by Abbas Milani
In early February 1951, as the movement to nationalize oil was gathering steam, the Shah told officials of the British Embassy that he was in a “rather melancholy mood.” He was worried that the Majlis might pass the nationalization bill, and he would be left with no choice but to dissolve the parliament.38 The Shah listened to the historic March 15 proceedings of the Majlis discussing the nationalization bill on the radio and then told British officials that “he regretted that it had not been possible to arrest the movement which the National Front had inaugurated towards nationalization.”39 He wanted the British government to know that “by regularly intervening” on their behalf on such issues as oil, the purchase of locomotives, and the contract to fix Tehran’s water supply, he had risked “being regarded as unpatriotic by his somewhat Byzantine-minded officials.” 40 The British suspected the Shah of double-talk, if not double-cross, when nearly every member of the Majlis deemed close to him showed up for the historic March 15 vote to ratify the nationalization bill.
The Nationalization Act had been shepherded through the Majlis by Mossadeq. It was by then clear that his hour of glory was near. A month later, on April 26, he accepted the nomination to become prime minister—on the condition that the bill to implement the Nationalization Act should be simultaneously ratified. The nomination was made by Jamal Imami, a member of the Majlis known for his close ties with the Shah. Some have surmised that Imami made the nomination on the assumption that Mossadeq would not accept it. The Tudeh Party saw it as yet another troubling sign of the increasing influence of “American imperialism” in Iran.
The Shah in 1951 was walking a very dangerous tightrope. The British were pressuring him to dissolve the Majlis, declare martial law, and nullify the Nationalization Act.41 They insisted that he must appoint Seyyed Zia as prime minister, and they implicitly threatened that unless he followed their demands, they would not discourage “a campaign against certain of the Shah’s prerogatives” by some of the non-Communist opponents of Mossadeq.42 The meaning of the threat was not lost on the Shah. He knew well that it meant that unless he agreed to the British demand, Seyyed Zia would once again go on the attack against him. To his credit, the Shah resisted these pressures, while at the same time revealing himself in private, particularly with the British, to be an opponent of the nationalization movement.
But in those heady days, the Shah’s views, along with his mood, had violent swings. The more Mossadeq gained power and popularity and the more he succeeded in marginalizing the Shah from the daily political life of the country, the more the Shah became determined to get rid of him. Yet he was at the same time increasingly beset with indecision and inaction, what a Western diplomat called his “Hamlet-like” doubts and paralysis. He wanted senators and members of the Majlis to take responsibility for Mossadeq’s dismissal. He believed that he should bide his time and wait for the moment at which Mossadeq would further isolate himself. He also believed that the only way that he could be involved in getting rid of Mossadeq was through legal channels. As early as May 1950, he had concluded that “there were two enemies of the country: one was the Tudeh and the other was the National Front. Perhaps the latter was more dangerous,” he said, “because it was vague and negative.” 43
When the British ploy to pressure the Shah into fast action on the dismissal of Mossadeq did not work, officials from Whitehall consulted Ann Lambton, by then a professor of Persian Studies in London and a sage on British foreign policy in Iran. Her advice was clear, categorical, and drastic: find a way to remove Mossadeq from power forcefully. He is a demagogue, she said, and the only way Britain would retain its influence in Iran would be through his removal. She also believed that the British government must ultimately handle this matter alone, as in her mind the United States had “neither the experience, nor the psychological” depth to understand Iran—a sentiment much shared in those days by British officials.44 She introduced government officials to Robin Zaehner, a professor-spy, who could help plan and implement her proposed coup against Mossadeq. If Zaehner was one of the British masters of conspiracy against Mossadeq, then the three Rashidian brothers were Zaehner’s chief instruments of mischief. No sooner had Mossadeq come to power than the brothers began to receive large funds from the British to “maintain their agents.” 45
In June 1951, when British efforts to convince the Shah to fire Mossadeq failed, they threatened to attack Iran and take over the oil region of the country: in the words of the Foreign Secretary, “to cow the insolent natives.” 46 The operation, aptly called “Buccaneer,” entailed sending a number of British warships to the waters off the coast of the oil-rich region of Khuzestan and authorized “the use of force, if necessary.” 47 Encouraged by the Truman administration’s strong opposition to the idea of a military solution, the Shah told the British Ambassador that “I will personally lead my soldiers into battle against you if you attack Iran.” 48
The Shah also had another worry. In the July 2, 1951, meeting, the Shah asked about a recent debate on Iran in the House of Commons and the suggestion by Churchill’s son-in-law that “there should be a partition of Persia between Russia and Britain.” The Shah noted that he could not see how in such a case “the Persians could refrain from resisting,” adding moreover that in his view, “Russia would install a communist government for the whole of Persia.” 49 The British even considered the idea of bringing back the Khaz’al family, who had virtually ruled Khuzestan in the early twentieth century, and again making that region an “independent” area under the family’s ostensible rule.
Once the United States was “officially” briefed on the possibility of a British military attack—when the State Department was given a summary of the cabinet meeting authorizing it—the administration went all out to convince Britain to give up its Operation Buccaneer. Truman sent a note to Prime Minister Clement Atlee telling him not to use force but to try to find a negotiated solution to the problem. Secretary of State Dean Acheson and Assistant Secretary George McGhee also tried to dissuade the British. The temptation to engage in what Churchill had churlishly called “the sputter of musketry” was at least partially based on the facile assumption that a “decadent,” “servile” nation like Persia was inherently incapable of launching, much less sustaining, a serious, sustained anti-colonial nationalist movement.50 Mossadeq and his movement, in this jaundiced vision, were nothing but a passing aberration. Mossadeq was a madman, the British believed, and the Iranians as a people too fickle and selfish to remain loyal to him. Britain even toyed with the idea of getting NATO involved in its plan to find a military solution to the conflict.51 At the same time, while the Truman administration was holding the line against a military strike on Iran, it was also beginning to worry about Mossadeq’s future, the possibility that under Tudeh Party pressure, he might push Iran away from the West and either toward neutrality or, worst yet, into the Soviet camp. As early as May 10, 1951, these fears were evident in Acheson’s telegram to the U.S. embassy in Tehran.52
Both Mossadeq and the Shah were playing the same card with the Truman and (later) the Eisenhower administrations, each presenting himself as the last line of defense against the Tudeh and Soviet influence. Mossadeq went so far as to ask for $10 million a month in “financial assistance” from the United States. He threatened that, unless he received the aid, “Iran would collapse” within thirty days and the Tudeh would take over.53 He even tried to blackmail the United States by saying that “if US will not give him the aid,” then he would be forced to “ask for Soviet assistance.”54
The Shah, on the other hand, repeatedly argued that Mossadeq did not have the power, or even the desire, to resist the Tudeh. During the early days of Mossadeq’s tenure, the Shah even suspected Ayatollah Kashani—in these days Mossadeq’s most important ally—of complicity with the Tudeh and the Soviet Union. On August 30, 1951, for example, the Shah told the American Ambassador that “his government had intercepted communications between Kashani and the Russians . . . [Kashani] might be loo
king in the direction of collaboration with the Soviets.”55 The fact that, as Mossadeq became more isolated from the clergy, he was reluctantly forced to depend more and more on the Tudeh Party helped the Shah make his case.
As the two leaders played out their strategies, their relations grew tenser by the day. On July 16, 1952, in a heated meeting with the Shah, Mossadeq demanded full control of the armed forces, threatening to resign and to tell the nation the reason for his resignation, should the Shah refuse to grant him his demand. If I cede the control of the army, the Shah said, I might as well pack my bags and leave the country. The threat, in Mossadeq’s mind, was only a tactical move, as he did not believe the Shah had the courage to bear full responsibility for the resignation of the popular prime minister. He was wrong. Late that night, the Shah accepted Mossadeq’s resignation.
The next day, after the Majlis’s vote of inclination in favor of Qavam, the Shah had no choice but to once again appoint his septuagenarian foe to the post of prime minister. For months, he had resisted such an appointment. Now, under pressure from the British and American Embassies, and from some of his own supporters, he had no choice but to give in. Qavam made two demands of the Shah before he would accept the job. The first was for the Shah to dissolve the Majlis, and the second was to allow the arrest of Kashani. The Shah refused both demands, but Qavam nonetheless accepted the task of forming a new government. It is clear that the Shah neither trusted Qavam nor was willing to sever ties with Kashani. In the words of the British Embassy, these ideas led to the Shah’s decision “not to fully support Qavam.” The fact that Qavam then filled his cabinet with figures known to oppose the Shah further clouded his already tenuous relations with the Shah. On the night of the appointment, the Shah let it be known, particularly to the leaders of the National Front, that he had appointed Qavam under duress.
What further weakened Qavam’s position and chance of survival was his notoriously hard-nosed first manifesto. There is a new sheriff in town, he said, and he would tolerate no dissent. A powerful coalition of Kashani and Mossadeq supporters, as well as members of the Tudeh Party, was formed against Qavam. On the morning of July 21, Qavam again tried to persuade the Shah “to take the measures to establish” law and order. Once again the Shah refused. On that same day, the British First Secretary had tried to not only “play on the Shah’s fears,” but “make him realize that it is by letting Qavam down that he is most likely to bring his own downfall.” Lest the Shah still worry about Qavam’s designs on the throne, the British Ambassador tried to reassure him that no such efforts would be forthcoming.56 But it was all to no avail. By five o’clock in the afternoon of that day, massive demonstrations in Tehran and other provinces, leaving dozens dead and hundreds injured, forced Qavam’s resignation and the reappointment of Mossadeq. The Shah had defeated one foe only to face a far more powerful adversary yet again.57
Though Ayatollah Kashani had played a key role in restoring Mossadeq to power on that day, he also wanted to keep his options open. A few months earlier, he had sent out feelers to both the American Embassy and the Shah. For example, on January 8, 1952, Zaehner, who was working in Tehran at the time, reported rumors that the Shah has achieved “a clear understanding with Kashani.”58 A few months later, Kashani in fact met directly with Court Minister Ala, and after “offering faint praise for Mossadeq,” discussed candidates to succeed him.59
Convinced that he had restored Mossadeq to power, in the months after July 21, Kashani became even more brazen in dictating policy to the government. He wanted women to be forced to wear Islamic covering when entering government offices; he demanded the right to name certain ministers and veto others; finally, he wanted the government to increase pressure on the Baha’i—a nineteenth-century faith that emerged from Iran and whose followers became the bane of Shiite clergy.
Mossadeq resisted nearly every one of Kashani’s demands. The only issue he relented on was women’s suffrage. When in 1952 he was drafting a new election law, women’s groups from around the country had written to him, objecting to the omission of women’s right to vote in the new law. Soon a rumor spread around the country that Mossadeq was contemplating including women’s suffrage in the new law. A number of top clergy wrote to Mossadeq or issued fatwas, suggesting that women’s participation in politics was against Islam and “sure to beget corruption.”60
Moreover, Mossadeq’s increased ties with the Tudeh and the rising star of National Front radicals like Hossein Fatemi, by then the foreign minister, made the clergy in general, and Kashani in particular, more concerned. These tensions all worked to the benefit of the Shah. In fact, in meeting with the British Embassy, the Shah’s close aide, Ernest Perron, tried to claim that the advent and evolution of these rifts were the work of the Shah and the result of his astute politics. In the meantime, lest he appear to be conspiring with the British, on March 4, 1952, the Shah informed the embassy that, henceforth, any meetings between him and embassy officials should go through the Foreign Ministry.61
During these crucial months, the Shah’s most constant companion and, in her own reckoning, the person who repeatedly brought him out of his torpor and urged him to screw his “courage to the sticking point,” was a sixteen-year-old half-Persian, half-German girl whose ignorance of Iranian politics and history was matched only by her beauty and her love of Hollywood glamour.
Soraya, many believe, was the true love of the Shah’s life. The trajectory of his love objects, his “elective affinities,” and the character and qualities of each of his three wives, are in fact telling signposts of his evolving personality and his core values and preferences. If his first wife was chosen by his father’s royal fiat, his second, Soraya, was chosen by his mother and sister, Shams. They had picked her from a picture, and Princess Shams was then dispatched to Europe to get a closer look at this exotic beauty. As Soraya makes amply clear in her refreshingly candid memoir, by the time of her betrothal, intense competition among the female members of the Shah’s family—his sisters and his domineering mother—was at a fever pitch. The privilege of picking a new queen was a coveted prize they all fought over.
After Shams met and approved Soraya, her picture was shown to the Shah, who was immediately smitten. She was half-Persian by blood but profoundly European in sentiment and values. Her mother was German, and her father was a member of the Bakhtiyari tribe. As a child in Isfahan, she had been tutored by a German woman referred to as Frau Mantel, and then moved to the Behesht Ayin School. Even as a child, she showed interest in playing the role of queen—in the school’s production of Cinderella.62 According to the British Consulate in Isfahan, her departure from that city was the result of the unrequited love and unrelenting pursuit of a man—a son of Sarem al-Dowleh, one of the most powerful aristocrats in the city—leading to her parents’ decision to take refuge to Switzerland.
Her stay in Europe might account partly for her shocking disdain for Iran, her remarkable ignorance of its history and culture, and her infatuation with the noble Europe of her imagination. In her personal memoir, she writes, “I was a dunce. I knew next to nothing of the geography, the legends of my country; nothing of its history, nothing of Muslim religion.”63 Her upbringing at the hand of Frau Mantel was entirely Christian and German. That was why when the news of a royal wedding spread, “some mullahs are said to have criticized the marriage to a half-European girl, mainly brought up in Europe.” According to British officials, this feeling “may be quite widespread.”64
Her description of her own identity is revealing enough. “The feeling of being both Christian and Muslim but at the same time of being neither the one nor the other has engraved in my flesh two divergent poles between which my existence has unfolded. The one is methodically European, the other savagely Persian.”65 She describes her daily life in Tehran by referring to visits “to hospitals, orphanages, charities, the people’s quarters with their djoubs open to the sky, with the streams of dirt water which supplied their dwellings, having first served
washerwomen, tramps and dogs. Poverty and squalor. Children with rickets, ravaged women and starving old men, the filth of the alleyways where the houses are no longer like houses, where poverty, real poverty prevailed.”66 On the other hand, Paris “dazzled”67 her, and anywhere in Europe, “everyday, my heart was filled with sunshine. Life was light.”68 When she went to school in Europe, it was “wonderful to be able to go to Cinema, to drink a glass of lemonade on the terrace of a brasserie . . . a paradise hitherto forbidden.”69 In Persian schools, she found “grey uniform, the stove which smoked and poisoned the classroom, lessons, homework, work to the point of exhaustion.”70 Even caviar, a delicacy she clearly loved and tried to add to the Court’s regular culinary menu, was, in her mind, one of the “fragrances of the West.”71
Yet when the Shah saw and approved the picture, and after Soraya went on a shopping spree with Shams, the two returned to Tehran on October 7, 1950. For Soraya this was a homecoming after a five-year absence. Before long, at the Shah’s insistence, arrangements began for a second royal wedding, and the official announcement was made on October 9.
The news was most jubilantly received by her Bakhtiyari family in Isfahan, and to British officials, this was a cause of concern as, in their view, “most, though not all [of the family] are an idle opium-smoking lot,” and the Court may soon be “infested with a swarm” of them.72
The announcement of Soraya’s engagement included a lie. She was in fact sixteen years old at the time, but in the official announcement she was “credited with eighteen. The difference in age might have appeared excessive.”73 The Shah was nearly thirty-one years old. In reality, for traditional men of Iran at the time, such a difference would hardly seem excessive, but it bothered the Shah.