claims to have suddenly been blessed with a shining visionâannounces to one and all that within a generation he will make Iran (which is a backward, disorganized, half-illiterate, barefoot country) into the fifth greatest power on earth. At the same time the monarch awakens high hopes among his people with the attractive slogan "Prosperity for All." Initially, with everyone aware that the Shah is in the really big money, these hopes do not seem completely vain.
A few days after the press conference shown in our photograph, the monarch grants an interview to
Der Spiegel
and says, "In ten years we will have the same living standard that you Germans, French, and English have now."
"Do you think, sir," the correspondent asks incredulously, "you will be really able to accomplish this within ten years?"
"Yes, of course."
But, says the astonished journalist, the West needed many generations to achieve its present standard of living. Will you be able to skip all that?
Of course.
I think of this interview now, when Mohammed Reza is no longer in the country and, surrounded by half-naked shivering children, I am wading through mud and dung among the squalid clay huts of a little village outside Shiraz. In front of one of the huts a woman is forming cow patties into circular cakes that, once dried, will serve (in this country of oil and gas!) as the only fuel for her home. Well, walking through this sad medieval village and remembering that interview of a few years back, the most banal of reflections comes into my head: Not even the greatest nonsense is beyond the reach of human invention.
For the time being, however, the autocrat locks himself in his palace and begins issuing the hundreds of decisions that convulse his homeland and lead to his overthrow five years later. He orders investment doubled, begins the great importing of technology, and creates the third-most-advanced army in the world. He commands that the most up-to-date equipment be ordered, installed, and put in use. Modern machines produce modern merchandise, and Iran is going to swamp the world with its superior output. He decides to build atomic power plants, electronics factories, steel mills, and great industrial complexes. Then, since there is a delicious winter in Europe, he leaves to ski in St. Moritz. But his charming, elegant residence in St. Moritz suddenly stops being a quiet hideaway and retreat, because word of the new Eldorado has spread around the world by this time and excited the power centers, where everyone immediately has begun calculating the amounts of money to be plucked in Iran. The premiers and ministers of otherwise respectable and affluent governments from serious, respected countries have begun to line up outside the Shah's Swiss domicile. The ruler sat in an armchair, warming his hands at the fireplace and listening to a deluge of propositions, offers, and declarations. Now the whole world was at his feet. Before him were bowed heads, inclined necks, and outstretched hands. "Now look," he'd tell the premiers and ministers,"you don't know how to govern and that's why you don't have any money." He lectured London and Rome, advised Paris, scolded Madrid. The world heard him out meekly and swallowed even the bitterest admonitions because it couldn't take its eyes off the gold pyramid piling up in the Iranian desert. Ambassadors in Teheran went crazy under the barrage of telegrams that their ministers turned on them, all dealing with money: How much can the Shah give us? When and on what conditions? You say he won't? Then insist, Your Excellency! We offer guaranteed service and will ensure favorable publicity! Instead of elegance and seriousness, pushing and shoving without end, feverish glances and sweaty hands filled the waiting rooms of even the most petty Iranian ministers. People crowding each other, pulling at each other's sleeves, shouting, Get in line, wait your turn! These are the presidents of multinational corporations,
A few days after the press conference shown in our photograph, the monarch grants an interview to
Der Spiegel
and says, "In ten years we will have the same living standard that you Germans, French, and English have now."
"Do you think, sir," the correspondent asks incredulously, "you will be really able to accomplish this within ten years?"
"Yes, of course."
But, says the astonished journalist, the West needed many generations to achieve its present standard of living. Will you be able to skip all that?
Of course.
I think of this interview now, when Mohammed Reza is no longer in the country and, surrounded by half-naked shivering children, I am wading through mud and dung among the squalid clay huts of a little village outside Shiraz. In front of one of the huts a woman is forming cow patties into circular cakes that, once dried, will serve (in this country of oil and gas!) as the only fuel for her home. Well, walking through this sad medieval village and remembering that interview of a few years back, the most banal of reflections comes into my head: Not even the greatest nonsense is beyond the reach of human invention.
For the time being, however, the autocrat locks himself in his palace and begins issuing the hundreds of decisions that convulse his homeland and lead to his overthrow five years later. He orders investment doubled, begins the great importing of technology, and creates the third-most-advanced army in the world. He commands that the most up-to-date equipment be ordered, installed, and put in use. Modern machines produce modern merchandise, and Iran is going to swamp the world with its superior output. He decides to build atomic power plants, electronics factories, steel mills, and great industrial complexes. Then, since there is a delicious winter in Europe, he leaves to ski in St. Moritz. But his charming, elegant residence in St. Moritz suddenly stops being a quiet hideaway and retreat, because word of the new Eldorado has spread around the world by this time and excited the power centers, where everyone immediately has begun calculating the amounts of money to be plucked in Iran. The premiers and ministers of otherwise respectable and affluent governments from serious, respected countries have begun to line up outside the Shah's Swiss domicile. The ruler sat in an armchair, warming his hands at the fireplace and listening to a deluge of propositions, offers, and declarations. Now the whole world was at his feet. Before him were bowed heads, inclined necks, and outstretched hands. "Now look," he'd tell the premiers and ministers,"you don't know how to govern and that's why you don't have any money." He lectured London and Rome, advised Paris, scolded Madrid. The world heard him out meekly and swallowed even the bitterest admonitions because it couldn't take its eyes off the gold pyramid piling up in the Iranian desert. Ambassadors in Teheran went crazy under the barrage of telegrams that their ministers turned on them, all dealing with money: How much can the Shah give us? When and on what conditions? You say he won't? Then insist, Your Excellency! We offer guaranteed service and will ensure favorable publicity! Instead of elegance and seriousness, pushing and shoving without end, feverish glances and sweaty hands filled the waiting rooms of even the most petty Iranian ministers. People crowding each other, pulling at each other's sleeves, shouting, Get in line, wait your turn! These are the presidents of multinational corporations,
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