And Now for Oil

The stakes were rising in Ian Smith's daring game against the British. Rhodesians jammed the downtown streets of Salisbury and Bulawayo in a carefree holiday shopping spree, while shopkeepers demonstrated their support of the poker-faced Prime Minister by decorating their windows with his picture, draped in tinsel and purple bunting. But in the rest of Africa, black men were lacing their indignation at Smith's breakaway regime with ugly threats.

Harold Wilson was on the spot. None of the mild economic sanctions he had imposed seemed to be having the desired effect of forcing Smith's regime to topple or recant. Demanding faster results, 35 delegates from the often divided Organization of African Unity met in Addis Ababa three weeks ago and passed a resolution calling on its members to break off diplomatic relations with Britain on Dec. 15 unless Wilson brought Smith to heel. The demand seemed pointless and futile enough; nonetheless when the date fell due, six nations acted on it.

Need for Calm. First to go was Guinea's flamboyant Sekou Toure. Infinitely more distressing to No. 10 Downing Street was the break made by Tanzania's Julius Nyerere, a Commonwealth member and a moderate. Genuinely reluctant, Nyerere acted on what he obviously considered to be a moral question, made it clear that he hoped to remain in the Commonwealth and even resume relations with Britain if Rhodesia's rebellion was put down. But for the moment, he was breaking with Britain. So were Ghana, Mali, Egypt and the Sudan; there were signs that others would follow.

Kenneth Kaunda of Zambia, another moderate, was also displaying disturbing signs of irritation. For a month, he had been asking Britain to send troops across into Rhodesia to "protect" the Kariba power station, on the southern side of the Zambezi. Britain refused. Last week Kaunda announced that he would send his next request, if necessary, to Moscow.

The last thing Britain wants is troops from other nations on Central African soil. Yet one of Africa's elder statesmen, Jomo Kenyatta of Kenya, was also working up to a similar demand. Kenyatta petitioned the U.N. Security Council to declare embargoes on Rhodesia under Chapter VII of the U.N. Charter, which would most likely require a U.N. force to police them. Britain does have a veto in the Security Council but the General Assembly can also vote to send such a force.

Harold Wilson arrived at U.N. headquarters in New York last week to appeal for reason. "I beseech this assembly," said he, "to give us time to deal with this situation. Calm, cool counsels are more likely to settle this issue. If passions take control, this mad action could be the beginning of a new and more dangerous conflict, unlike any in world history." Before he began to speak, 25 African delegates (including eight Commonwealth representatives) had walked out on him. Snapped Tanzania's Ambassador John Malecela: "Africa feels the United Kingdom is stalling."

Support from Lyndon. The next day, following consultations in Washington with Lyndon Johnson, Wilson imposed an embargo on all oil shipped by British nationals to Rhodesia. The embargo drew instant complaints in London, where right-wing Tories are already protesting that Wilson is being too severe on Smith and "our kith and kin." Nonetheless, the embargo subjects violators to maximum legal penalties of six months in jail and a $1,400 fine. The U.S. "welcomed and supported" the move, promised to ask U.S. companies and citizens to voluntarily comply. The London headquarters of Royal Dutch/Shell ordered the 20,000-ton tanker Staberg, carrying a cargo of Shell oil destined for Rhodesia to the Portuguese colony of Mozambique, to change its course.

Oil for landlocked Zambia normally passes through Rhodesia--and Ian Smith's first response was to embargo it in turn. Both the U.S. and Britain had expected that. The R.A.F. was already preparing to airlift supplies to Zambia, and the U.S. promised to provide supplementary aircraft. From London, Wilson's Deputy Prime Minister George Brown telephoned both Kaunda and Nyerere, who agreed to the plan.

The big question was what effect the embargo would have on Rhodesia. Rhodesia uses only 280,000 tons a year, virtually all of it piped in from the port of Beira in the Portuguese colony of Mozambique to a new refinery at Umtali on the Rhodesian border. Normally, the nation has only a six-week reserve, but there are signs that Ian Smith has been quietly stockpiling a six-month supply. This would not be too hard, for oil supplies only 27% of Rhodesia's energy, primarily for autos and airplanes, with the bulk of its factories, utilities and its trains still coal-powered.

There are also two large loopholes in the wall that Wilson is seeking to build around Rhodesia: South Africa and Portugal, which share borders with Ian Smith's rebellious land. In Washington, British and U.S. officials stoutly maintained that both countries would uphold the embargo rather than risk diplomatic breaks with the Western powers. But would they? "This is obviously an internal affair between Britain and Rhodesia," declared a Lisbon official. "If tankers arrive in Mozambique with oil for Rhodesia, Portuguese authorities will not interfere." South Africa maintained a stolid silence. But there was small doubt where its true sympathies lay. And even though 90% of the refineries in South Africa are controlled by British and American companies, the smaller operators could still easily meet Rhodesian requirements.

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