The year 1994 began with Sir John Swan’s surprise bid for independence. It ended with turmoil in the UBP following the withdrawal of the Premier’s first Referendum Bill. Independence consumed so much of the government’s time and filled so much of the papers, a visitor from outer space would have thought nothing else had been going on in Bermuda throughout the calendar year, and he would not have been far wrong. But one or two other things did happen. There was liberalisation of exchange control, and Dr John Stubbs managed to steer through Parliament a Bill legalising homosexual acts in private between consenting males. Those who voted for that Bill showed considerable courage in the face of a fierce campaign mounted by the black churches against the measure. Stubbs died shortly after the Bill became law and in the resultant by-election Grant Gibbons took his place as the member for Paget East. Grant Gibbons was the minister in charge of negotiations with the Americans following their decision to close the US naval air station and give up virtually all the land leased to America in 1940.

The American decision to close the base followed a report by Sam Donaldson, who made the place look like a holiday camp for retired admirals. Although withdrawal by the Americans was going to happen sooner or later, it would have been nice if it had been delayed for a little longer. It was certainly going to be a very costly business.

In 1992 the US, Canadian and British bases together generated income of $393 million and public service revenue of $14.1 million. In addition the US through their running of the airport provided $8.4 million in services free of charge. With all these additional burdens the Bermudians were determined that the Americans should have to pay to right environmental damage on the base caused by leaking oil tanks and the dumping of waste. The British government in supporting this was, of course, accepting its own responsibility to carry out a clean-up at HMS Malabar where oil had been discovered in underground caves. It had apparently been dumped by ships or leaked from the Shell oil tanks on the site. The MOD were very much less forthcoming when it came to the severance terms to be offered to the civilian employees at Malabar at the time of closure. The Bermuda Industrial Union (BIU) argued, I thought with force, that there could be no excuse for treating these employees differently from other government employees in Bermuda, but that was what the MOD were now bent on doing; and my warnings that industrial action might well follow if they ignored the workers’ claim went unheeded. The date set for a parade on Front Street to mark the Royal Navy’s 200-year presence in Bermuda and the closure of HMS Malabar was 18 February, and in a letter to the MOD I pointed out that if the dispute was not settled by then, there would be a countermarch and demonstration, reducing the occasion to a shambles. There was even the possibility of violence. I added that I thought it quite obscene that money should be spent flying a Royal Marines band out to Bermuda when the same money could be used to meet the employees’ claim; and I gave notice that if the money to settle the dispute was not forthcoming, I would (a) cancel the parade and (b) withdraw my invitation to Vice-Admiral Tod to visit the Island and stay with me at Government House. That did the trick.

There was another little drama towards the end of 1994. In 1990 Bill Down, formerly general secretary of the Missions to Seamen became Bishop of Bermuda, having been appointed by the Archbishop of Canterbury after the Synod had failed to agree on a Bermudian. When, however, Bill arrived at the airport to take up his appointment he was somewhat dismayed to be handed a work permit valid for one year, and later learned with astonishment that the minister, Jack Sharpe, had ruled that the work permit could not be renewed unless the clergy of the diocese granted their support for the renewal application. A year passed and Bill was summoned to a meeting of the clergy and, after some discussion, was asked to withdraw while judgement was passed on him. Those present then graciously agreed to allow their bishop, appointed for life by the Archbishop of Canterbury, to remain. Bill told me afterwards that huge damage to his authority was done by this exercise and he vowed that he would not suffer the same humiliation again. So, in 1994, when the work permit had only six months left, he asked for my help. Strictly speaking work permits were nothing to do with me. They did not come within my reserved powers. But I did think the government was getting into very deep constitutional waters, and I told John Irving Pearman, the minister, that I thought it quite outrageous that bishops should be subject to work permits in the first place; and it was certainly unwise of the government to get involved in the politics of the Church. Eventually, the minister accepted what I had to say but Bishop Bill, while getting his work permit, was thoroughly sickened by the whole business and when a job in England came along he took it. I could not blame him.

Now back to independence. After his setbacks in the summer of 1994 the Premier had announced his plans for a Green Paper and in the autumn of 1994 a committee of ministers was appointed to be responsible for its production. Jack Sharpe, who in 1977 had had a hand in an earlier Green Paper, was to be adviser to the committee. If the new Green Paper was going to be anything like the earlier one, it was not going to point out any possible disadvantages of independence. So it turned out; and, as a result, attracted little but ridicule.

The committee’s estimate of the cost of independence – between $800,000 and $2.3 million – was extraordinary, being similar to that put forward in the 1977 Green Paper without even an uplift to cover inflation in the intervening years. There was no mention of safeguards to prevent an independent Bermuda suffering from the abuse of power and corruption which had proved such a problem when other small island communities had gone independent. There was no acknowledgment that international business set store by the British connection, considering it some guarantee of political stability. There was a reference to Bermuda receiving ‘expert advice and assistance from the United Kingdom’ with regard to the Bermuda Regiment, but nothing about what might or might not happen after independence; and there was a wholly inadequate passage on citizenship, with no mention that the UK Parliament would be unlikely to pass an Independence Bill which did not give the right to Bermuda nationality to the very large number of longterm residents at present denied it.

On the police there was no acknowledgment that the sharing of power between the Governor and the government of Bermuda was a safeguard against political interference in police operations or discussion on how such interference might be avoided on independence. And when it came to Bermuda on independence ‘assuming full responsibility for the conduct of its foreign affairs’ the estimate of the cost of overseas representation was again little different from that put forward in 1977 with, as the newspapers noted with glee, no provision for a bicycle let alone a motor car for either Bermuda’s Ambassador in Washington or its High Commissioner in London.

We had warned the FCO before the Green Paper committee went to London that there were bound to be questions about the possibility of a new relationship between Britain and the remaining dependent territories after the return of Hong Kong to China. Black people in Bermuda greatly resented the fact that, while most white Bermudians were British citizens, most black Bermudians were not and were subject to immigration control. There was a strongly held view that after 1997 and the return of Hong Kong to China the total population of the remaining dependent territories would be so small (about 160,000) there would no longer be any immigration control justification for people belonging to a dependent territory having a different citizenship from those who belonged to the mother country, and we could revert to a system not unlike that which appertained prior to the British Nationality Act when we shared a common citizenship of the United Kingdom and Colonies. That is what eventually did happen under the Labour government.

At this time, however, the government’s attitude was that it was too early to consider what options might be available after 1997, and we painstakingly worked out and settled with the Foreign Office a form of words to go in the Green Paper to reflect this. It was decided that it should say that there had not yet been any discussions within government as to whether there might be a change in the relationship between Britain and the remaining dependent territories after the return of Hong Kong to China in 1997, that complex issues were involved; but there might well be the opportunity for a reassessment of UK/dependent territories policy at that time.

In February Freddy Wade, as Leader of the Opposition, set out for London to present the PLP petition against the police appointments and when there he raised the subject of the Green Paper. Tony Baldry, the minister, should have told him that insofar as the Green Paper purported to reflect British government policy, it did so correctly and he had nothing to add. But it seems that instead he said that, in spite of what was in the Green Paper, there was in his view no possibility of a change in citizenship post-1997, and his remarks were repeated by Freddy at a press conference.

That was embarrassing enough, but Freddy went even further and said that Tony Baldry had agreed with him that it would be most unusual to grant independence without a general election. If the minister had said anything like that, he would of course have been casting doubt on the appropriateness of using a referendum to determine whether the people of Bermuda wanted independence and was doing so in spite of our having, with the agreement of the Foreign Office, told the Bermuda government from the outset that a referendum was a perfectly legitimate way to determine the people’s view. Worst of all, Freddy announced what I already knew – that the minister was planning to come to Bermuda at Easter to clarify a number of other matters about which Freddy had expressed concern.

Freddy at once seized on all this as an argument against the Referendum Bill being allowed to proceed until the minister came at Easter to explain Her Majesty’s Government’s position. John Swan was up in arms, and we thought it politic to advise the Foreign Office that it would be best if the Baldry visit was postponed.

At the end of March 1995, the Referendum Bill was due to have its second reading, but with two UBP members, Ann DeCouto and Trevor Moniz, saying they were prepared to abstain and another in hospital, John realised that if he wanted to get his Bill he would have to compromise, and after many comings and goings he agreed to it being amended along the lines of the Scottish and Welsh Referendum Bills. The referendum result would not provide a mandate for independence unless 40 per cent of the electorate voted ‘yes’. Freddy Wade announced that the PLP would boycott the whole exercise and tell Labour supporters to stay at home.

As polling day, fixed for 15 August 1995, drew near, people began to sport button badges. One in great demand read ‘Better Queen Elizabeth than King John’; but the progress of Hurricane Felix was attracting as much interest as the progress of the campaign. Gilly spent her time either taking the pictures down from the walls of Government House and putting them under the beds when Hurricane Felix was heading straight for us or putting the pictures back on the walls when Felix veered off to the left or right.

By noon on Sunday 13 August, Felix had become a category three storm with maximum winds of 110 knots and gusts of up to 135 knots. It would be within fifty miles of Bermuda at 3 a.m. on polling day, but in fact the storm passed the Island late on the 14th and although by 1 a.m. on the 15th the worst was over, the causeway to St George’s was damaged and impassable. Early that morning deputy governor Peter Willis’s secretary was up at police headquarters for the meeting of the Emergency Measures Organisation with Leo Mills, the Cabinet Secretary, and the Premier.

I was at Government House awaiting a report from the deputy governor on the damage from the storm and at 8 a.m. he rang. ‘Things do not seem too bad,’ he said, ‘but the causeway to St George’s has been breached and for the moment there is no way of getting across to St George’s.’ I then asked how the arrangements for the referendum were faring and, to my great surprise, he replied that it had been postponed indefinitely and that, after meeting with John Swan, Leo Mills had gone on the radio to say so. I told Peter Willis he had better get Leo Mills up to Government House at once.

To my mind the situation was dire. If the referendum was postponed for some months, not only had one to consider the economic damage that might follow, but months more campaigning with fiery speeches, demonstrations and marches might well end in violence. My job, therefore, was to make sure that by hook or by crook the referendum took place and the plain intention of Parliament was carried out.

Leo arrived and I asked him by what right he had postponed the referendum. He said it wasn’t a question of legal authority but a question of whether the referendum could take place when one at least of the returning officers, St George’s, simply could not get to his polling station. I asked why someone in St George’s could not act as returning officer and why the polling station should not be opened later in the day when no doubt someone would be able to get from Hamilton to St George’s. To that, Leo, a decent and honourable man, who had simply not thought the thing through, had no answer. I told him that in my view he should take whatever action was necessary to bring into play Section 44 of the Parliamentary Elections Act 1978 so that voting could take place next day. That meant ringing Marlene Christopher, the parliamentary registrar, and telling her to instruct the returning officers to get to their posts.

While all this was going on, a number of other people were arriving at Government House, all apparently coming to urge me to see that the law was obeyed and the referendum took place. Albert and Louise Jackson, Jim King and Eldon Trimingham were to the fore. Albert, they thought, should speak for them all and demand that if polling could not take place that day it must take place the next; and off he went to deliver that message over the air. Albert was by nature slow to stir but when he realised things were not being done properly he spoke out fearlessly; and he did so on this occasion in suitably sonorous and weighty tones. Meanwhile John Swan, who at Prospect had been protesting loudly that whether the referendum should go ahead was a matter for the civil servants, had at the same time been making it plain that his preference was for an indefinite postponement. He then had breakfast with his friend Edgar Wilkinson, who later told the waiting world what he had presumably been told by the Premier – that the referendum would be held in December.

That afternoon Ann DeCouto made an application in the High Court for an order that the parliamentary registrar be required to carry out her function in accordance with the Independence Referendum Act 1995 and a declaration that the Secretary of the Cabinet’s purported postponing of the poll was unlawful. The Attorney-General resisted the application and refused to give an undertaking that polling would take place the following morning, but even while he was talking returning officers were setting out from the government building on the way to the polling stations.

John Swan then summoned an emergency meeting of the Cabinet. What happened there is by no means clear, but just before 7 p.m. a formal announcement was made by the government that polling would indeed take place the following day.

The next day was a bit of an anticlimax. The polling stations opened promptly at 10 a.m. and voting continued in an orderly fashion throughout the day. Due to the crazy counting system (each individual voting paper was held up for inspection by the scrutineers and, when they had all had the chance to establish that it was indeed a voting paper and not an invitation to the vicarage tea party, was placed on the appropriate pile), the final result was not announced until 6.20 on the morning of the 17th. Even then there was a discrepancy between the total votes cast and the figure arrived at by adding together the ‘yes’ votes, the ‘no’ votes and the spoiled papers; but a clear enough question had been posed on the ballot paper (Are you in favour of independence for Bermuda?) and a clear enough answer had been given by the people.

Predictably, Freddy Wade claimed a victory for the PLP and his boycott. If, however, the turnout had been 80 per cent (and it was only 78 per cent at the 1993 general election) instead of 58.8 per cent and if every single additional voter had voted ‘yes’, the result would still have been ‘no’. In fact, in comparison with previous referendums, the poll was high: in 1990 only 32.6 per cent of the electorate had turned out to vote in the referendum on capital punishment.

We had to leave the Island the same day and a short time later John Swan tendered his resignation to the deputy governor.

The attention of the press was focused not only on the result but on what one journalist described as the constitutionally jaw-dropping shenanigans of the previous two days. When asked if Bermudian democracy had gone off the rails on the Tuesday morning, Jim Woolridge, a senior and well respected UBP member opposed to independence said: ‘I wouldn’t say “off the rails”, but it took a turn not in keeping with the best that civilisation has to offer.’ Dr Dyer commented: ‘The government is engaged in a crazy, banana republic-like activity. If there ever was an example of why this isn’t the time to go independent, this is the example.’

After the result the reaction of the British media was interesting. Most commentators seemed genuinely delighted at what had occurred and reflected in their pieces the pleasure felt by people in England that there were some in the world who were actually proud of and wanted to maintain the British connection.

My own role received some praise. Under the heading ‘GOVERNOR CATCHES THE BREEZE’ Mandrake in the Sunday Telegraph wrote:

Martin Vander Weyer in the Daily Telegraph wrote:

At home in England I was surprised to learn a few days later that the dry, pedantic and white David Saul had been elected leader by the Parliamentary Party – by a clear majority of two to one over Jim Woolridge who had been billed as the people’s choice. The anti-independence group then overplayed its hand, demanding far more in terms of offices than they could reasonably expect and, by lobbying as a team to get for their team what they thought was their due, they gave David Saul reason to say that he was not going to repeat the mistakes of John Swan and have a party-within-a-party. So at the end of the day, those who had won the referendum were almost entirely absent from the new government.

The PLP said they were determined to get to the bottom of the goings-on on polling day and as soon as Parliament met would move the setting up of a commission of inquiry. David Saul delivered a pre-emptive strike and advised me to set up a commission forthwith. I did so under the chairmanship of the Rt Hon. Telford Georges, retired judge of the Court of Appeal of Bermuda and Law Reform commissioner for the Bahamas, and when the commission reported I was relieved but not unduly surprised to find no criticism of my intervention on the 15th and, while there was comment on the failure of the government to make a public announcement until after the 5.30 p.m. Cabinet meeting, which magnified the suspicions that something devious was afoot, there was, the commission said, no evidence of political interference.

There was then a piece in the Royal Gazette on the 28 November about the outcome of the referendum in which there was reference to the work done by Governors’ wives:

Gilly deserved this recognition.

That autumn Rastafarians on the Island had started coming up through the garden from the north shore in order to smoke pot in the shade of the princess palm planted by Haile Selassie. The police wanted to clap them in irons but, thinking that that might have unfortunate repercussions, I made a bargain with their leaders. They could come up once a month and I, while not prepared to smoke pot with them, would join them in a prayer and a dance round the tree. This happened once, but I think they found my presence embarrassing and inhibiting and they faded out of our lives.

At about this time Gilly and I went to breakfast with Norma Astwood, one of the independent members of the Senate, at her house overlooking Flatts. It was a traditional salt cod breakfast, a reminder of the days when Bermudian ships used to rake salt in their de facto colony the Turks Island, trade it for rum in Jamaica and sell some of the rum for cod in Newfoundland before returning home with this most sought-after delicacy. Norma was one great public servant in the black community. Marjorie Bean was another and I was delighted when in my time Marjorie became Bermuda’s first dame, with a tree in Government House garden to prove it. A teacher by profession, she was one of the first women to be appointed to the Legislative Council. Born in 1909, she did not look anything like her age and she spoke with a clipped upper-class accent. There was a very rough chap who when not in gaol worked as a caddy at Mid Ocean, and one day I asked him how he had acquired his most distinguished Oxford accent. ‘From Dr Bean, sir,’ he replied with pride.