Shah: ’Look at Iran now; we are praying’

Press, 29 November 1979, Page 16

Shah: ’Look at Iran now; we are praying’

Since he moved to New York for urgent medical treatment, the deposed Shah of Iran, the centre of the storm raging about him, has been cut off from the world by doctors and security guards. Even before the United States let him in, he refused to make any comment on the events of his fall and his treatment by the Western powers who had been his close allies. Seven weeks ago, at Cuernavarca in Mexico, he broke silence for the first time and talked to FRANK GILES, deputy editor of the “Sunday Times,” London.

The interview was necessarily short, circumscribed and limited in scope. A multitude of questions remain unanswered — on torture', corruption, personal wealth, and the detailed source and thrust of the advice which persuaded one of the world’s richest and most powerful men into deserting his throne and accepting ignominious exile.

But here is some preliminary insight into the mind of the man who inherited and lost the peacock monarchy — and is now testing to its limits the concept of United States power.

I had no idea, when I saw him, of the true condition of the Shah’s health. He had not yet been afflicted with the jaundice which later was to turn his skin and eyes yellow. He seemed calm and collected, even detached, as though he had not fully absorbed the impact of the political tidal wave that had washed him up on to this distant shore. He entered the drawing room in the luxurious villa about 60 miles from Mexico City accompanied by two Doberman pinschers and a wolfhound the size of a small pony; he was informally dressed in dark trousers, an open-necked shirt and a white coat. Stories that he had undergone plastic surgery to disguise his appearance are rubbish. Of the rest of the family, only the Empress was at the villa. The children, including the Crown Prince, are at university or school in America.

The security measures around the villa were considerable, though strangely

uneven. When I left, I found my own way out and had to prowl about, looking for the driver who had brought me from the hotel in Cuernavarca, to take me back there.

I began by asking the Shah why neither he, nor apparently anyone else around him, had foreseen trouble coming in Iran, reminding him that the last time I had interviewed him, in April, 1978, in Teheran, he had spoken of the disorders which had already occurred as the work of “a handful of poor ignorant people.” “What happened was unnatural and unpredictable. Driving through the city of Mashad in an open car only four months before the situation became desperate, I was acclaimed by 300,000 people. Just after the troubles in Tabriz (in January, 1977). my Prime Minister went there and had an overwhelming reception. I can recall nothing in the history of the world — not even the French Revolution — to compare with what happened subsequently."

How and when did the situation get out of hand, and could it have been averted? The Shah’s answer was in essence that while the “liberalisation” measures he had introduced helped to light the flames, he could by using strong methods, have caused them to be put out. “But as a King and not a dictator I did not think it right to organise and authorise massive repression, though many people around me advised just this.” He was in no doubt that, had it not been for the liberalisation measures “there would have been no trouble.” Equally, he is convinced that had he not harkened to advice to leave the country, the defence forces would have stayed loyal. Had that happened, despite all the agitation, the situation could and would have been controlled.

What was the advice he was getting from his allies in London and Washington? His voice took on a bitter tone. “When President Carter visited me in December, 1977, he spoke not only of Iran as ‘an island of stability in one of the more troubled areas of the world,’ but also paid me personally some very warm compliments. Twelve months later . . .” the Shah’s voice trailed away, but he shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes upwards in an evident imitation of incredulity that such bad faith could exist. I reminded him that both the then British Prime Minister and Foreign Secretary, Mr Callaghan and Dr David Owen, had stuck their necks out publicly to record their support for an ally in difficulties. The Shah very noticeably failed to respond. Equally marked was his silent grimace when I mentioned the name of Sir Anthony Parsons, the British Ambassador in Teheran until

January of this year, who was consulted frequently by the Shah in the weeks and months before the Shah’s departure. Did he know, and if so, did he approve of the excesses committed by S.A.V.A.K. (the intelligence service which was the Shah’s special creation),? I recalled what the Secretary-General of Amnesty International had said in 1974 about its activities: that Iran’s record of human rights was “worse than any other in the world.” For the first time in our conversation the

Shah showed anger and emotion.

“Tell me the name of one man who under my rule was murdered for alleged political offences. Terrorists are different — they must be dealt with firmly. Look at what is happening in Iran now—that is the best answer to my critics." This was one of many disparaging references to Khomeiny’s Iran, where “The P.L.O. (Palestinian Liberation Organisation) plays a major role and where peaceful citizens go in fear of their lives.”

What were his hopes and plans for the future? "We are praying” is all he would say. As for his own safety, faced with threats from Teheran, he was philosophical, “I have always submitted to the will of God.” “What difference would my death make? Anyway, there is no final security against determined killers.” (He referred here, in terms of respect and even affection to the late Earl Mountbatten.) "The most dangerous are the would-be martyrs—those who are ready in killing, to die themselves." The Shah went on to talk about recent developments in the world. He is still well informed and (another habitual characteristic) critical of the West’s inability or refusal to face up to hard choices and difficult decisions. In general, he displayed a degree of pessimism which did not seem to be simply the result of his own misfortunes or misjudgment. He expressed much interest in British affairs and spoke warmly of Mrs Thatcher’s efforts. “Despite all the harm that Birtain has done to my country (“You mean in the past?” ! interrupted and he replied, “In the past and in the present”) 1 have always felt that the British people are capable of pulling themselves together and giving a lead to the world.”

On leaving, I recalled that in and after previous interviews I had asked him some critical questions and written critical things. “I don’t mind that. People say that I will not tolerate oninions other than my own. This is false f don’t object provided the criticism comes from men of goodwill. What I cannot, tolerate are those who seek to make trouble for their own good.” C. The Sunday Times, 1979.