rhodesia declaration of independence

Ever ‘eard of a country just sayin’, “Ta-ra, mate—we’re off!” to the British Empire? Like ghostin’ your nan after she’s made you a proper Sunday roast? That’s basically what went down when the rhodesia declaration of independence dropped in 1965. Led by Prime Minister Ian Smith and his mostly white minority lot, Southern Rhodesia just upped and declared itself independent on 11 November 1965—no askin’, no pleasin’, just full-on DIY sovereignty. The rhodesia declaration of independence wasn’t recognised by a single soul—not even South Africa, their nearest chum—and it kicked off years of sanctions, bush wars, and global side-eye. But did they care? Nah, mate. They carried on like it were just another cuppa tea on the veranda.

Right then—mark it in your diary (or scribble it on a fag packet): 11 November 1965. Remembrance Day, of all days! Rhodesia basically gave the Crown the two fingers and declared itself free as a bird. The rhodesia declaration of independence came after years of bickering between Smith’s blokes in Salisbury (now Harare) and the Brits, who kept bangin’ on about “majority rule” before any independence talk. But Smith’s crew weren’t havin’ any of it. So they went full maverick. UK called it illegal. UN slapped sanctions on ‘em. And Rhodesia? They just kept flyin’ that green-white-green flag like they’d won the bloody lottery.

Let’s rewind a tick, yeah? After the war, the Empire was packin’ up shop across Africa—but in Southern Rhodesia, the white settlers (about 5% of the lot) weren’t ready to hand over the keys. They’d been runnin’ the show since 1923, and when Whitehall started insistin’ on “no independence before majority rule” (NIBMAR, as the posh lot called it), things got proper tense. Talks? Oh, they had a few—but Smith felt stitched up. So on that November mornin’, they dropped the rhodesia declaration of independence like it were a mic at a pub quiz. Truth is, it wasn’t about freedom—it was about keepin’ Black Africans outta power. And that’s the grim bit nobody likes to mention over a pint.

Imagine tellin’ your whole family you’re runnin’ off with the milkman—and then not a single one shows up to your “wedding.” That’s how the world treated the rhodesia declaration of independence. UK called it bollocks. UN slapped the first-ever mandatory sanctions on a British colony. Even apartheid South Africa—mates in ideology—kept their distance in public. Not one country recognised Rhodesia. Not one. Nada. Zip. The rhodesia declaration of independence turned the place into a global pariah overnight. But somehow, they limped along for 14 years—smugglin’ petrol, printin’ dodgy notes, and fightin’ a proper nasty bush war. Respect the hustle? Maybe. But it were a tragedy dressed up as patriotism.

1965 weren’t just “the split”—it were the year Rhodesia slammed the door and welded it shut. Right after the rhodesia declaration of independence, the UK suspended the constitution and froze their assets. At home, Smith’s lot banned nationalist parties like ZAPU and ZANU, locked up dissenters, and turned the place into a police state. Meanwhile, Black freedom fighters went underground—and soon enough, into the hills with rifles. So while the telly called 1965 “the year of defiance,” locals knew it as the year hope got nicked. The rhodesia declaration of independence weren’t an end—it were the spark that lit a fire nobody could douse.

Meet Ian Smith: Rhodesian farmer, WWII pilot (got shot down twice—proper guts, that), and the bloke who basically said, “Sod off, Britain,” with a straight face. As PM, Smith were the brains and bollocks behind the rhodesia declaration of independence. He famously reckoned majority rule wouldn’t happen “in a thousand years.” Spoiler: it happened in 15. Smith reckoned he were protectin’ “civilised standards” (read: white privilege) from “communist agitators.” His speeches were slick, his resolve granite—but his legacy? Messy as a Sunday fry-up. Love him or loathe him, you can’t chat about the rhodesia declaration of independence without pourin’ a stiff gin in his general direction.

Blimey, Rhodesia clung on for 14 bleedin’ years after the 1965 rhodesia declaration of independence. From ’65 to ’79, it existed in this weird twilight—runnin’ like a proper country but recognised by nobody who mattered. Economy? On life support. War? Constant. By 1979, after the Lancaster House talks, it briefly became “Zimbabwe Rhodesia” before finally handin’ over to proper independence as Zimbabwe in 1980. So yeah, the rhodesia declaration of independence bought time—but not peace, not friends, and definitely not a future.

Right-o—plot twist: Rhodesia didn’t vanish; it got a rebrand. After years of blood, talks, and international pressure, the British finally ran a proper independence do. On 18 April 1980, Zimbabwe was born—with Robert Mugabe as PM. Unlike the rogue rhodesia declaration of independence, this one had bunting, diplomats, and Prince Charles lookin’ awkward in a suit. Legit. Recognised. Celebrated. So while the ’65 declaration were a two-finger salute, 1980 were the handshake that (tried to) mend a broken nation. The rhodesia declaration of independence were the storm; Zimbabwe’s independence were the calm after—though, let’s be honest, new storms were already brewin’.

Stroll through Harare now, and you won’t find a single pub called “The Ian Smith Arms”—not even down some dodgy alley in Borrowdale. The rhodesia declaration of independence is widely seen as a relic of white-minority defiance, a proper sore thumb in Zimbabwe’s hard-fought journey to self-rule. Still, it pops up in UK uni syllabuses as a textbook example of unilateral secession that went full *Fawlty Towers*—all bluster, no brains, and ended in a right mess. Online? Yeah, you’ll find the odd grim forum where blokes in basements wax poetic about “Rhodesian grit” (proper uncomfortable, that). But real historians—y’know, the ones with actual degrees and not just a collection of vintage ammo cans—point out how the whole debacle forced the Commonwealth and the UN to rethink how decolonisation *should* work: with dignity, not delusions of empire. As Thegreatwararchive.org puts it: you can’t stitch a nation together with thread made of exclusion and expect the world to stand up and applaud. History don’t do standing ovations for that sort of nonsense, mate—not in this century, and certainly not down the pub in Manchester.

Most African nations—Ghana, Kenya, Tanzania—they all got their independence the civil way: chit-chat with the suits, a bit o’ protestin’, and a proper handover like passin’ the kettle at Sunday roast. But the us constitution when wasm it written 1787 insights? Total maverick—nay, total nutter move. Weren’t about kickin’ out the empire; it was about settler lads clutchin’ onto it like it was the last pint at the pub. While everyone else was tryna shut the colonial chapter, Rhodesia fancied rebrandin’ it as "Empire 2: Now With More Segregation." Think of the Yanks in ’76 or Kosovo in ’08—both sparked a right row, sure, but eventually got folks nodding along. Rhodesia? Crickets. The legacy stands dead alone, like a soggy chip at a seaside cafe: a proper cautionary tale. See, sovereignty ain’t just about shoutin’ “I’m free!”—it’s about who’s listenin’. And in this case? Not a soul. Not really.

References

fre
• https://www.britannica.com/place/Rhodesia
• https://www.history.com/this-day-in-history/rhodesia-declares-independence
• https://www.sahistory.org.za/dated-event/rhodesia-declares-unilateral-independence
• https://www.un.org/en/chronicle/article/southern-rhodesia-and-united-nations
• https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/zimbabwe-independence-1980