Book Review: The Coup- Ervand Abrahamian

In August 1953, the CIA, in concert with its British allies, orchestrated the downfall of Iranian Prime Minister Muhammad Mossadeq. Mossadeq, an ardent and popular nationalist, was instrumental to the movement against the Anglo Iranian Oil Company (AIOC); a movement which demanded that control of Iran’s natural resources was returned to native hands. 

In this concise and revealing history, Ervand Abrahamian, prominent Iranian scholar and Professor of History at City University of New York, argues that the events of 1953 must be viewed in their proper context. For too long, he contends, two myths about the coup have passed unchallenged: that Mossadeq- stubborn and fanatical- refused to compromise, and that the Cold War impacted heavily upon Anglo-American calculations. 

In order to counter the former, Abrahamian depicts Mossadeq as a rational and experienced political operator who recognised and successfully side stepped all attempts to sign Iran up to ‘pseudo-nationalisation’. 

Yet, while there is evidence to support his argument- the British position was to pay ‘lip service to the nation’ whilst ‘keeping effective power in our hands’- Mossadeq, it is fair to say, did have a belligerent streak. For instance, when, in 1952, the Shah failed to agree to greater civilian control of the armed forces Mossadeq resigned as Prime Minister, provoking a constitutional crisis. 

That said, Abrahamian is probably correct when he claims that it has long suited historians to portray Mossadeq as the architect of his own downfall. Indeed, he both challenges such interpretations and ridicules the many prejudiced news reports which surfaced at the time. Yet, although contemptuous of their content, Abrahamian contends that such stories, and the cultural notions they propagated, played no significant part in the coup. 

In the main, this was because the dispute was a rather simple one: it was about control over Iran’s natural resources. Consequentially, The Coup dismisses all notions that Anglo and (in particular) American interest stemmed from Cold War concerns. The coup, Abrahamian argues, was not about checking the communist Tudeh party or limiting Moscow’s reach, it was about oil and preserving the status of the AIOC. 

In order to prove this, the author details the negotiations which followed the Oil Nationalisation Act of 1951. Although this produces no bombshells, Abrahamian does show that when the State Department did produce a plan broadly acceptable to Mossadeq (the Iranians would control the exploration, production and transportation of crude but would sell the crucial Abadan refinery to a foreign- but not British- company, pay the fees of this transaction to the AIOC in ‘compensation’ and agree to sell a large amount of oil annually to the AIOC in the medium term), it was dismissed out of hand by London who declared that ‘oil production in Persia must be subject to British control and distribution’. 

Ultimately, the Brits got what they wished. Although the coup was a bumpy affair- the military’s first attempt to take control failed- the resultant oil deal saw BP control 40% of the consortium and Shell another 15% (although Dutch, Shell was widely viewed as British aligned company). 

Of course, such an outcome runs contrary to the accepted notion that immediately after the Second World War Britain, and her Empire, fell into a state of steady and deep decline. It is for this reason, Abrahamian speculates, that historians have tended to prioritise Mossadeq’s decision making and the involvement of the CIA. 

At this point, instead of allowing his history of the coup to stand alone, Abrahamian broadens his focus and lists what he considers the three legacies of 1953 : it made secular rule appear weak, it discredited the monarchy and it gave rise to a culture of suspicion and paranoia that continues to this day. 

While I feel he may be pushing slightly too far (I don’t accept the contention that the West has only itself to blame for having to deal with the likes of Ahmadinejad and not another Mossadeq), there can be no doubt that 1953 had a profound effect on Iranian political life. Moreover, Abrahamian’s depiction of Western and British success may explain the belligerent line taken against Nasser in 1956. 

More broadly, by boiling down a much analysed event to its bare bones, The Coup performs an important- and often neglected- historical function. Increasingly major events are subject to countless interpretations each of which emphasises how a seemingly small or relatively insignificant aspect actually determined the course of events. Without care, this can complicate matters to such an extent that root causes become obscured, or at least conflated with less meaningful concerns. 

By rejecting the Cold War framework and revising the conduct of Mossadeq, Abrahamian is able to focus on what truly counts: the battle over Iranian natural resources. While this means The Coup is not a complicated (or lengthy) book, it is certainly both entertaining and revealing. It is a useful volume for experienced Iran watchers and novices alike.

Book Review: Anne Applebaum- Iron Curtain

Conscious that the Western powers were watching Polish politics carefully, in the spring of 1945 Stalin allowed the non-communist politician Stanislaw Mikolajczyk to return to his homeland. Before the war Mikolajczyk had been president of the Polish Peasants Party (PSL) and served as Prime Minister in exile after General Sikorski perished in a plane crash in 1943. Although he was under no illusion about the prospects of establishing genuine democracy in post war Poland, Mikolajczyk thought it possible that Stalin might tolerate pluralistic politics so long as Warsaw remained under Moscow’s yoke. 
 

Upon his return, crowds gathered to greet Mikolajczyk. Indeed, in Krakow excitable supporters carried his car through the streets. The Polish communists, however, were not so impressed. PSL members were soon subject to harassment, arrest and worse. 

Unbowed, Mikolajczyk led a campaign to retain the Polish Senate. Although largely symbolic, the issue of whether or not to abolish the Senate was one of three put to the Polish people in a referendum of 1946. By advocating a No vote, the PSL defied the communists whose slogan ‘Three Times Yes!’ was disseminated on over 84 million posters, leaflets and brochures. 

Yet, in spite of the propaganda (or perhaps because of it) only a quarter of Poles voted as the communists had designed. This prompted the release a falsified set of results and a brief period of introspection. Once over, the communists concluded that the PSL could not be tolerated.

In the parliamentary elections of January 1947, for instance, its candidates were prevented from contesting in ten out of the fifty-two districts. Worse, in the six months between the referendum and the parliamentary ballot, all of PSL’s Krakow leadership was arrested. Soon, fearing for his safety, Mikolajczyk fled the country, leaving the politics of his homeland to Stalinist cronies like Boleslaw Bierut.  

The death of political pluralism in Poland is just one of many depressing tales from this period in Eastern Europe. In her gripping book, Anne Applebaum makes a good fist of recounting most of them as she documents the imposition of Soviet control in Warsaw, Budapest and East Berlin. 

The systematic deconstruction of Polish, Hungarian and German society was aided by the newly established secret police forces, modelled on the Soviet NKVD, which transmitted an anti-democratic mind-set to Eastern Europe. Suddenly, to be classed an ‘enemy’, one needed not to oppose anything; freedom of thought and individual expression were all that was required to attract the attention of the authorities. 

Consequently, in order to preserve their- and their family’s security- individuals compromised with the regime. Whether they believed the propaganda or not, men, women and children bowed their heads and got on with life. For a period truth was replaced by power. 

It is this process, the implementation of totalitarianism, which is so vividly described by the book. Applebaum documents how one set of institutions, already damaged by the Second World War, were deconstructed and replaced by the almighty State. But it was not just the armed forces, the secret police and the media that fell into communist hands, all manner of groupings from the Scouts to jazz clubs were snuffed out because they promoted free association and thinking.  

Ultimately, once Stalin had died and his cult of personality been dented, people began to express themselves once again. The young in particular, who resisted the attempts to create homo sovietics, eventually helped to facilitate the 1956 revolution in Hungary.

In terms of structure and focus, one of the key strengths of the book lies in Applebaum’s ability to synthesise a vast amount of research into various different issues- from art to industrial policy- and presents this in an engaging fashion. And while there is a political purpose to the book- Applebaum seeks to prove that the Soviet takeover was not a by product of American early cold war hostility, and discredit the resulting communist regimes- it does not distract from the scholarship. 

Although a minor detail, it is worth pointing out that this focus- on Poland, Hungary and East Germany- means that strictly speaking the subtitle: ‘The crushing of Eastern Europe’ is slightly misleading, for while Czechoslovakia, Romania and other nations are touched upon, Iron Curtain is essentially a transnational history of three states. 

And, it must be said, a very good one at that. In the first part of the book Applebaum documents how the public sphere fell into communist control. Her argument is that while the Soviets initially used soft power in an attempt to win hearts and minds, when this failed the communists resorted to harsher, more brutal techniques. This led them eventually to target the private lives of all citizens. It is this over-reach that forms the basis of the second half. Applebaum shows how by equating all free thinking with dissent the Soviets sowed the seeds of rebellion; suddenly every joke was in itself a tiny revolution. 

But while the Soviet system was certainly flawed, for those who experienced it this did not always seem the case. Some benefited from communist rule, and many dared not challenge it. Combined this meant a previous way of life was overwhelmed by an aggressive, suffocating force. Iron Curtain shows how precarious norms and institutions really are. It is a lesson we should never forget.

Book Review- A View from the Foothills- The Diaries of Chris Mullin

When trudging away during one of his brief stints in government, Chris Mullin is asked by his Private Secretary ‘Why don’t you make more suggestions on the policy documents?’. Mullin, who somewhat surprisingly given his profession, lacks personal ambition, replies that he is entirely reconciled to his current obscurity: ‘When I die...no one will ever remember that I was an under-secretary of state at the Department of Environment’.

A touch unkind perhaps, but you get the point: although Mullin thrice received a title, he did not covet them; indeed during his first ministerial incarnation as an underling for John Prescott (penance for what, he does not say), he came to the conclusion that he preferred life as a pugnacious and influential back-bencher to the world of red boxes and ministerial cars.

It is this rather weary attitude that does so much to endear Mullin to his audience. Indeed, one forgets that Mullin was once a firebrand: a campaigning journalist and member of the Bennite left. Instead, the reader comes to think of Mullin principally as reasonable, caring and straightforward member of Tony Blair’s Labour Party. And while Mullin has no truck with the focus groups and phraseology of New Labour, he is loyal to his leader- ‘The Man’.

The Iraq war is a notable exception. Mullin settles on the position that his support is predicated upon a second UN resolution, and when this doesn’t arrive- despite the pressure- Mullin sticks to his guns, and is better for it.  

Especially as this ‘transgression’ doesn’t cost Mullin his career. His final ministerial stint, covering Africa within the Foreign Office, is both the most harrowing and rewarding of his various assignments. Unfortunately, just as he was settling into the role the 2005 election brought things to a juddering halt: ‘I’m sorry Chris’ telephones ‘The Man’, ‘but I am going to have to let you go’. Nothing personal of course, just new faces required.

New Labour’s constant need for rejuvenation is just one of several irritable quirks exposed by our man in Westminster. The deference to almighty Middle England is duly noted, as is the often vacuous language that emanates from pollsters, civil servants and Number 10 alike. 

Then there is the issue of money. Mullin, who abhors both waste and materialism, attempts (with some difficulty) to extract himself from the ministerial car pool. Contrast this outlook with that of the Prime Minister’s wife, who upon learning of Mullin’s first demotion remarks, ‘you’re free- and poorer’. 

Beyond all that, Mullin is a friendly, warm companion who leads the reader through the zenith of New Labour with gentle humour and just the right mixture of idealism and cynicism. Yet the real strength of these diaries lies in Mullin’s writing style. Not only is he crisp and to-the-point but he has a fine ear for what truly counts. This, in conjunction with an acute awareness of his status and function, means that we are spared waffle and self-aggrandisement throughout. Hear, hear to that.