Truman’s envoy, Harriman—who is supposed to act as a mediator in the oil dispute—had barely arrived in Tehran when his presence had already caused deaths and injuries among the population. The Persians know who Harriman is, just as they know what lies behind his “disinterested” mission; they braved police gunfire and saber blows to voice their discontent with the intrigues of imperialism. [Averell Harriman’s arrival was met with violent protests from Iranian communists]

Why did Truman send his political advisor to Tehran? Officially, it is said to be an attempt at mediation regarding the fate of the famous oil company that, until a few weeks ago, was still known as the Anglo-Iranian Oil Co. In reality, however, calling him a mediator is hardly appropriate; no one could be less suited for the role.

If there is any government that is clearly—in everyone’s eyes—an interested party in this complex and murky affair, it is precisely the one representing United States oil companies. Who could seriously believe that Mr. Harriman—of the equally famous bank bearing his name—is so disinterested that he would ignore the insistent and brazen demands of the various oil barons back home? They are impatiently waiting to be called to the British company’s bedside. And if he were to overlook this, the expert Walter Levy—who is accompanying him in his usual capacity as advisor to the US government on protecting oil interests—would certainly remind him. There is, therefore, no reason to think that Truman’s envoys might pass up such a fine opportunity to attempt the major coup that means so much to those who sent them. After all, the dream of Standard Oil of New Jersey—and of the Socony Vacuum Oil Company is no secret to anyone: for years they have been trying, as best they can, to carve out an opening in that private preserve—the British Concession—which, until now, for exploiting the fabulous wealth of southern Persia. So far, they have not succeeded. After having tried everything, the Americans seemed confident last year that their monopolies were on the verge of reaching an understanding with their British cousins regarding the division of coveted resources on new terms. According to the US press, the proposal was made by Max Thornberg—former vice president of the American oil company Caltex—who, acting as an advisor to the Shah and the Persian government, traveled to London to negotiate directly with the president of the Anglo-Iranian Oil Company. [Max Thornburg] But it was no use: the British would hear nothing of it. What was to be done? Having run out of patience, the Americans had no choice but to issue an ultimatum—the sort usually delivered before the outbreak of hostilities: either you agree to revise the agreement with the Tehran government based on an equal split of profits—half for me, half for you—or we will force you to do so, even at the risk of inciting popular rage by dangling the prospect of nationalization. Relying—perhaps too heavily—on its own strength, the London government refused to listen. After all, it knew it could count not only on the tribes in the oil region—ready, as in the past, to give a hard time to any Tehran ministry that proved insufficiently “understanding” toward the British company—but also, this time, on the Persian government itself, whose leader, Razmara, was openly opposed to the proposed nationalization. But they miscalculated. The day Razmara dared to say no to the plan to expropriate the Anglo-Iranian Oil Company, a fanatic armed with a revolver appeared—seemingly by chance—and promptly eliminated him. After that, even the British realized it would be difficult to find a new Persian Prime Minister willing to risk his life to preserve the privileges of their oil concession.

A minister capable of taking on such a task was something London and Washington could only dream of; in Tehran, such a man was nowhere to be found.

Mossadegh—certainly no longer a young man—was not, in any case, the right person for such an undertaking. Swept to power by the euphoria of the moment—and perhaps also by Parliament’s malicious calculation to land the very man who had championed the nationalization project in hot water—the current head of the Persian government was primarily concerned with taking precautions. “Valiant”—as his name implies (a name bestowed upon him by the old Shah in gratitude for services rendered in his youth)—he was certainly not reckless. First, ensure his own safety by barricading himself securely within the Parliament building, and only then begin to deliberate: such was Mossadegh’s prudent maxim. [Mossadegh named himself, it means “true and authentic”] Naturally, we have no objection to the principle of nationalization—as long as the privileges we have enjoyed so far remain untouched. After all, nationalization can be carried out in many ways. Those implemented in Great Britain, for instance, left industries in the hands of the same executives as before, after generously rewarding the owners. Something similar could perhaps be done in Persia. It is simply a matter of agreeing on the principle that, once the Anglo-Iranian company is nationalized, the Tehran government would entrust its management to the same company, without substantially altering current profit levels.

What better solution than this—one that saves face legally while simultaneously protecting the interests of foreign monopolies? Even Truman, after careful reflection and having secured British complicity in other sensitive areas of Asia—such as the peace treaty with Japan—has come around to this view. This implies that American companies would be willing, for the time being, to settle for a compromise that—by cutting their British rivals’ profits to 50%—would open a door for them to gradually oust the British and take over the Persian fiefdom. That is why, following repeated and fruitless attempts by the US ambassador to the Shah and Mossadegh, a special envoy from President Truman is now setting out to persuade Persia to accept the British proposals. A compromise, therefore, appears to be in sight.

And yet, Mossadegh continues to play hard to get. He would prefer not to disappoint his American friends, but every time he is on the verge of yielding and resigning himself to burying the oil nationalization program, he hears the striking cry rising from the streets—a crowd that will hear nothing of it. And that cry—coming from the depths and resonating through every stratum of a population united as never before in its determination to put an end to foreign exploitation—is truly frightening. There is little cause to smile at his fainting spells and moments of dismay; one would like to see what anyone else in his position would be capable of doing. There are forces that, once awakened, can neither easily be lulled back to sleep nor subdued. How is Mossadegh to blame if the British and American oil barons, through their intrigues, ended up rousing the serpent that lay dormant within the bosom of old, corrupt Persian society? Now they expect to charm it back to sleep with the sweet words of democracy and Western solidarity. It is too late. Something more is required now.