “on May 15, the new Conservative Prime Minister,
Mrs. Margaret Thatcher, welcomed the major change which had taken place in Rhodesia as a result of the
recent elections and the emergence of an African majority government. . . . She emphasised that the gov-
ernment must and would recognize the realities of the present situation in Rhodesia, but that it must and
would take into account the wider international implications” (Soames 1980: 407).

A. Novak / International Negotiation 14 (2009) 149–174 151

(Davidow 1984: 115).5 “Carrington used his freedom of manoeuvre to pursue
a conference strategy that was more arbitration than mediation,” Preston writes
(2004: 155). Carrington did not do it alone. Perceived by the Patriotic Front as
biased toward Muzorewa, Carrington’s strong tactics could only work if he main-
tained his own face and was not perceived as weak by the delegations lest he lose
his leverage. The entry of the Secretary-General of the Commonwealth of Nations,
Sir Shridath Ramphal, was critical to the success of the Conference as Ramphal
mediated between Carrington and the Patriotic Front and helped Carrington step
back from his most hard-line positions (Chan 1991).
With a fast-paced tempo, hard deadlines, and strict ultimatums, Lord Carrington
successfully resolved the three overriding issues: a ceasefire between government
and guerrilla troops, a transitional administration that would govern the ceasefire
and fresh elections, and a new constitution for independent Zimbabwe.6 Because
of the fragmentation of both delegations and their contested legitimacy at home,
Carrington’s strategy was especially important because it allowed both sides to save
face with their supporters while making important concessions. But Carrington’s
power was not limitless. He was only the public face of the mediation, much of
which occurred in private; Carrington was constantly torn between Thatcher’s
conservative base and his Commonwealth allies. As a result, the presence at the
Conference of a shadow mediator in Sir Ramphal and a host of proxy mediators
helped Carrington moderate in private that which he committed to in public.

Saving Face with Strong Third-party Mediation
Face is a person’s sense of self-image or self-worth that she wants to project to her
social environment. Face influences conflict behavior because parties have to pro-
tect their conflict goals in order to find success; maintaining one’s reputation among
supporters is often critical, particularly where stakes are high. When one party is
attacked, she feels the need to restore or save face; when one party is credited or
complimented, she feels her self-worth is enhanced. Loss of face in a negotiation
setting may bring the negotiation to a halt; a party is much less willing to concede

5)
Carrington was central to the conference; Thatcher did not interfere. The structure of the conference,
in which the Patriotic Front and Zimbabwe-Rhodesia negotiated with Carrington rather than with each
other, reinforced his centrality. Davidow continues: Though the parties sat in the same room for plenary
meetings, no bargaining took place in those position-stating sessions, leaving it to Carrington to carry the
negotiating load. In this role, he was able to obtain from each delegation concessions that they would not
have granted to the other. Carrington’s crucial role was also reinforced by his insistence on basing the
negotiations on his texts, forcing the opposing parties to focus on views other than their own (Davidow
1984: 110).
6)
See Southern Rhodesia – Report of the Constitutional Conference, Lancaster House, London, Sept–
Dec. 1979 (Lancaster House, Dec. 21, 1979), including Annex C (constitution), Annex D (transitional
administration), and Annex E (ceasefire agreement). Accessible at: http://www.zwnews.com/Lancasterhouse.
doc (accessed: Apr. 12, 2008).


or bargain when she is intimidated, embarrassed, or offended. The process of
restoring face is known as facework: those communicative behaviors used to
protect one’s respect, status, credibility, reputation, or social relationships (Ting-
Toomey and Kurogi 1998: 187–88, 190).
Saving face occurs when a negotiator attempts to protect her legitimacy among
her constituency and her negotiating capital with the other party while conceding
points that weaken her position. “Face-saving reflects a person’s need to reconcile
the stand he takes in a negotiation or an agreement with his principles and with
his past words and deeds,” Fisher and Ury write (1991: 15). The fear of losing face
is a major obstacle to reaching an agreement: “Face is much more than ego,” short-
hand for a negotiator’s dignity and reputation with her counterpart and audience
(Ury 1993: 120). Face-saving is designed to “control the occurrence of future
events that one expects will foster an appearance of weakness or vulnerability,
particularly when it is presumed that such events will impair one’s image or the
image of those whom one represents,” Brown (1997: 278) writes. A negotiator
will try to appear consistent in her concessions. “Face-saving involves reconciling
an agreement with principle and with the self-image of the negotiators,” Fisher
and Ury conclude. “Its importance should not be underestimated” (1991: 29).
The concern about face is universal, Dupont and Faure (2002: 50) write,
“although its importance varies according to culture and society,” from “one of
many problems” to “a matter of life and death.” Intercultural face-saving strate-
gies may include defensive or aggressive behavior, avoiding the other party, apolo-
gizing, compromising, or calling in a third party (Ting-Toomey 2004: 78).7
“Maintaining face both confirms the person’s acceptance in a society (collectivism)
and that person’s status within the society (hierarchy)” (Brett 2001: 104–107).
Using an indirect confrontational approach helps to preserve harmony and respect
among the participants, especially among collectivist, hierarchical cultures. Direct,
solution-minded confrontation is discouraged in many cultures. It may be easier
to maintain face using an indirect approach than a direct one; using a third party
helps buffer the disputants from each other, preventing direct confrontation and
the consequent loss of face.8 Parties to a negotiation are better able to trust their
opponents, preserve their negotiating strength, and maintain their legitimacy in

7)
Ting-Toomey divides these face-saving strategies into three categories: dominating facework, in which
a party focuses on presenting a credible image and wanting to win the conflict through competition;
avoiding facework, in which one emphasizes the preservation of relational harmony by not directly deal-
ing with the conflict up front; and integrating facework, involving mutual face protection strategies such
as problem-solving, collaboration, reframing, and compromising (Ting-Toomey 2004: 78).
8)
Graham and Lam (2003) note one cultural context on which saving face rests: “In Chinese business
culture, a person’s reputation and social standing rest on saving face,” and the consequences can be disas-
trous if face is lost. “The Chinese notion of saving face [mianzi] is closely associated with the American
concepts of dignity and prestige.” There are numerous similar culturalist studies that describe the univer-
sality of saving face.


the eyes of their constituents if they can make concessions during negotiations
while saving face.
One method of saving face is to negotiate through a third party (Ury 1993:
121). A negotiator may be more willing to accept a proposal offered by a media-
tor than the same proposal offered by the opposing party (Pruitt and Johnson
1970: 239). “Acceding to the third party permits the representatives to save face
with their constituents as well as with themselves, since the third party is consid-
ered a respectable and impartial source of proposals,” Bartunek, Benton, and Keys
(1975: 552) write. Where a negotiator is torn between the need to make conces-
sions and the need to appear strong and consistent with past statements, the
mediator becomes most effective, able to offer suggestions to relieve the negotia-
tor of responsibility for the concession. Both needs are present in every negotia-
tion, and the more conflicted they are, the more effective a mediator may be. The
negotiation is no longer a zero-sum game in which one party’s gain is the other’s
loss. Mediators may also structure the dialogue by setting the pace and the agenda
for the parties. As Pruitt and Johnson (1970: 245) reveal, the more time-pressured
a negotiation is, the larger and more frequent the concessions. As a result, fast-
paced negotiations may contribute to mediator success. Mediation “provides the
negotiator with a face-saving device whereby he can retreat without feeling that
he has capitulated.” This face-saving “results from throwing the blame for one’s
own concessions onto the mediator” (Pruitt and Johnson 1970: 246). The medi-
ator becomes the scapegoat and thus saves the agreement. As Rubin (1980: 35)
notes, if the concessions ultimately lead to agreement, the parties can assume credit
for success. If the concessions ultimately lead to exploitation at the hands of one’s
adversary, the parties can blame the third-party mediator for the failure. In either
case, the parties avoid a loss of face.
The need to save face may arise where one party has made a strong public com-
mitment and would appear weak if she retreats, or where a party feels intimidated
or insulted by the opposing party (Stedman 1991: 79). A mediator must be tuned
in to a party’s defensive strategies, such as making evasive commitments and
hypothetical concessions. A mediator’s role is to reframe a party’s position, caucus
individually with a party, or help build a party’s self-esteem (van Ginkel 2004:
479–80). Preventing loss of face not only contributes to the likelihood that a
party would accept the agreement, but would help the party “sell” the agreement
to her constituents and make implementation successful (Ury 1993: 122–23).
A mediator that can “elicit a concession from one side and then present it to
the other side as the mediator’s own proposal” and can “shield the first side from
being seen as soft by the other side prior to . . . an agreement” (Pruitt 1981: 138).
In describing Henry Kissinger’s strong mediating role in the Middle East in the
early 1970s, Pruitt (1981: 137) notes how Kissinger served as a surrogate target
for often emotional and tense debate. Kissinger would reframe contentious issues
by stripping them of their emotional content and then formulate proposals for


the two sides. Having achieved the approval of the Egyptian president for United
Nations-administered checkpoints on an Israeli-controlled road, Kissinger pre-
sented this idea to Israel as his own proposal (Pruitt 1981: 137). In addition to
making proposals, the mediator may also extract concessions from the parties that
they could not make to their opposing counterparts for fear of appearing weak.
As Pruitt and Johnson (1970: 240) summarize, “A combination of the need to
make concessions and the need to appear strong should be especially fertile ground
for a mediator’s activity.” The authors (1970: 246) conclude that in mediation, a
negotiator “can retreat without feeling he has capitulated.” As the Kissinger exam-
ple illustrates, this face-saving results from the ability to pass the blame for one’s
concessions to the mediator.
In a pure negotiation, parties have full responsibility for the concessions they
make; in adjudication or arbitration, parties have no control over the decision
and full responsibility rests on the judge or arbitrator alone. Facilitative media-
tion, in which a mediator helps to clarify issues, provide direction, and tease out
points of agreement, is closer to negotiation. Where a mediator promotes specific
outcomes, as in directive mediation, she falls somewhere closer to arbitration. In
directive mediation, a mediator helps a party extricate itself from an impasse, uses
leverage to pressure parties to agree, issues ultimatums, and rewards concessions
(Bercovitch 2007: 176–77). In directive mediation, “the mediator assumes the
maximum degree of involvement, making itself a party to the solution if not to
the dispute” (Zartman and Touval 1992: 253). Such a mediator may persuade the
parties to adopt its vision of a solution and use carrots and sticks to make that
vision attractive to the participants.
The most directive form of mediation, dominant third-party mediation, “lies
between mediation with muscle and dictation,” Davidow (1970: 117) writes. This
kind of “power mediation” involves the mediator’s use of coercion or leverage in
the form of promised rewards or threatened punishments to move the parties
closer to a settlement. In power mediation, Fisher (1995: 41) writes, “the third
party pursues specific interests for its own sake.”9 In Kissinger’s mediations, both
the shuttle format and the placement of less controversial issues early on the
agenda contributed to the feel of momentum; his step-by-step diplomacy pro-
gressed into ever more difficult territory (Pruitt 1981: 139). Lord Carrington was
able to achieve a similar sense of urgency, which “conveyed the impression of
conference progress,” and he imposed strict time limits that produced larger and
more frequent concessions (Davidow 1984: 107–08). In his comparison between
the Lancaster House Conference and mediation efforts in the Lebanese Civil War

9)
Fisher distinguishes between “pure mediation” and “power mediation,” which is similar to the distinc-
tion above between facilitative and directive mediation. (“Pure mediation is typically assumed in the
domestic arena, such as in industrial relations, whereas both approaches are common in international
relations, with powerful states being drawn to power mediation by their very identity, while small states
and international organizations primarily practice pure mediation”) (Fisher 1995: 41).


in Taif, Saudi Arabia in 1990, Preston (2004: 228) argues it was the mediator’s
leverage, not the mediator’s tactical strategy, which was able to extract substantial
concessions from both sides. Thus, the threat to recognize the Muzorewa regime
or to recognize Syria’s role in Lebanon most spurred the parties to agreement. At
Lancaster House, Carrington had both tools – strategy and leverage – at hand.
These served to strengthen his power, ultimately pressuring the parties toward
concessions while allowing the two sides to shift the blame for their concessions
to him.
Fragmented delegations with heavily-contested legitimacy may have the most
serious face problems. For these delegations, strong third-party mediation with a
high-pressure, fast-paced tempo may help them make the major concessions nec-
essary to reach an agreement. The negotiators may be heavily accountable to their
constituencies, often because they are important political or military actors. Those
negotiators who are highly dependent on their support base to implement a
desired outcome are much less flexible in negotiations – and consequently have
more serious problems of face. Negotiators free of constituent restraints have much
more flexibility to reach a desired outcome. Unsurprisingly, Bartunek, Benton,
and Keys (1975: 538) write, those negotiators most dependent on their support
base to implement an agreement (“highly accountable”) are those most in need of
third-party intervention; negotiators with more flexibility were less dependent on
the mediator. “When strong leadership is lacking, a mediator can often provide
face-saving protection,” Susskind and Babbitt (1992: 33) add, describing the
internal political turmoil in Iran during the hostage crisis that prevented those
negotiating for Iran from forging a consensus within their government. Because
the mechanisms for internal decision-making were in disarray, the Algerian medi-
ators were instrumental in helping the divided Iranians produce a face-saving way
out of the impasse.
Where the legitimacy of the negotiating parties is most heavily contested, the
need for robust mediation becomes most critical. “Political actors, whether states
or revolutionary parties, are coalitions of individuals with different values, prefer-
ences, and resources,” Stedman (1991: 210) writes. In both Rhodesia and Lebanon,
Preston (2004: 232) argues, political leaders had consolidated their positions and
sidelined their rivals, augmenting their legitimacy and giving them flexibility to
negotiate moderate solutions without opposition. “Leaders could now make the
compromises necessary to reach a settlement without fear of a palace coup,” he
adds; if intractable divisions persisted, they only served to weaken opposition to
the negotiations (Preston 2004: 232–33). Precisely the opposite is true; Preston has
overstated the unity of the delegations and the political capital they commanded.
Far from facing strong and cohesive negotiating parties, Lord Carrington was suc-
cessful precisely because he faced two weak and bitterly divided delegations.
Throughout 1979, both the Patriotic Front and the Government of Zimbabwe-
Rhodesia were disintegrating, unable to continue promoting a common, unified


agenda. While their leadership structures may have been intact, Stedman (1991:
210–11) writes, at no point in the Conference did either delegation speak with
one voice.
This crisis of legitimacy at home made saving face at the Conference a far more
urgent and pressing concern. This played into Carrington’s hands. His strong
manipulating style helped the fragmented and torn parties save face before suspi-
cious constituencies while ultimately reaching a workable agreement. Indeed,
some observers felt that saving face was the parties’ primary motivation for going
to London. “What the conference may be all about is angling to see which side
can be tagged with responsibility for failure,” one newspaper reported. “This
could have an important political effect on the war which would surely follow”
(Globe and Mail (Canada), Sept. 11, 1979). With the Rhodesian war fought not
only on the battlefield but on the stage of world opinion, neither side wanted to
back down first. It fell to the mediator to help extricate each side from this stand-
off and gracefully retreat.

The Fragmentation of Political Authority in Zimbabwe-Rhodesia
Scholars have overstated the unity and cohesiveness of the delegations attending
Lancaster House. According to Cohen (1995: 107), a “cultural barrier” between
the two sides allowed the mediator to “high handedly . . . impose his own tempo
on the talks.” The Zimbabwe-Rhodesia delegation, organized by “a clear chain of
responsibility and preoccupied with constitutional details” was more pragmatic
and businesslike in its goals. The Patriotic Front, a loose alliance between Robert
Mugabe’s Zimbabwe African National Union (ZANU) and Joshua Nkomo’s
Zimbabwe African People’s Union (ZAPU), had a “discontinuous, sluggish
tempo” slowed by the need to resort to consensus and principled positions (Cohen
1995: 107). This characterization merits reanalysis; it overstates the unity of each
delegation and the coherence of their agendas. Both the delegation of Zimbabwe-
Rhodesia and the Patriotic Front were sharply splintered, representing vastly
different interests and constituencies. Lord Carrington benefited from this frag-
mentation of authority, as the cleft delegations ceded a great deal of control to
him in a way that had not been possible at previous negotiations. Carrington had
his own face problems, having to manage his own party’s right wing while main-
taining the support of Commonwealth and African leaders. Carrington’s control
over the Conference, moderated by Ramphal’s quiet diplomacy, allowed the
delegations to make very important concessions – Muzorewa’s resignation, the
restoration of British rule, a ceasefire, and fresh elections – while preserving their
standing among their home constituencies. Potential spoilers, unhappy with the
Conference outcome, did not later attempt to undermine the agreement.


The Delegation of Zimbabwe-Rhodesia
The fragmented delegations mirrored the disintegration in the wider political
sphere. The unquestioned head of the Zimbabwe-Rhodesia delegation was Bishop
Muzorewa, once a rising nationalist before his alliance with the former white
regime. He had been prime minister for less than six months by the time the
Conference opened. Muzorewa’s close confidante, Deputy Prime Minister Silas
Mundawarara, was present in London. The delegation included two of Muzore-
wa’s political rivals from the 1979 Zimbabwe-Rhodesia elections, Chief Kayisa
Ndiweni and Ndabaningi Sithole.10 Former Prime Minister Ian Smith was on the
delegation, although, as the sole dissenting vote over whether to approve the new
constitution, he was sidelined early at the Conference. “[Ian Smith’s] loss of para-
mount influence over white politics was clearly critical to the success of the Lan-
caster House negotiations,” Preston (2004: 131) writes. Smith no longer spoke
for white Rhodesia. The other white members of the delegation were pragmatists
such as government minister Chris Andersen, one of the first white politicians to
pledge support to the new Zimbabwe government, and Finance Secretary David
Smith, who, with an understanding of the country’s dire economic position, was
“more than anyone else . . . conscious of the need for a settlement” (Renwick 1997:
38). Those closest to the conflict, including intelligence chief Ken Flower and
armed forces commander Peter Walls, were those most ardently advocating for an
agreement (Davidow 1984: 69–70). A coalition emerged among Muzorewa,
Walls, and David Smith that successfully overcame the opposition of Ian Smith.
Unlike previous negotiations, where Ian Smith was in undisputed control, at
Lancaster House Ian Smith’s voice “became one among a cacophony of voices:
Muzorewa, Walls, Flower, David Smith, among others” (Stedman 1991: 211).11

10)
Sithole represented the Zimbabwe African National Union (ZANU), unaffiliated with Mugabe’s
force. Sithole took 12 seats out of 100, with his strength in the eastern region of Manicaland. Ndiweni
represented the United People’s National Federation Party, and took nine seats out of 100, especially in
the southern region of Matabeleland.
11)
White politics in Rhodesia were complex. White liberals had a champion in reformist Rhodesian
Prime Minister Garfield Todd, who was pushed out before the 1958 elections in favor of moderate Edgar
Whitehead, who had the backing of the white business community. In 1962, Whitehead and the United
Federal Party lost to the right-wing Rhodesian Front. These three factions, liberals, moderates, and con-
servatives, continued to divide white politics, with conservatives increasingly constituting the largest
faction. By the 1970s, Ian Smith was dominant in Rhodesian politics, with ever-widening majorities. For
the rise and fall of the white left and center in Rhodesia, see Hancock (1984: 1–11). For an overview of
white politics in post-UDI Rhodesia dominated by the Rhodesian Front, see Bowman (1973), especially
chapter 7, “Internal Politics and Control since the Unilateral Declaration of Independence” (133–150).
The white left continued to oppose Ian Smith and advocate for a settlement, but they languished in the
political wilderness. By around 1978, however, even Ian Smith’s close colleagues were increasingly warm-
ing to a solution. Muzorewa’s government and even Carrington’s mediation efforts at Lancaster House
depended in part on the acquiescence of pragmatic Rhodesian Front politicians for success. See Godwin
and Hancock (1993). For a description of Muzorewa’s delegation to Lancaster House, see 261; for white
division over the “internal settlement” and Muzorewa’s rise to power, see 238–39 (describing the white
referendum on the Zimbabwe-Rhodesia constitution).


The Delegation of the Patriotic Front
“Despite a general unity of perception, the Patriotic Front, like the Muzorewa
delegation, was an uneasy coalition,” Davidow (1984: 46) writes, recalling the
nearly two decades of hostility and rivalry between ZAPU and ZANU, which at
times broke out into violent conflict. The Patriotic Front was at its most unified
at Lancaster House, Stedman (1991: 211) adds, but “Nkomo and Mugabe had
different interests, sponsors, and constituencies.” By the end of the Conference,
ZANU and ZAPU finally split. Unlike Nkomo, Mugabe believed he could win
the war by force; he also did not support contesting the 1980 elections as a united
party. While Nkomo embodied ZAPU, Mugabe’s position at the head of ZANU
was far less personal. Mugabe’s military commander, General Josiah Tongogara,
“had the clearest understanding of the disastrous nature of the war” and “would
argue during the conference for a course of moderation and compromise” (Davi-
dow 1984: 44). Tongogara was the wild card the British had not counted on;
he “emerged as the most powerful and persistent voice for settlement within the
ZANU camp” (Stedman 1991: 211). The ZANU delegation sought balance
between its “fire-breathing radicals” like Edgar Tekere, and more pragmatic lead-
ers like Tongogara and legal advisor Simbi Mubako,” Davidow (1984: 48) writes.
He also describes how ZANU was further cleft by the Shona clan: “As a Zezuru,
[Mugabe] had to tread carefully around the sensitivities of the more numerous
Karangas, whose members formed the bulk of ZANU’s fighting force and its
military leadership” (1984: 49).

The Mediator’s Delegation
Lord Carrington was only the public face of the mediator at Lancaster House.
While the British may have been, as Davidow (1984: 49) wrote, the most unified
delegation at the conference, Carrington represented a sharply cleft government,
deeply divided on the issue of Rhodesia. The Conservative Party embodied this
division. Just a year before, 116 Tory MPs revolted against party leadership and
voted against renewing sanctions on Zimbabwe-Rhodesia; Ian Smith still held
tremendous sympathy among the Tory Right, and Muzorewa perhaps even more.
While Carrington may have been “in the party, he was not really of it, especially
in its latest, most conservative form under Mrs. Thatcher,” and nowhere was this
conflict more glaring than over the Rhodesian crisis (Davidow 1984: 35). In
October 1979, shortly after the Lancaster House Conference opened, a Tory
Congress threatened rebellion against Carrington. Carrington had an equally
difficult problem with the Commonwealth of Nations, which had given Thatch-
er’s government a mandate to host negotiations so long as Britain adhered to
certain ground rules, among them a new election (Stedman 1991: 171). When
Carrington threatened to lean too closely to Muzorewa, he risked the loss of


Commonwealth and Front Line support; if he made too many concessions to the
Patriotic Front, he risked mutiny from his party’s powerful right wing.
Sir Ramphal, the head of the Commonwealth, played as great a role as
Carrington himself at Lancaster House, acting essentially as a shadow mediator
(Chan 2001). Ramphal was able to help Carrington step away from some of his
most hard-line positions, positions he put forward to pressure the Patriotic Front,
to shore up support in the Conservative Party, and to prevent Muzorewa from
walking out. In private, Ramphal secured the consent of both Carrington and the
Patriotic Front to concessions neither could make in public (Chan 2001). The
omnipotent mediator at Lancaster House in fact had his own institutional inter-
ests to protect; Ramphal’s presence made this possible. In addition, an impressive
array of other actors, including the Front Line presidents, a handful of Common-
wealth prime ministers, and U.S. diplomats, conducted proxy negotiations and
floated ideas. The presence of a shadow mediator at Lancaster House helped
dramatically to close the wide gap between the two delegations – a gap too wide
for Carrington alone to fill.

The Need to Save Face at Lancaster House
Lancaster House was the culmination of half a decade of intermittent failed medi-
ation between the Smith regime and the guerilla forces. The ill-fated Victoria Falls
Conference in 1975 had disastrous consequences. Those black nationalists most
willing to offer concessions, namely Muzorewa and Sithole, dramatically lost face,
“strengthen[ing] the hand of Mugabe, who did not want a negotiated settlement”
(Stedman 1991: 79). This intensified the armed conflict as both sides used the lull
in violence to strengthen themselves in anticipation of renewed fighting. The
failure to save face in Victoria Falls led both sides to redouble efforts on the battle-
field to restore the reputation they had negotiated away. At the Geneva Confer-
ence in 1976, Ian Smith attempted to present himself as a “model of sweet
reasonableness” by agreeing to Henry Kissinger’s entire plan for a power-sharing
regime, a plan far too conciliatory to the Smith regime to have warranted honest
consideration by African nationalists (Godwin and Hancock 1993: 181). This
posturing allowed Smith to revive his waning support in the South African gov-
ernment and to refuse less generous offers from the British and Americans the
following year.12 Both sides used negotiations – and the failure of the negotiations –
to shore up political support and strengthen their hand on the battlefield. Not

12)
The less generous offers came in the context of the Anglo-American initiatives. The Anglo-American
offers put forth by U.S. Secretary of State Cyrus Vance and U.K. Foreign Minister David Owen swung
the pendulum too far in favor of the Patriotic Front. Smith and Muzorewa had to reject it, and it pushed
the two closer together (Stedman 1991: 161–62).


until Lancaster House were the parties able to make real, honest concessions, due
in part to changed political circumstances and the shrewdness of the mediator.
Lord Carrington, taking a strong directive role as mediator, was very sensitive
to the need of both parties to save face when offering concessions. While Car-
rington pressured the Patriotic Front in particular to reach an agreement, “the
British negotiating style coupled a harsh public posture with a far more nuanced
and sensitive private relationship” with the representatives of the guerrilla forces,
Davidow (1984: 110) writes.13 “Doors were never slammed shut. Much of the
tough negotiator façade was pure theater, designed to have its effect on Nkomo
and Mugabe” to accept the final agreement, but also intended to neutralize the
potential spoilers – right wing British Tory, South African, and white Rhodesian
sentiment that Carrington was treating the Patriotic Front too gently (Davidow
1984: 110). In private, Carrington secured important concessions: Muzorewa’s
resignation, the restoration of British rule, the disarmament of the guerrillas, and
a new election. But in public, Carrington allowed both sides to save face by
grandstanding, currying favor with the press and British public, posturing, com-
mitting to extreme positions, and even attacking the mediator himself and his
negotiating style. Considering how significant the concessions were, Carrington
successfully prevented either side from losing face to such a degree as to damage
each negotiator’s relationship with his constituency.14
The most important ways that the parties at the Lancaster House Conference
were able to save face included blaming Lord Carrington and his heavy-handed
negotiating tactics; symbolically taking extreme positions in public while yielding
to more moderate proposals in private; and negotiating through a shadow media-
tor to help Carrington protect his face with the delegations. In addition, parties
could not hedge for conference failure by jockeying for advantage on the battle-
field as they could at previous negotiations, due in large part to pressure from
Rhodesia’s neighbors. The parties were hemmed in on all sides and found a nego-
tiated settlement to be the most effective way out of the impasse. This was the key
to the Conference’s success: protecting one’s negotiating capital and reputation
with constituents while making impressive concessions and then raising the costs
of alternatives to negotiation.

13)
Lord Soames (1980: 410) writes that Carrington’s proposals were pragmatic and sound, which is why
they were successful. Carrington had “a determination to implement what it believed to be right and
defensible, once all the arguments for and against had been deployed, whether all the other parties to the
Conference had signified their agreement or not. . . . [T]he British government was ready to take convinc-
ing steps to show that it would give no party a veto over the implementation of solutions which ought to
commend themselves to reasonable men. At each such stage, it was of course condemned by some for its
intransigence. But it stood firm, and its firmness was vindicated at every stage.”
14)
The Economist referred to this as “huff, puff and fudge” (see “Zimbabwe’s Best Last Chance,” Econo-
mist, Oct. 13, 1979:27).


Mediator as Scapegoat
Strong mediators can help reluctant parties save face by offering proposals that
the parties themselves cannot offer without risking their reputation or standing in
the eyes of their supporters. The mediator thus accepts responsibility for the pro-
posal. In public, the parties may attack the mediator and bemoan his tactics. The
stronger the mediator, the more the negotiators are able to pass the blame for
their concessions. At Lancaster House, members of both delegations used Lord
Carrington as scapegoat, bitterly attacking his proposals while faithfully follow-
ing his lead.
“For three months, Britain’s Lord Carrington had endured a variety of verbal
abuse” in the peace talks, Newsweek reported (Dec. 17, 1979). Of Lord Car-
rington’s strategy of presenting and revising proposals that he then pressured both
sides to accept, Nkomo recalls: “They were ‘spider’ tactics” (Charlton 1990: 77).
“By dealing with each side separately, Lord Carrington put himself at the centre
of the spider’s web, of which he alone could pull the strings” (Nkomo 1984: 195).
Mugabe shared Nkomo’s sentiment about the mediation procedures, finding them
“absolutely baffling and, in a way, repugnant” (Charlton 1990: 79). Mugabe even
yelled at Carrington at one point to “go to hell” (Newsweek, Dec. 17, 1979). The
Patriotic Front explicitly challenged Lord Carrington’s timetable, believing tran-
sitional arrangements should be discussed before the constitution. Ian Smith agreed,
breaking with his delegation (Stedman 1991: 177). Though the Front hoped to
change the timetable in order to strengthen its position in the constitutional nego-
tiations, Carrington held firm. Ian Smith as well resented Carrington’s manner of
mediation. “We were very disappointed in Carrington,” Smith recalled. “[We] were
deceived by him” (Charlton 1990: 89). Muzorewa had sharp words to say about
Carrington’s tactics at one point: “My delegation and I are running a country. We
have been in London too long and are losing patience” (Stedman 1991: 187).
Carrington recalled in his memoirs that he was the subject of “ferocious verbal
assaults from one side or the other . . . generally accompanied by noise, rage – real
or simulated – and innuendo” (Carrington 1988: 299). By attacking the media-
tor, the parties saved the mediation. Blaming Lord Carrington for his manipula-
tion and deceit was a face-saving maneuver that allowed them to compensate for
the results of the negotiations.
Muzorewa’s relationship with the mediator was complex. No delegate needed
to make as great a sacrifice as Muzorewa did, and no delegate needed to save face
more urgently. Describing the 1978 negotiations over a new constitution for
Zimbabwe-Rhodesia, Meredith described Muzorewa’s face dilemma: “Facing
Smith in negotiation, Muzorewa was constantly torn between the need to reach
an accommodation with the whites and, at the same time, to satisfy radical ele-
ments in his own party.” Indeed, “the rank and file of the party pressed the bishop
to make a tougher bargain; many even questioned the wisdom of negotiating


with Smith” (Meredith 1979: 236). Muzorewa lost face following the internal
settlement and confronted a similar dilemma at Lancaster House. Carrington’s
most difficult task was to secure Muzorewa’s resignation and a commitment
to hold new elections. This deeply divided Muzorewa’s delegation: Ian Smith felt
it to be political suicide, while Sithole, as leader of the parliamentary opposition
in Zimbabwe-Rhodesia, was strongly in favor of another opportunity to rival
Muzorewa (Stedman 1991: 187). The bishop’s closest allies on the delegation,
such as Deputy Prime Minister Mundawarara, adamantly opposed the fall of the
government. Walls found Carrington’s transitional package to be favorable as it
kept the Rhodesian security apparatus intact, and he therefore conceded Muzore-
wa’s resignation.15 Once again, this fragmentation played into Carrington’s hands.
By 1979, Muzorewa faced major challenges to his authority. His government
was in trouble: much of his own party defected over the summer, the guerrillas
had rejected his amnesty offers, the confidence of the white community began to
wane, and the economy continued to deteriorate (Stedman 1991: 172).16 And
still his government lacked recognition. “The Bishop cannot be said to have a
stable democratic base or a stable military base,” Palley (1979: 36) wrote, calling
his coalition “unstable.” He sought to reverse these trends at Lancaster House
and regain his standing as Rhodesia’s first black prime minister. Muzorewa might
have hoped the Conference would collapse; he could then come to a separate
agreement with Britain.17 He continually sought to maintain good relations with
Carrington, believing this would maximize his outcome. As a result, he was more
prone to make concessions (Davidow 1984: 43–44, 112).
In order to secure Muzorewa’s resignation, Carrington first “appealed to [his]
ethics and tried to convince him that stepping down was the ‘right’ thing to do”

15)
This division on Muzorewa’s delegation closely mirrors Stedman’s observation that his delegation
really had four factions. Muzorewa and Mundawarara attended Lancaster House in an attempt to bolster
their government internationally and domestically. Peter Walls and Ken Flower, the two most concerned
with security, recognized the need for a settlement and believed Muzorewa could win an election. Ian
Smith decided against any concessions at all, since he knew any fair election would mean a victory for the
Patriotic Front. Sithole, and likely Ndiweni, were anxious for new elections. The key “swing” vote was
Finance Minister David Smith. When forced to choose sides, David Smith sided with Muzorewa over Ian
Smith (Stedman 1991: 172–73).
16)
In the summer of 1979, Muzorewa’s party cracked along ethnic Shona clan lines. James Chikerema,
one of Muzorewa’s deputies, led dissidents from the Zezuru clan out of the United African National
Council. Palley suggests that after this defection Muzorewa’s base was largely Manyika and Kore-Kore,
who, together, formed about 25 per cent of the African population of Rhodesia. Muzorewa’s legitimacy
crisis was in part an ethnic and clan crisis. On the strength of the three Shona clans, Muzorewa won
Mashonaland; he did much worse among the Ndebele peoples, who largely voted for Ndiweni. The
Karanga Shona clan and the Ndau ethnic group split; the Karanga comprised a large portion of the mili-
tary and police forces. “This leaves the Bishop dependant on white support to govern” (Palley 1979: 36).
17)
This was Carrington’s “best alternative to a negotiated agreement (BATNA)” (Davidow, 1984: 43–44,
112) (“Carrington not only let the Patriotic Front, and everyone else, know his BATNA . . . but he was
able to use it as an instrument of considerable leverage.”)


(Stedman 1991: 187). Second, Carrington appealed to the bishop’s political
interests, hoping “to convince him that his loss of position would be temporary,
that he would win another election and regain his position in a matter of months”
(Stedman 1991: 188). After agreeing to new elections, Muzorewa sought to pres-
ent himself in a new light to the public as an apolitical clergyman committed to
nonviolence rather than an ambitious partisan stakeholder. He “wrestled in prayer”
to reach his decision to resign (De Waal 1990: 34). As he later recalled, “I did not
come to seek office, or seek power[;] I had been persuaded to join politics for the
good of the country.” He assured his supporters that he would win any election.
“I believed that if the new elections were fair, then we were certain to win,” he said
(Charlton 1990: 83). Agreeing to a new election was a gamble, and one he spec-
tacularly lost, winning only three out of 80 open seats in the Assembly. The white
community felt a sense of betrayal at Muzorewa’s loss, shocked that Thatcher
would allow a Marxist regime to take power. In the conspiracy theories that fol-
lowed, Britain played a substantial role (Godwin and Hancock 1993: 272–73). Ian
Smith, who pressured Muzorewa not to resign, blamed Carrington and the
“political sharks” in the Foreign Office for Muzorewa’s loss: “They took poor old
Bishop Muzorewa for a ride. He was not a politician. He was a simple man of the
church. . . . He did not understand the game” (Charlton 1990: 90). Carrington
admitted he preferred Muzorewa to win and saw a Muzorewa-Nkomo coalition
as the most likely outcome, but he denied promising any result. Blaming the British
for Muzorewa’s electoral loss deflected criticism from Muzorewa’s government
and allowed his base to more readily accept the electoral outcome.

Private Negotiation, Public Rhetoric
In reality, Lancaster House consisted of two negotiations, one public and one
behind the scenes. The British mediation team attempted to stake out a moderate
position that could in theory be accepted, and then sought to push Muzorewa
into accepting it so that it was a real offer, capable of implementation, when pre-
sented to the Patriotic Front. “This meant that the main battles with Muzorewa
and his team had to be fought in private,” Renwick (1997: 34) wrote, noting that
these private caucuses were every bit as difficult as the public battles with the
Patriotic Front during the plenary sessions. As Carrington (1988: 299) recalled,
“We did the minimum in plenary sessions, with their opportunities for quarrel
and attitude, the maximum in restricted negotiation behind the scenes.” This was
another way the parties could save face: coupling a symbolic harsh public stance
with a more conciliatory private position.
The parties, like the British, committed themselves to extreme positions in public
that they moderated in private. At one point, Mugabe made statements to the press
saying that the Patriotic Front would not accept British oversight of the elections,
but, when pressed by Lord Carrington, he retracted: “My saying it on television


does not mean it constitutes an official Patriotic Front position” (Stedman 1991:
184). Mugabe had to show the public a tough side given his own face problems.
His forces truly believed ZANU could win the war outright on the battlefield,
and were not supportive of negotiations. Mugabe was famous for his revolution-
ary rhetoric. “Our guns must . . . continue to blast the enemy in the name of the
people and with the power of the people,” Mugabe once said. “The surest victory
for the people and the surest defeat of the enemy can only be the product of our
armed struggle” (Mugabe 1983: 110). Mugabe accused the British of “giving full
support to the fascist regime” in Rhodesia. “They are not after a genuine settle-
ment,” he said (1983: 110). Yet he went to London to negotiate anyway, and his
rhetoric stayed outside the conference hall.
Although Lord Carrington operated from a single negotiating text and formu-
lated all of his own proposals, he was willing to make private concessions in order
to help the parties save face.18 In discussing the constitutional framework, the
Patriotic Front could digest all aspects of the agreement except for one: land redis-
tribution. Under the new constitution, the government had to fully compensate
for land, an expensive prospect for the new state. “The land issue was hardest
to accept, because it involved such visceral feelings and our mobilization had
depended on land, thus we decided we had to make some kind of stand,” one
delegate recalled (Stedman 1991: 182). The Patriotic Front threatened to walk
out of the Conference, and Mugabe presented a tough public posture: “We would
welcome a settlement. But we can achieve peace and justice for our people through
the barrel of a gun” (Davidow 1984: 63). Carrington reacted with an equally
hard-line public posture: he adjourned the Conference. In private, he presented
the Front with an offer from Britain to cover some of the expense of reimbursing
farmers for land redistribution. Sir Ramphal secured a similar offer from President
Carter, which provided sufficient assurance to the Patriotic Front. As one ZANU
delegate recalled, “We had something we could sell to the people” (Davidow 1984:
183). Although the Patriotic Front had made substantial compromises in the
constitution, it walked away with one major concession. The public posturing
and private conciliation proved to be effective.
In December, the Lancaster House Conference finally came to a close. Mugabe
faced a difficult choice: whether to sign the final document or resort to the battle-
field to fight a war he was sure he could win. His sponsors, the Front Line states,
supported the former, while his troops on the ground (if not his commanders)
supported the latter. As Davidow (1984: 89) writes, Mugabe’s motivation for

18)
Davidow elaborates: “The British did not develop a blueprint prior to the conference that would dic-
tate each move in advance. In fact, as Lancaster House progressed, they found themselves encountering
unplanned-for situations, making commitments not entertained . . . at the outset.” This was tempered by
three factors critical to the Conference’s success: emphasis on British centrality, dictatorial conference
management, and a step-by-step approach (Davidow 1984: 36).


stalling was complex: he distrusted the British; he feared the Rhodesian military;
and he could not betray the trust of his supporters. The ceasefire arrangements
did not fully satisfy the Patriotic Front; “it became important for them to dem-
onstrate their own negotiating strength by forcing the British to actually amend
the proposals” (Davidow 1984: 88). At the last plenary session on December 15,
Mugabe attacked the British proposals and announced that he rejected the cease-
fire arrangements. Following this public confrontation, the British pulled out all
stops: they enlisted Mugabe’s military commander Tongogara to pressure him,
and leaked information to the press, whether true or not, that Nkomo planned to
sign with or without Mugabe. The pressure from President Machel of Mozam-
bique proved decisive; he would not let Mugabe use Mozambique as a base for
renewed hostilities (Renwick 1997: 60; Davidow 1984: 89). Under this pressure,
Mugabe signed, but not before the British made “a final face-saving gesture.”
They established an additional checkpoint in Rhodesia at which guerrilla forces
could disarm (Stedman 1991: 207). To the Patriotic Front, this was more than an
empty concession. “We stood our ground, because now it had to do with the
fighters,” Mugabe later said of the disarmament points (Charlton 1990: 130).
The stationing of British and Commonwealth troops in the assembly areas gave
the Front confidence that Rhodesian troops would not attack the disarming sol-
diers. The flexibility behind the scenes allowed Carrington to consider the posi-
tions of the parties and adjust his proposals to meet the parties’ criticisms in a way
he could not do publicly.

Shadow Mediation
Given the fractious nature of both delegations and their heavily contested author-
ity, both parties, especially the Patriotic Front, were constrained from making
certain concessions to Lord Carrington without losing face. The Patriotic Front’s
belief that Carrington, as the representative of a Tory government, was biased
toward Muzorewa heightened this face concern. When Carrington leaned too far
toward Muzorewa, forcing the Patriotic Front to either lose face and concede or
leave the Conference, Sir Ramphal intervened on behalf of the Patriotic Front
and organized a “parallel conference” to Lancaster House (Charlton 1990: 109).
At the Commonwealth Heads of Government meeting in Lusaka, Zambia in
August 1979, Britain received the backing of a united Commonwealth for nego-
tiations on Rhodesia, so long as those negotiations resulted in new elections and
a democratic constitution. “I saw my role, and the Commonwealth Secretariat’s
role, as holding the British government to Lusaka,” Ramphal said of his agenda at
Lancaster House (Charlton 1990: 109). Carrington (1988: 300) presents a less
sympathetic portrait, believing that “Ramphal thought, no doubt with the best of
intentions, that he could help and had the right to try. He was mistaken[;] . . . totally
committed to the Patriotic Front, he had no credibility as an impartial observer.”


Carrington did not see the greater dynamic: at some points in the conference,
Carrington and Ramphal were in a negotiation of their own, the proxies of the
two delegations. This is the phenomenon of the dual mediator: with their own
institutional interests, the two mediators became negotiators.
Ramphal’s intervention proved decisive a number of times, helping Carrington
step down from hard-line proposals so that the Patriotic Front could meet the
concession. Ramphal put forth more moderate alternatives that both Carrington
and the Front could accept. When the Patriotic Front refused to consent to the
new constitution because it did not contain a provision for land redistribution,
Carrington vowed to move forward on the transitional arrangements with Muzorewa
alone. Sir Ramphal condemned Carrington’s actions, but then “busied himself
with seeking a formula that would enable Mugabe and Nkomo to agree” (Ren-
wick 1997: 42–43). Ramphal secretly enlisted the assistance of U.S. Ambassador
Kingman Brewster to seek a pledge from President Carter for a contribution of a
substantial amount of money for land redistribution. “That of course saved the
conference” at the moment when Nkomo and Mugabe prepared to leave, Ramphal
recalled (BBC News, Aug. 22, 2007). Brewster’s cautious offer did not signifi-
cantly add substance to a similar one Carrington made on behalf of the United
Kingdom, “but it did present Nkomo and Mugabe with a face-saving way out of
the impasse” that they ultimately accepted (Davidow 1984: 65). Sir Ramphal,
along with Anthony Lake from the U.S. State Department and Jamaican Prime
Minister Michael Manley, helped mediate between Carrington and the Patriotic
Front over the duration of the transitional period. The Patriotic Front perceived
Carrington’s proposal as too short in duration for the interim government to
dismantle the white state apparatus. Backed by President Carter and the Front
Line presidents, Ramphal’s intervention to extend the interregnum “resulted in
some indication of British flexibility,” and Carrington agreed to allocate several
more weeks to allow a ceasefire to take hold (Davidow 1984: 70–71).
In order to maintain his tempo and leverage, Carrington himself had to protect
face lest he spark a Tory revolt. Carrington proposed that the Rhodesian armed
forces should keep security in the country during the transitional period. The
Patriotic Front wanted a U.N. peacekeeping force, which, if Carrington agreed,
“would have appeared like a partial surrender of the British prerogative in Rhodesia”
(Chan 1991). Nor could Carrington take the risk of an all-British military force
lest he raise the ire of the Tory Right. On November 10, Ramphal and Kaunda
won Carrington’s approval for a Commonwealth Monitoring Force, which would
have a backbone of British allies along with developing world representation from
Fiji and Kenya. Their intervention was decisive: “Without a climb down from the
Rhodesian armed forces-only scenario, the Patriotic Front could never have agreed
to a ceasefire” (Chan 1990). While Carrington supported individual country del-
egations for election observation during the new elections so as to increase the
odds of a split verdict in the case of election irregularities, Ramphal won another


concession with a coordinated Commonwealth Observer Group that would orga-
nize election observer units and speak with one voice (Chan 1990).
Ramphal’s greatest victory was in preventing Commonwealth members from
defecting, particularly the Front Line and African presidents who may have
opposed the Lancaster House Conference. The Front Line presidents kept their
pressure on the Patriotic Front to stay at the table. Behind the scenes, they lob-
bied Carrington to help Mugabe save face; under their pressure, Carrington agreed
to neutralize the Rhodesian military and air force to prevent attacks on disarming
guerrillas (Stedman 1991: 199). As Chan (1991) recalls, “It was Ramphal, late
at night, with Nkomo and Mugabe present, who telephoned [President Julius]
Nyerere and convinced the Tanzanian leader that the proposed agreement would
not put the [Patriotic Front] at extreme risk.” The presence of proxy mediators at
Lancaster House, particularly on behalf of the Patriotic Front, helped preserve
face both for the Front itself and for Lord Carrington. These proxy mediators
served as channels of communication and “trial balloon floaters” for the opposing
sides, “allowing new ideas to circulate without any delegation’s formally accepting
paternity” (Davidow 1984: 109). Muzorewa benefited as well; South African For-
eign Minister Pik Botha, passing through London, assured the Muzorewa delega-
tion that the terms of the agreement were acceptable to the South Africans (Smith
1997: 317).19 In addition, British military advisors worked closely with Walls and
Tongogara to make sure Carrington’s ceasefire proposals were practical, and once
they were, Walls and Tongogara together helped sell the ceasefire to their delega-
tions (Stedman 1991: 199–200). In public, Carrington was a strong third-party
mediator, in firm and unchallenged control. Behind the scenes, his authority was
multifaceted and complex.

Hedging for Conference Failure
During the Lancaster House negotiations, the parties continued the war at full
force, jockeying for position on the battlefield as a way to hedge for conference
failure. The use of force had long been a face-saving tactic for the Rhodesian
combatants when negotiations fell apart. As Stedman (1991: 229) writes, “When
the opportunity to negotiate seemed foreclosed, the pressure to escalate [the con-
flict] increased tremendously.” After the failure of the Victoria Falls Conference in
early 1976, the Front Line presidents of Zambia, Mozambique, Botswana, and
Tanzania “agreed to give full support to the guerrilla movement” when their

19)
According to Ian Smith, Pik Botha encouraged Muzorewa to comply with the Lancaster House Agree-
ment. “The promises of both financial and material assistance made at the meetings with Muzorewa and
David Smith proved to be a powerful lever” (Smith 1997: 323). Smith also had harsh words for Chief
Justice Hector MacDonald, whom Smith accused of undermining Rhodesia’s position in London. Mac-
Donald was one of a number of political actors in Zimbabwe-Rhodesia who defected. Given the fragmen-
tation of politics, this is hardly surprising.


efforts to promote negotiations with the Smith regime failed (Meredith 1979: 207).
Three days after the opening of the Geneva Conference in late 1976, the Rhode-
sian army struck deep into Tête Province, Mozambique. “In the seven weeks that
the Geneva Conference lasted, more guerrillas were killed in Rhodesia than in the
whole of 1975” (Meredith 1979: 286). At Lancaster House, the Rhodesian secu-
rity forces launched a major raid deep into Zambia just as Carrington was pre-
senting his proposals for a transitional administration that kept the security forces
intact. If the Conference had failed, and the conflict escalated into a larger or
regional war, “it would have been in part because major actors believed that nego-
tiation was foreclosed” (Stedman 1991: 230).
Should Lancaster House have failed, the intensified use of military force was
much more impracticable than after previous negotiations. First, the parties’ allies –
the Front Line states for the Patriotic Front and South Africa for Zimbabwe-
Rhodesia – had no intention of letting the conflict continue indefinitely, and
they made this clear to the parties. Second, the one party who would most have
needed to resort to force to save face, namely Joshua Nkomo of ZAPU, suffered
a major military setback during the conference that all but derailed his plans for
a renewed offensive in northern Rhodesia. This committed Nkomo even more to
an agreement he, perhaps more than any other party at the Conference, desper-
ately needed. “In many ways, Carrington’s strongest card at Lancaster House was
the belief by all of the delegations that they could win an election,” Martin and
Johnson (1981: 318) write. If any of the parties had not believed this, continuing
the war would have been the best hope for victory; at Lancaster House, however,
the parties, especially Nkomo, had more to gain by negotiation than by contin-
ued warfare.
Nkomo, the “weak link in the Patriotic Front,” entered Lancaster House with
a major legitimacy problem: given the overwhelming strength of the ZANU forces,
he knew his smaller force was not indispensible to Mugabe on the battlefield
(Stedman 1991: 169). As Stedman (1991: 165) writes, “Cooperation was risky
for a junior partner that had real limits on its base of support.” The Rhodesian
government had long attempted to peel the more moderate Nkomo away from
Mugabe and to enter a separate settlement with him. Nkomo’s face problem with
Mugabe began in August 1978, when a secret negotiation between Nkomo and
Ian Smith fell apart. When the details of the negotiations were leaked, there was
a “blazing row between the two factions of the Patriotic Front,” Godwin and
Hancock (1993: 228) write. Forced to “prove” himself to Mugabe and ZANU,
Nkomo’s forces bombed Air Rhodesia Flight 825.20 “For days on end, White
Rhodesia was overwhelmed by shock, grief, and anger” (Godwin and Hancock
1993: 228). The incident saved face with Mugabe, as “ZAPU had . . . become

20)
Of the 52 passengers and four crew members, eighteen survived the crash only to be attacked by
ZAPU forces half an hour later. Ten more died.


more radicalized” by the incident, but any hope Nkomo would ever join a gov-
ernment with Muzorewa had evaporated (Stedman 1991: 165).
By the time of Lancaster House, Nkomo’s tumultuous alliance with Mugabe
was unraveling. Nkomo planned a risky move, an “act of desperation, not strat-
egy” in case the Conference fell apart: he would launch a major military offensive
from Zambia.21 According to Nkomo, at the very moment ZAPU planned to
launch the assault on his orders from London, Rhodesian aircraft bombed several
strategic bridges over the Zambezi River; Nkomo believed British intelligence in
London had leaked the information to the Rhodesian military (Nkomo 1984).
Nkomo’s recourse in the event of conference failure was severely handicapped. He
committed to the Lancaster House Accords, and campaigned for the April 1980
elections in which he would do poorly.22 Paradoxically, the Rhodesian forces, by
jockeying for dominance on the battlefield in order to strengthen Muzorewa’s
hand in London, actually undermined the chances that the Patriotic Front would
walk out of the Conference and thus leading to a separate agreement between
Britain and Muzorewa. As the Rhodesian forces penetrated further into Zambia
and Mozambique in late 1979, Presidents Kaunda and Machel placed ever more
pressure on the Patriotic Front to negotiate (Godwin and Hancock 1993: 261).
Eventually, the delegations were hemmed in on all sides; their gamble to hedge
for the failure of negotiations on the battlefield only served to redouble their
opponents’ commitment to a negotiated solution. Saving face outside of the con-
ference room was no longer an option.

Conclusion
Lord Christopher Soames, the last British colonial governor in Africa, arrived in
Salisbury, Rhodesia on December 12, 1979. Upon Muzorewa’s resignation, the
colony of Southern Rhodesia, in rebellion for over fourteen years, reverted to
British rule. On December 15, Muzorewa’s delegation initialed the report and
ceasefire agreement, and two days later Mugabe and Nkomo assented. The report
received royal approval the next day. At a formal ceremony on December 21, Car-
rington and the two delegations signed the Lancaster House Accord. The guns fell
silent at midnight (Wiseman and Taylor 1981: 13, 15).

21)
Quoting a ZAPU delegate on the dangers of escalating the war (Stedman 1991: 174). Davidow writes
that Carrington had access to first-rate intelligence, which “increased British self-confidence and fostered
a tougher negotiating attitude” (Davidow 1984: 106).
22)
Nkomo took 20 seats to Mugabe’s 57 in the April 1980 elections. Nkomo claims the vote was not fair.
“That my party should have won not a single seat in Salisbury, and only twenty seats in the whole western
strip from Kariba right down to Beitbridge, I could not believe and still do not believe,” he recalled.
(Nkomo 1984: 210). By shifting his blame to the system, he explained away his poor results to protect his
standing in the eyes of his supporters. This highlights once again the value of face-saving in mediation: by
blaming the technique, one might prevent attack on the substance.


Mugabe’s surprising landslide victory in April 1980 might well have derailed
a less durable agreement. Potential spoilers, such as Nkomo’s ZAPU forces, the
Rhodesian white community, the South African government, and even anti-
communist political elements in the United States or the United Kingdom gener-
ally respected the agreement and did not attempt to destabilize the country. In
the immediate future, the Accord was a success: the ceasefire held, the elections
were judged largely free and fair, and a democratically-elected party won black
majority rule and formally assumed the reins of government on April 18, 1980
(Wiseman and Taylor 1981: 93). One commonly-raised criticism is that the
Lancaster House constitution blocked the vast societal restructuring promised by
the Patriotic Front’s revolutionary rhetoric, causing an inherently unstable situa-
tion in which the will of a politically mobilized population could not find suffi-
cient gratification (Davidow 1984: 98). History has questioned this criticism. The
provision for 20 white seats in a 100–seat legislature for a period of seven years
was particularly striking, Hatchard (1991: 81) recalls, but the ruling party “com-
plied strictly with the terms of the Constitution” and did not attempt to abolish
the white seats until September 27, 1987. Despite having a majority of the votes
in parliament, and nearly two-thirds after the 1985 elections, Mugabe’s political
party was faithful to the Lancaster House constitution until the provisions expired.
Because the parties to Lancaster House had the opportunity to save face with
their supporters and the opposing delegations, the parties were able to drastically
close the distance between them and come to a workable agreement. Both delega-
tions blamed the mediator’s tactics and strategy while committing to the mediator’s
proposals; both delegations engaged in harsh rhetoric in public while remaining
flexible in private; and both delegations profited immensely from the participa-
tion of Ramphal and his colleagues when they needed a face-saving buffer between
their concession and Carrington. Muzorewa was able to resign as prime minister
and commit to new elections because of Carrington’s assurances that he could
win and receive international recognition as the rightful prime minister of the
country. Mugabe committed to a ceasefire because of Carrington’s promise to use
a United Kingdom-backed force to maintain security during disarmament. The
moderation shown by the military commanders Walls and Tongogara in conjunc-
tion with the Front Line presidents helped sway the more radical political figures
and lent military realism to political aspirations.
Lord Carrington also helped Britain save face in a crisis which was at least
in part of the colonial power’s own making. With Lord Carrington’s directive
mediation, “Britain gained what it had sought unsuccessfully for fifteen years, an
honorable way out of the Rhodesian imbroglio” (Davidow 1984: 97). While
Carrington’s delegation may have been strong and united, British government
policy and public opinion were as divided as the unraveling delegations represent-
ing the Rhodesian combatants.23 Carrington’s “unapologetically aristocratic blend
23)
“[O]f the three delegations that assembled on September 10 at Lancaster House, only the British were


of self-confidence, no-nonsense, and civility” has “given a weak Britain the confi-
dence, with Commonwealth help, to move to centre stage again” (Economist,
Nov. 17, 1979). Carrington allowed Britain to diplomatically draw the curtain on
its African Empire.
In order to help the two negotiating sides close the gap between them and
come to an acceptable agreement, Carrington committed Britain to providing
substantial assistance to the transitional regime. The introduction of British troops
to provide security was a major concession on behalf of Britain to the Patriotic
Front. The commitment of Britain to helping reimburse the Zimbabwean gov-
ernment for buying out white-owned land was also risky. Carrington had never
been popular with the Tory Right and by foiling the Right’s efforts to recognize
the Muzorewa regime, he “increased his political vulnerability” within the Con-
servative Party, Davidow (1984: 97) writes. Britain, and the Conservative Party in
particular, had to save face for the commitments it made to a Marxist guerrilla
regime in Africa. “Carrington’s reputation was burnished domestically and inter-
nationally in the short run,” but the Tory Right would have its revenge. It is
plausible that “Carrington paid for his [Zimbabwe] victory with his Falklands
resignation” after the Argentine invasion (Davidow 1984: 97–98). Britain, like
the other two delegations, saved face by sacrificing the mediator.
Saving face is the effort by a negotiator to maintain legitimacy and reputation
among the constituency on whose behalf she is negotiating while making conces-
sions that ultimately weaken that constituency’s bargaining position. Where a
negotiator’s base is insecure, divided, or unsupportive of attempts at resolution,
the constituency will likely be far more sensitive to bargaining concessions that
weaken its position. The negotiator’s ability to bargain will become more con-
strained. The need to save face becomes more urgent and more difficult if a work-
able agreement is to result.
With control over the agenda, pacing, and performance of a negotiation and
with access to leverage that can increase the odds of compliance, a strong media-
tor is able to accept at least some of the political cost of the bargain. The Lancaster
House Conference involved two parties that were both at the height of their
political vulnerability to rapidly disintegrating constituencies. A strong mediator
role can minimize loss to parties’ political capital since the mediator can accept
responsibility for concessions, engage in symbolic public confrontation with the

able to present a unified stance. The other two teams were burdened with internal dissension and distrust”
(Davidow 1984: 49). However, some of Thatcher’s closest allies were strongly opposed to Carrington’s
meddlesome negotiations. The Suez Group in Parliament had “oppos[ed] every step in the dissolution of
the African empire,” vigilant as they were of a feeble foreign policy. In 1979, these influential conserva-
tives were sharply pressing Thatcher on recognition of Muzorewa’s government (Charlton 1990: 12–13).
One member of the Suez Group, Julian Amery, memorably recalled: “Neville Chamberlain and Anthony
Eden were appeasing an enemy, or an adversary, of Britain. It was arguable, from their point of view, that
this was a gamble that might pay off. What we did at Lancaster House was not to appease, but to turn
round and punish ourselves. It was a masochistic exercise.” (Quoted in Charlton 1990: 16–17).


negotiating parties, and facilitate retreat from combative, hard-line positions
in private.
A strong mediator comes with her own vulnerabilities. A mediator wielding
high leverage and operating from her own script cannot lose face before the nego-
tiating parties lest they challenge her authority or call her bluff. Given Lord Car-
rington’s power at the Conference and his own sharply cleft constituency, he
needed a mechanism by which he could gauge reactions on possible proposals,
target the pragmatists and moderates on each delegation, and find political cover
when he exposed his own vulnerabilities. Having a shadow mediator in Sir Ramphal,
who could seek concessions that Carrington himself could not solicit and com-
municate with actors such as the Front Line presidents that Carrington could not
reach, helped Carrington preserve face with Britain’s Commonwealth allies and
the right wing of the Tory party. Ramphal had his own institutional interests to
protect, particularly the Lusaka arrangement agreed to by the Thatcher govern-
ment calling for fresh elections and the restoration of British rule. Ramphal was
able to use his own bargaining position to extract concessions from Carrington,
most notably with the composition of the election observer contingent and the
monitoring force. At times, Ramphal and Carrington negotiated between them-
selves on behalf of the two delegations. As dual mediators, Ramphal and Car-
rington were also proxy negotiators, which balanced Carrington’s (and Thatcher’s)
perceived bias toward the Muzorewa delegation.
In the end, the agreement stood. An ambitious, newly-elected government agreed
to stand down, and a guerrilla force that had vowed sweeping revolution laid down
arms. A mediator sensitive to the face concerns of the delegations drew the two sides
out of their impasse. The delegations’ ability to preserve their legitimacy before their
constituencies made the agreement itself look legitimate to the bulk of the popula-
tion in Rhodesia. Potential spoilers largely accepted it. And the dramatic experi-
ment that was Rhodesia came to a hopeful conclusion as a new Zimbabwe.

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