The Fall of Heaven

by Andrew Scott Cooper

  The simmering unrest was brought to the attention of Reza Ghotbi, who had stayed at his post at National Iranian Radio and Television. He dispatched correspondents to southern Tehran to keep an eye on the mosques and then report straight back to him. Their accounts made for chilling reading. “People would break their fast before going to the mosques,” he recalled. “When they came out they were shouting for Islam and against the Shah. My reporters were shocked. They made some interviews and smelled alcohol—these were very secular people, leftists, communists, so they had the protection of the holy place.” For the mullahs to find common cause with socialists, atheists, and anarchists who drank alcohol and ate during the day in Ramadan could mean only one thing: something big was about to happen.

  Minister of Women’s Affairs Mahnaz Afkhami was so worried she went to see Court Minister Hoveyda. “Things are terrible,” she told him. “I feel really scared.”

  “Why don’t you go to the prime minister?” said Hoveyda.

  “I’ve tried. I tried the Princess. Now I’m trying you. You have access to the Shah.”

  Hoveyda picked up the phone and dialed Nowshahr. Afkhami listened as he relayed her concerns over the phone to the Shah, though without mentioning her name. “He is going to have a press conference when he gets back,” Hoveyda assured her.

  “Does he want us to prepare anything for him?”

  “No. He will do it himself.”

  * * *

  ON AUGUST 11, the same day tanks rolled into Isfahan, White House national security adviser Zbigniew Brzezinski received a written report from Professor William E. Griffith, an old friend who had recently returned from a visit to Iran and the region. Griffith was an expert on communism and a scholar whose opinions Brzezinski greatly respected.

  Since late May Brzezinski had been following news of the troubles in Iran prepared for him by his Iran desk officer, Gary Sick. Griffith’s deeply pessimistic analysis went one step further, reflecting the outcome of his meetings in Tehran with officials including the Shah, Prime Minister Amuzegar, Iranian government officials, and foreign diplomats. Griffith was that rare Cold War warrior who understood that something new was taking shape not only in Iran but also throughout the region. Crucially, he perceived that the real danger to the Shah was coming not from communism and the far left but from Islam and the far right. The Shah’s liberal social and economic policies, he warned, were stoking an inferno:

  On balance, I should think the domestic situation [in Iran] is serious and the future of the dynasty is in question (this is not the view of the Embassy, and I saw no opposition leaders, but I am still of this view). The Shah began liberalization and is continuing it; the demonstrations are primarily fundamentalist Moslem; the new Prime Minister, Amuzegar, whom I saw, is impressive and committed to continue the liberalization; but the Shah (whom I also saw) seemed to be less so, and I fear that the intelligentsia is largely alienated.… The Shah is, even more than usual, concerned about US steadiness of will; and the Soviets seem to him regionally successful and on the offensive.

  Griffith urged Brzezinski to order up a fresh intelligence analysis of the situation in Iran and indeed throughout the Middle East. Second, he recommended that the White House publicly throw its weight behind the Shah’s attempts at political reform. “The Middle East and indeed most of the Moslem world, is in the grip of a rising fundamentalist Islam,” he advised. The main causes for religious fervor, he argued, were “strains of modernization and the perceived failure of both Western models, parliamentary democracy and Marxism. Thus the return to Islam is the current solution for the problem of identity.” An Islamic resurgence posed a real threat to the president’s foreign policy goals in the Middle East and especially his efforts to build peace between Israel and its neighbors: “A gloomy picture, in short, but there is no point in not realizing it—and in not continuing to try to prevent it coming true!”

  Bill Griffith had never lived in Iran, did not speak or read the language, and had never been regarded as an expert on Islam or indeed the Middle East. As a result, Brzezinski read the memo with interest but ultimately decided not to act on it. “On the one hand, his warning was probably one of the first,” said Brzezinski. “On the other, I knew he didn’t speak Farsi and he was not an area specialist. So I decided his view was not decisive.” Griffith’s insights were also private, which meant no official follow-up was required or requested. To date, President Carter had not been briefed on the unrest in Iran. From the West Wing to Roosevelt Avenue, the consensus among U.S. officials was that the Shah had matters firmly in hand. “Iran is not in a revolutionary or even a pre-revolutionary situation,” the CIA concluded in early August 1978. “There is dissatisfaction with the Shah’s tight control of the political process, but this does not at present threaten the government. Perhaps most important, the military, far from being a hotbed of conspiracies, supports the monarchy.”

  In mid-August President Carter left town for a two-week white-water rafting vacation in the Rockies. Secretary of State Cyrus Vance was fully absorbed with preparations for the Egypt-Israel peace talks, set to start at Camp David in the first week of September. NSC Iran desk officer Gary Sick was away on leave for the rest of the month, and Ambassador Sullivan was enjoying his second month of vacation in Mexico. For the American public, the big story of the late summer was not Iran but the death of Pope Paul VI and the election of Albino Cardinal Luciani as John Paul I. Only in hindsight did it become clear that the last two weeks of August were the critical time when the fate of the Shah and the Iranian nation was decided.

  * * *

  KHOMEINI TOOK ADVANTAGE of Ramadan to mobilize his followers. The fatwa he issued was the moral equivalent of a declaration of war against the state. “The people will not rest until the decadent Pahlavi Dynasty has been swept away and all traces of tyranny have disappeared,” he thundered. Free elections were pointless because “as long as the Shah’s satanic power prevails not a single true representative of the people can possibly be elected.” Khomeini ordered his followers in the army, security forces, and government to lay down their arms and abandon their posts. “Do your duty by Islam,” he instructed. “Put yourselves where you belong, and you will be rewarded in this world and the next.” The Marja went still further when he called for the murder of the head of state: “Death to the Shah is an Islamic slogan which all men of religion should take up.”

  In the Shia tradition a marja’s followers were expected to emulate his teachings. Khomeini did not boast as many adherents as Grand Ayatollahs Shariatmadari or Khoi, but those he did have were more likely to share his fundamentalist interpretation of the Quran and emulate his conservative social views. They were, in fact, prepared to give their lives for him. Though most were poor and illiterate laborers, others were army conscripts or had risen from the ranks of the petty bourgeoisie to work in government as low-level civil servants. Still others were powerful in the bazaar, wealthy industrialists, society ladies, and even senior ranking army officers. Khomeini’s fatwa tore at their consciences, as he surely knew it would. He was making it clear that now was the time of choosing—they were either with him or against him. Was their loyalty first to God or man, to the mosque or to the state? Soldiers who disobeyed Khomeini’s fatwa were deemed legitimate targets for reprisal and attack.

  Rattled by this latest escalation, the Shah finally awoke to the danger and sent General Moghadam to Qom for an urgent nighttime rendezvous with Shariatmadari’s son-in-law Ahmad Abbasi, who restated the demands the Marja had presented earlier in the summer. The Shah was mulling whether to accept them when he received two American officials at Nowshahr. Charlie Naas escorted General Robert E. Huyser, deputy commander of U.S. ground forces in Europe, to brief the monarch on Huyser’s proposed blueprint to reform the command and control system operated by the Imperial Armed Forces. The Shah broke the ice by raising the sensitive subject of unrest. He restated his commitment to liberalization but declared that the “recent vandalism” had to end
. Turning to Huyser, he reminded the general that “he had predicted this development” in a conversation the two men had earlier in the year. The Shah admitted that the crisis “had come more quickly than he expected” and that although the situation “was very serious … he did not want me to become overly alarmed.” He added that “he was not going to lose control.” The Americans interpreted this to mean that the Shah was prepared to call out the army to prevent the collapse of law and order.

  As the meeting broke up the Shah asked Naas if he could have a quiet word.

  “Mr. Naas,” he asked, “what do you think is going on in my country?”

  “Your Majesty, we in the embassy have come to no particular conclusion about what is happening. We are following it very closely.”

  “But what do you think?”

  “Your Majesty,” Naas replied, “I agree with your assessment. You are opposed by the Red and the Black.” Later, Naas admitted that his answer had been calculated not to offend: “As chargé, I was very conscious of not being ahead of government policy.”

  The Shah sensed as much. He looked at him doubtfully and signaled it was time to leave.

  * * *

  THE SHAH’S QUESTION to Charlie Naas was a tacit admission of his bewilderment at the rapid turn of events. Two years earlier, when he first decided to open up the political system, he had expected a certain amount of unrest. But this? Cities in flames? Mobs with knives? Suicide bombers blowing up restaurants packed with women and children? The King who prided himself on always having a plan was at a loss as to what to do. For the first time doubts crept in, and with the doubts came hesitancy, second-guessing, and bitterness. At Nowshahr, family and friends were startled to hear their host, always so quiet and confident, repeat the same question over and over. “The Shah was asking, ‘What do you think is going on?’” said Elli Antoniades.

  His unease was on display at the press conference held to mark his return to Tehran in late August after forty-two days away and on the eve of National Uprising Day. Drawing parallels with that earlier time, the Shah directed his fire at “Islamic Marxists,” whom he accused of fomenting riots and for wanting to turn Iran into “Iranistan.” “We offer the people the Great Civilization with all the benefits we have detailed,” he said. “They offer the Great Terror.” “But the situation is different now,” he told his audience of newspaper editors. “As I said earlier … the patriots, the Armed Forces and I will not let them execute their plot.” Reminiscing about the Mossadeq era, he conceded that he had taken a long time to act in 1953 because “perhaps the conditions of the time did not permit an alternative response. But the situation is drastically different now.” For the first time he admitted to doubts about his decision to dismantle authoritarian rule. He had “considered riots to be the price of democratization” but “did not think this price would be so high.” Many people in government “were already afraid of the consequences of political liberalization and asking the question ‘Where are we going?’”

  The Shah asked himself the same question. Still determined to win over the skeptics, he provided more explicit details of his road map to democracy. Liberalization would continue, and the first bills to be submitted to the Majles after the summer break would provide guarantees for freedom of speech, press, and assembly. The Rastakhiz Party would no longer hold a monopoly, and other political groups were free to form. Parliamentary elections would take place as scheduled next year, and opposition candidates could participate as long as they were prepared to swear the parliamentary oath of allegiance to the Throne and the Quran. Addressing the issue of corruption, the Shah announced that members of the Imperial Family were henceforth banned from government affairs and private business. Denying rumors of illness, he insisted he was in good health: “I have never felt better.” He took a swipe at upper-middle-class Iranians fleeing the country, calling them “chicken-hearted.” Their departure would only “cause house prices to fall even further.” Asked what he might do if the riots continued, he left the door open to a temporary suspension of elections and civil liberties until order was restored. “If, despite all the civil, individual and political liberties they are to enjoy … they still refuse to quiet down, then what are we supposed to do? I do not need to spell it out. You can readily come up with the answer.” Few reporters took him at his word—by now they sensed he was in full retreat. “Press noted this could mean change in liberalization plans but Shah saw it as reaffirmation of [his government’s] decision to move forward despite heavy sledding,” reported the U.S. embassy. “The press conference went badly,” said Mahnaz Afkhami. “He lost an opportunity.”

  In light of the Ramadan riots, the Shah’s decision earlier in the summer to send an envoy to meet with Imam Musa Sadr now assumed real significance. Behind the scenes, Shariatmadari and the moderates struggled to come up with a formula that would satisfy most ulama without humiliating the palace. They found inspiration from the Safavid period, when Persia’s kings had shared power with the marjas. Modern-day Morocco offered another model in King Hassan, who had shown a canny ability to keep his country’s clergy on his side. One idea was to ask the Shah to replace his prime minister with a statesman with impeccable religious credentials, “somebody with [the] confidence of both Shah and people.” As early as mid-August the U.S. embassy reported to Washington that the moderates favored Senate president Jaafar Sharif-Emami for the post of prime minister “because he is a religious man himself and has solid political backing.”

  The religious moderates’ most intriguing and creative proposal was that an invitation should be extended to Musa Sadr to return to the land of his birth to lead them against Khomeini. The Imam’s attributes were obvious. He was a highly respected Shia theologian and had the personal skills to draw large crowds. He had once enjoyed the Shah’s admiration and was known to favor Grand Ayatollah Khoi’s opposition to a religious state. Worldly, tolerant, and a brilliant communicator, some in the clergy even dared hope that the Shah would appoint Musa Sadr to the post of new prime minister. “When the revolution began, many people said Musa Sadr knew more about the affairs of the world than Khomeini,” said Hossein Nasr, Queen Farah’s adviser on cultural affairs. “Musa Sadr was not known inside Iran either, but he was known in Iraq, the Arab world, and he knew the present day situation. He knew the ulama in Qom. To be frank, I thought it was an interesting idea. Musa Sadr had the experience and the exposure.” The plan, he said, was for Musa Sadr to return to Iran “and keep the Shah on as a figurehead. I had heard it from younger ulama in Qom and in ulama circles in Tehran, from people involved in religious circles.” The Imam would “establish a formal religious government and restore order. Khomeini would come back to Iran, go to Qom to live, and stick to scholarship. This was discussed with the generals. The Shah and Empress knew about the plan to put in Musa Sadr as head of government.”

  The moderates believed Musa Sadr was the only cleric capable of standing up to Khomeini and preventing what they feared was an inevitable slide toward civil war and massive bloodshed. “I have heard [the ulama] believed Musa Sadr could be an alternative as a leader,” confirmed Hassan Shariatmadari. “Relations between Musa Sadr and my father were very good. He had the ambition to become the leader of Lebanon—he also wanted to become the leader of Iran. The Khomeini people feared him.” “Musa Sadr was a threat to Ayatollah Khomeini,” agreed Ali Kani. “Khomeini was scared of him.”

  Musa Sadr’s admirers in Iran had every reason to believe he would accept an offer of leadership if it was extended. In early August in Beirut the Imam hosted an old friend, Ali Reza Nourizadeh, the political editor of Iran’s Ettelaat newspaper. The two men reminisced about Iran, and Musa Sadr was brought to tears listening to tape cassettes of Marzieh, the Iranian chanteuse who sang traditional Persian music. He confessed that he had been so excited by Googoosh’s recent tour of Lebanon that he had asked a friend to film the concert so he could watch it at home. The two men spent long hours talking about the troubles in Iran.
“You don’t know Khomeini,” Musa Sadr told Nourizadeh. “He is a dangerous man.” The Imam said he had recently asked Ahmad Khomeini to talk to his father and try to calm him. “You don’t want Iran to become Lebanon,” he had warned Ahmad. “He didn’t want the Shah to fall,” said Nourizadeh. “He was very worried about Khomeini’s intentions.”

  With Iran and the region coming to a boil, Musa Sadr’s friends worried about his safety. When he told them he had decided to accept Colonel Gadhafi’s invitation to stop over in Tripoli before flying on to Rome in early September, they begged him to reconsider. King Hussein of Jordan and the president of Algeria suspected the Libyan leader had laid a trap. Gadhafi was “crazy,” they told him, and prone to violence. Iranian diplomats sympathetic to Musa Sadr also advised him to cancel his travel plans. “Our ambassador in Syria told him not to go because Gadhafi might kill him,” recalled Parviz Sabeti. But Musa Sadr was undeterred. Supremely confident in his powers of persuasion, he could not imagine that a Muslim head of state—not even Gadhafi—would dare harm one of Islam’s most beloved and respected figures.