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- 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.

A New Direction For The UN?

Something interesting is happening at the United Nations. No, really. In March the Security Council passed resolution 2098 which substantially altered the nature of MONUSCO- the body’s largest and most expensive peacekeeping force. 

 Up until now, MONUSCO has been concerned primarily with protecting the civilian population of the Democratic Republic of the Congo from bands of rebel forces, but soon three infantry battalions, an artillery battalion and a special force and reconnaissance company will aim to neutralise the insurgents- principally the marauding M23 group.

Two factors precipitated the shift. First, the M23 has been gaining ground. The UN has talked about ‘waves of conflict’ sweeping East, further decreasing the Government’s control. Second, these forays have made MONUSCO look ineffective. Last winter, without firing a shot, the blue helmets ceded the city of Goma to the rebels. Unfortunately, this was not the mission’s first set back: in the past they have been accused of failing to protect civilians from atrocities. Thus, the beefed up mandate can be interpreted as an attempt to rescue MONUSCO’s reputation. 

Will it work? Well, there have already been teething problems. Although a quarter of the offensive troops are in place, bureaucratic wrangling and logistical issues have held up the rest. Announced in March, it is now estimated that it will be autumn before the ‘intervention brigade’ becomes fully operational. 

The delay gives M23 more time to prepare. Speaking to The Guardian last month, rebel Colonel Vianney Kazarama sounded bullish: ‘They will not know the terrain, our tactics, not even the local languages. It will take them weeks to organise. If they attack we will respond very quickly and with full force."

Yet, while it is clear that the UN has a job to, there is reason to be optimistic. Well armed and properly trained troops- the force will be composed of men primarily from Tanzania, Malawi, India, Uruguay and South Africa- should be able to take the fight to the M23. More, the presence of African forces increases the pressure on Rwanda to keep its nose clean. Last winter a UN report suggested that Kigali’s defence minister, General James Kabarebe, is in ultimate control of the M23. President Paul Kagame has called such accusations ‘ridiculous’, but he perhaps protests too much. 

The other consideration is the internal state of the rebels. In March, former M23 leader General Bosco Ntaganda surprisingly turned up at the US embassy in Rwanda and handed himself in. Now on trial at the international criminal court, General Ntaganda- known widely as The Terminator- raises some interesting questions: foremost among them what (or rather who) caused him to flee?

Fractures within the rebel group would boost the MONUSCO’s cause, even if the situation within the Congo remains grim. The Goma debacle of late last year no doubt triggered the tactical change—but no one expects the MONUSCO forces to have it easy.

How, for instance, would the UN respond if M23 targeted not the new, shiny ‘intervention brigade’, but the pre-existing peacekeeping forces? Would they close down the humanitarian mission, arm those troops or redouble efforts elsewhere? Things could get very complicated, very quickly. 

More broadly, the mission represents something of a litmus test for the UN. Previously, as with the overthrow of Gaddafi last spring, even when the Security Council has approved action the fighting has been outsourced to others. This time things are different. If the mission proves successful (it must be said that what constitutes success in such a war torn country remains unclear) then perhaps similar ventures will follow in its wake. On the other hand, failure would invite further questions regarding the purpose and effectiveness of the modern UN. 

The stakes, therefore, are high. Not only for the people of the Congo but for the Security Council as well. It will be interesting to see how the situation plays out.

Greece Experiences Its Annual Political Crisis, But Who Is Really Endangering Democracy?

Last week Greece experienced another political crisis. This year’s predicament — which for various reasons received much less international attention than the previous few — centred on the state broadcaster ERT. Just over a week ago, Prime Minister Antonis Samaras announced that it, and its three channels, would close down with immediate effect. ERT, which receives annual funding of €328 million (collected unusually via electricity bills), was a source of “incredible waste” and had to be drastically reformed. 

Thus, the government announced that 2,500 employees would lose their jobs (a figure which, after the involvement of the unions, rose to 2,700) and that a pared down state broadcaster would be introduced at a later, unspecified date. Cue howls of anguish: “A blow to democracy” fumed ERT newsreader Antonis Alafogiorgos; an “institutional coup” claimed leftwing opposition leader Alexis Tsipras. 

Certainly, the shutdown occurred at breakneck speed: ERT’s channels went black at 11pm on the day of announcement (an anchor, it was reported, was cut off mid-sentence).  Understandably, this inflamed both Greece’s journalists and its opposition politicians. Indeed, ERT staff were so irate they pledged to continue broadcasting come what may.

Intriguingly, their white knight arrived in the form of the European Broadcasting Union (the folks behind the Eurovision song contest). The EBU immediately expressed its “profound dismay” at Samaras’ decision and moved a satellite truck into the ERT’s car park in order to facilitate continued, online broadcasting. More, the EBU wrote to the European Commission and also organised a letter of protest signed by the great and good of European public service broadcasting, including the Director-General of the BBC.

By Thursday the pressure on Samaras had steadily ratcheted. It was beginning to look like he had overplayed his hand. So outraged were the other political parties — including PASOK and Democratic left, his coalitions partners — that it seemed as if fresh elections might prove necessary.

This spooked both the Germans and the market. Although Samaras only moved to close the broadcaster in order to satisfy the demands of the Troika (which has called for the Greek public sector to shed a further 2,000 workers), the alacrity with which the ERT was taken off the air, combined with the lack of consultation, prompted a political crisis. 

By Friday the Prime Minister had begun to row back. He signalled his intent to form a committee which would entrust a small number of ERT employees to resume news broadcasts. But for his opponents, rather predictably, the comprise measure did not go far enough. 

Over the weekend, Samaras attacked the ERT as “sinful” and corrupt. He claimed that he was trying to modernise a country that resembled “Jurassic Park”. But his justifications fell on deaf ears. On Monday Greece’s highest administrative court, the Council of State, suspended the order to closedown ERT. However, it did add that the state broadcaster sorely required reform. 

Although this caveat allowed all sides to claim victory, in reality there can be no doubt that the Prime Minister’s authority has been weakened. Indeed, Samaras has already pledged to update the coalition agreement, to consult with his partners more frequently and to engage in a Cabinet reshuffle. 

What to make of all this? Some have claimed the victor was Greek democracy, but I’m not so sure. While the government clearly acted with undue haste, the scope of the ERT must be put in perspective: its audience share, for instance, has been on the decline for years and currently stands at 13%. Furthermore, Samaras was attempting (albeit clumsily) to satisfy the demands of the Troika, not hobble the Greek media.

And then there is the role played by the EBU. Whether or not Samaras acted wisely (and I think we can all agree he didn’t), his decision to close the ERT was undermined by an unaccountable trade union. Not only did the EBU facilitate the aforementioned satellite truck, but it actually enabled the ERT’s news channel, NET, to return to television screens by rerouting its signal. 

Quite rightly, the Greek government has threatened the EBU with legal action (it has also been in contact with Israel to protest the fact that a firm from that nation co-opted with the EBU). Although it may have disagreed with the Greek government’s decision, the lengths which it went to circumvent it are astonishing.

In essence, the decision to close the ERT can be interpreted as a clumsy attempt to satisfy the Trokia— the IMF, the ECB and European Commission. In other words, the Greek government was bowing to its creditors demands. It is also true that the decision was roundly attacked as an affront to democracy, and that the policy was vehemently opposed by the EBU. In other words, the will of the Greek government was undermined by pan-European organisation accountable to no one. 

So I ask, is Antonis Samaras the real threat to Greek democracy? I can’t help but feel that the past week proves he isn’t.

Book Review: ‘Back From The Brink- 1,000 Days At Number 11’- Alistair Darling

These memoirs were published in a hurry: extracts appeared in September 2011, less than eighteen months after Darling left Government. I’m tempted to speculate why. Did Darling want to get his contribution out of the way before taking charge of the Better Together campaign; was he pressurised by his publisher; or did he strike while the iron was hot in order to preserve his reputation? 

 

What is clear is that Darling and Brown did not see eye-to-eye. The Prime Minister felt that the Chancellor’s economic forecasts were unreasonably gloomy. For his part, Darling admits he was cautious, but then again he had access to all the data. Brown’s ‘investment verses cuts’ strategy, the author argues, missed the point: public spending had to be addressed. 

Darling characterises himself as an arch pragmatist prepared to tell truth to power, only for power to ignore the advice. Given the circumstances, the stakes, Darling feels that he dealt with the financial crisis rather well. Going further, he expresses his frustration that No 10 failed to capitalise on his astute economic fire-fighting. 

Of course there’s more to politics than assigning blame. There’s also credit to accrue. “In the aftermath of the crisis” begins my favourite passage from Back from the Brink, “there have been many who have claimed authorship of what proved to be a highly successful plan ... [but] it really doesn’t matter who thought of the scheme first. What matters is that it worked. What I know for certain is that the Treasury, the Bank and the FSA started work on 26 September, under my instruction.”

Brilliant stuff. Indeed, while the tone is hardly triumphant (the cover jacket is almost comically austere) Darling is primarily concerned with vindicating his chancellorship, a feat he almost pulls off.

Putting politics to one side, it would be folly to deny the fact that Darling- a competent, cautious, experienced Minister- handled the financial crisis in a calm, logical matter. Of course, this is the impression he wishes to give, but it would be churlish to deny credit where credit is due. (Pun almost intended).

That said, the book is light on detail. In part this will be because copious amounts of economic data would contravene two important rules: it would reveal too much about policies still in practise, and it would be mind numbingly boring. So instead Darling dwells on the characters he dealt with: there’s a late night meeting with Fred Goodwin, disagreements with Mervyn King. Interesting, but superficial. Anyone keen to understand the mechanics behind the Government’s decision making should head elsewhere. 

Understandably, when first released the ruptures in the Brown-Darling relationship caught the eye. But these passages, intended to be climatic, fall a little flat. He dutifully knifes Brown on his management style, on policy, but he does so with little relish.

Yet their policy disagreements were substantive. Brown’s adherence to the ‘investment versus cuts’ line and Darling’s insistence on the need for budgetary rigor hinted at something larger, namely the tension between a Keynesian response to the crisis and New Labour’s mantra of economic prudence. This debate has yet to be fully resolved, but Darling will have keenly noted the words of Ed Balls last week and probably afforded himself the faintest of smiles. 

Book Review: Kwasi Kwarteng- Ghosts of Empire.

Historians have long argued about the purpose and character of the British Empire. Was it purely a commercial vehicle, or did it ultimately export democratic ideals? Were native populations exploited and grossly maltreated or did they benefit from an influx of foreign capital and commercial nous? In Ghosts of Empire, Kwasi Kwarteng, historian and Conservative MP, treads a different path; rather than offer a judgement on the Empire’s merits, he focuses on its results; on the policies pursued and their ramifications. 

This leads Kwarteng to contend that the much discussed ‘imperial project’ “was nothing more than a series of improvisations conducted by men who shared a common culture, but who often had very different ideas about government and administration.” In other words, “there simply was no master plan”.

Via six case studies — which range from Iraq to Hong Kong — Ghosts of Empire seeks to underline the quite varied nature of the imperial experience. Policy, Kwarteng argues, was the preserve not of the Foreign Office, nor its Colonial counterpart, but of the men (they were nearly always men) on the ground. 

Such “anarchic individualism” led to several missteps. In Kashmir, for instance, the British cultivated the rise of Hari Singh, which put a Hindu in charge of a Muslim majority nation. The legacy of this decision was felt a generation later when Kashmir’s rulers refused to join Pakistan, even though there was a strong ethnic case for doing so. And, as any student of international relations knows, tensions over Kashmir still persist to this day.

The ghosts in question then, are a serious of long-running political and cultural disputes which can be traced back to the poor decisions of individual colonial administrators. This, of course, is a damming indictment of London’s ability to properly govern the territory which it greedily sought to acquire. Indeed, after reading Kwarteng’s generally excellent book, no one needs to be convinced about how vital a role competent civil servants play.

One element, however, that I found to be lacking was any discussion of local agency. Sure, the Brits made bad, chaotic policy, but their failures have surely been compounded by post-colonial governments. To return to Kashmir, although many of the resulting problems can be traced back to the ill judged decisions of the Empire, succeeding Indian and Pakistani officials should not be absolved of responsibility. 

Putting this to one side, for the reader, Kwarteng’s position has a major advantage: by arguing that the Empire was run by individuals the historian is required to profile them. Kwarteng pursues this task with glee, and inevitably some of the characters he encounters practically leap off the page. 

Many, indeed most, shared a common educational background: public school of repute, Oxford or Cambridge. This is not to say all colonial officials were upper class, -- the majority, in fact, belonged to the middle — but it is indicative of the type of rule they imposed. The Empire notes Kwarteng, was “governed more by notions of intellectual and social elitism...than by any abstract ideal of democracy or political liberalism”. In this sense Britain’s overseas territories were far more hierarchical than society back at home. Ramsay MacDonald, the author notes, would never have made it as a Colonial administrator. 

Would a socially varied staff have pursued more effective policies? It’s difficult, impossible to say. Kwarteng doesn’t even try—a recurring feature in a book which prompts many questions but offers precious few answers. Certainly, it makes me wonder about the soon to be emerging global elite—politicians and thinkers (including those from the emergent Asian nations) who have been schooled together at Harvard, Yale, Oxford, Cambridge and Princeton. 

Ghosts of Empire has been widely praised and it’s easy to see why. Kwarteng manages to sidestep the old, “stale” debates by stating something quite new: that the Empire stood for nothing much at all.