Manucher Farmanfarmaian - Blood & Oil: A Princes Memoir of Iran, from the Shah to the Ayatollah

Table of Contents

To my mother and father,
and to my three children,
Roxane, Alexander, and Teymour

MANUCHER FARMANFARMAIAN

To my mother and father, my son, Kian,
and the Farmanfarmaian family

ROXANE FARMANFARMAIAN

You have only to endure to conquer.
You have only to persevere to save yourselves.

SIR WINSTON CHURCHILL

And other spirits there are standing apart
Upon the forehead of the age to come;
These, these will give the world another heart,
And other pulses. Hear ye not the hum
Of mighty workings in a distant mart?
Listen awhile, ye nations, and be dumb.

JOHN KEATS

Acclaim forBlood and Oil

A book of stunning beauty about an irretrievably lost world. One of the best accounts of the cultural and political life of modern Iran, it is exquisite and intimate, rendered with artistry and detail. FOUAD AJAMI, Johns Hopkins University

This delightful memoir shines a bright, penetrating light on the political and social history of Iran.... Rich in anecdotes. Superb. San Francisco Chronicle

This memoir is... distinguished by its political acumen, historical sense, and vividness of description and anecdote. It is also notable for a wry sense of humourpossibly a hereditary quality. [Farmanfarmaians] ancestors liked to dispose of suspect noblemen by inviting them for a cup of coffee. If they refused, they were executed for suggesting the coffee might be poisoned; if they accepted, they discovered that, unfortunately, it was.... There are also two lessons for western policy-makers. One is that if Iran today is anti-western, historically speaking it has some reason.... The other is that oil wealth by itself does nothing for the political stability of a country.... Amid the euphoria about the development of the oilfields of Central Asia and the Transcaucasus, this lesson should be kept in mind. ANATOL LIEVEN, Financial Times

This important and well-written tale benefits from Manucher Farmanfarmaians inside perspective and eye for detail. Business Week

Theres enough... deception, good times, deceit, victories and losses in other words, enough dramato make Blood and Oil hard not to enjoy. Detroit Free Press

A primer on dealing with Iran and the Middle East and the pitfalls of rapid modernization by developing countries... In addition to its value as a political and social history of Iran from 1920 to 1980, it is a delightful memoir of a man who has lived a fascinating life. Cleveland Plain Dealer

As colorful and sometimes as intricate as the design of a Persian carpet... a revolutionary tale told with grand bon vivant style. Publishers Weekly (starred)

Anyone who views Iran merely as a nation of Muslim fanatics should read this riveting exploration of its tortuous 20th-century history.... Farmanfarmaian details Irans labyrinthine internal politics and international relations with thoroughness enlivened by muscular prose, a sharp eye for character, and lots of good anecdotes. Biographies editor of Amazon.com (recommended title)

A sumptuous and absolutely spellbinding autobiography as well as a vivid tapestry of one nations turbulent modern history. Booklist (starred)

Fascinating. The New York Times

This remarkable memoir provides gripping reading. A dramatic personal adventure presented against the backdrop of Iranian history during the past century, it touches on the errors of the late Shah, the perfidies of Albion, the clumsiness of the United States, and the drama of oildown through the role of Khomeini. While the account is highly personalized, the judgments are revealing and the vignettes are entrancing. Strongly recommended for all who have any curiosity about Iran. JAMES SCHLESINGER, former secretary of defense and of energy

ESCAPE FROM THE AYATOLLAH

Dark night, fearful of the waves and whirlpools, such a fragile craft. What do they know of what we feel, those easy travelers on the shore?

HAFEZ

Tehran 1979

The house already looked abandoned. Behind the high garden walls the upstairs windows were shuttered. The striped awning over the balconys arched colonnades had been rolled up, revealing a patch of whiter paint where the house had been protected from the sun. I waited a long time at the gate after honking, not daring to honk again. At last the doors swung open. The old gardener stepped out suddenly with a little bow. I searched his face to see if he was one of the loyal ones, or if he had turned coat. His weak smile gave nothing away. I nodded as I drove past, but he was already scuttling into the back to give the alert that I had arrived.

My brother Khodadad answered the door himself. He looked worn and peered at me through red eyes. The grayness of sleepless nights creased his face. As we hugged I noticed his palms were sweating, despite the cool weather. Khodadad had always been the emotional one in the family; everything in his heart was written on his face. His hair had turned iron gray, but his smile still drew women like honey. Hed aged during his short stint in prison when the Pasdaran, Khomeinis revolutionary guards, had seized him as the ex-governor of the Central Bank.

Khodis career had been electric: chairman of the Central Bank, then head of the Plan Organization, where he crafted Irans economic plans. He was always the one people had heard of in the Westthe jovial Persian with doe eyes that theyd met at a conference at Princeton or whose long name theyd seen in academic journals or Ford Foundation reports. It rankled my own sense of pride. But now here he was, humbled, his hands shaking, anxious to leave the nightmare of Iran behind.

He spoke softly as though there were ears behind the sumptuous wallpaper of the vast hall. White sheets covered the gilt and velvet furniture, making the place look like a morgue. His American wife, Joanna, had left months before for London. Now he lived like a bachelor in only two or three rooms. I looked out the window of the library. It was Friday morning, and a quietness hung about the neighborhood. Not a car horn, not a single motorcycle, not even the voice of a child. The people were all downtown praying with the mad-voiced Ayatollah Montazeri, who led the Friday prayers from his pulpit at the university.