One hot and breezeless afternoon last week,
Mohammed Mossadegh's advisers sat around the boss's iron cot on the
balcony of his yellow brick house in Teheran. They had gathered to face
the facts: the country was disintegrating economically and politically.
Husky Firebrand Hussein Makki spoke up: “My dear Pishva [leader],
unless you control the army, you will have no security.” The group
agreed that the Pishva should ask the Shah for control of the army.A few days later, 7 2-year-old Mossadegh faced 32-year-old Shah Mohammed
Reza Pahlevi, Iran's well-meaning but weak monarch. He began naming the
ministers for his new cabinet . “What about the War
Minister?” the Shah asked. Replied Mossadegh: “I will take charge of
the War Ministry, Sire.”The Hard Institution. The Shah frowned. He knew that his 140,000-man
army, poorly equipped, indifferently disciplined and mottled with
disaffection, was not much. But it was all that stood between him and
the Mossadegh gang—the National Frontists, the religious extremists,
the street mobsters. Said the Shah carefully: “The army is a hard
institution to run. I think that a general enjoying my fullest
confidence should be nominated.”After four hours of polite wrangling, Mossadegh hurried home, then wrote
the Shah: “It is better that the next government should be organized by
another person who has your confidence.” He added a veiled warning: “In
the actual situation, it is not possible for the Iranian people to be
victorious in the struggle which it has begun.”Thus, 15 months after he took power promising his people “comfort and
ease,” the great nationalist departed, leaving his country richer in
pride and poorer in power and pocketbook. He had cut off Iran's nose to
spite its face. Deprived of $100 million a year in direct and indirect
revenues from the Anglo-Iranian Oil Co., unable to sell its oil abroad,
Iran's treasury was running into the red at a $10 million-a-month clip.
Mossadegh's policies were bankrupt, and Iran was nearly so.The Old Fox. The young Shah called for the old fox of Iranian politics
to take over. The fox, who had been waiting a long time, bounded in.
Eightyish and four times Premier, Ahmed Qavam, a multimillionaire, is
tough, ambitious and intrigue-loving. But in his own cynical way he is
also an Iranian patriot. Qavam issued a hard-hitting manifesto: “The
pilot has taken a new course. God help those who try to sabotage my
reform endeavors.” He announced he would try to solve the oil crisis in
friendly talks with the British.That did it. Nationalists poured into the streets of Teheran and Abadan
yelling: “Death to Qavam the traitor.” They postured before the
soldiers screaming: “Pierce our breasts with your bayonets.” Mullah
Kashani, whose spiritual followers murdered moderate Premier Ali
Razmara in 1951, told newsmen that Qavam would also be “eliminated.”Qavam replied by sending truckloads of troops roaring through the
streets and imposing a curfew. But rioting spread; soon 20 people lay
dead. Others made battle banners out of white cloths dipped in the
blood of the wounded. They threw themselves before Sherman tanks and
pleaded with the soldiers to come over to their side. Teheran began to
look like a city gripped by revolution.
