58 NOVEMBER-DECEMBER 2025 | THE FOREIGN SERVICE JOURNAL The Game Went On After royal authority collapsed in Tehran on February 11, 1979, Tabriz, Iran’s second city, was in chaos, and Consul Metrinko—seeking to protect a group of Americans held in the local prison—was captured, threatened with lynching, released, recaptured, and threatened with a trial, until he and his chargés were sent to Tehran on February 18. He remained in the capital as political officer, doing excellent reporting until the final collapse in November. In a bizarre postscript straight from Kafka, in October 1979, while Metrinko was on leave in Washington, the State Department arranged for him to meet senior officials to discuss his insightful reporting on deteriorating conditions in Iran. As Anderson describes the scene (page 391): “Arriving at the conference room a few minutes early, Metrinko was going over his notes for his presentation when a departmental security officer approached to ask if they could speak in the hallway. There, the security officer explained that the meeting had been given a security classification higher than Metrinko had clearance to attend. Metrinko politely inquired if the officer understood that the reason for the meeting was to discuss his reporting. ‘Yeah,’ came the reply. ‘Doesn’t matter.’” You can’t make this stuff up. The farce continued even while colleagues were reporting what they were seeing and hearing. In July 1979, Chief of Mission Bruce Laingen told Secretary of State Cyrus Vance in the clearest and most polite language that although the U.S. might want to admit the shah to the United States at some future date, to do so under present conditions would have three outcomes: (1) Bazargan’s moderate provisional government—already besieged by extremists of left and right—would collapse; (2) any chance of restoring some sort of U.S.-Iran relationship would disappear; and (3) the U.S. embassy could no longer operate in Tehran. So, what did the president and his advisers do three months after receiving this unambiguous message? They admitted the shah, creating a story about his illness that, even if true, no Iranian was going to believe; left Laingen, Metrinko, and their colleagues in Tehran to face the consequences; and appeared surprised and unprepared when their house of cards collapsed on November 4. Ignorance and Honor Scholars still argue about the events of the Iranian Revolution and its brutal aftermath. In simple terms, who can explain the continued existence of an Iranian theocracy in the 21st century? Those in power under the monarchy blame everyone but themselves and have made President Carter the revolution’s chief engineer. Just months before his July 1980 death in Cairo, when confined to a hospital bed in New York, the deposed shah received Ambassador Richard Helms and his wife, Cynthia, for a visit. According to Cynthia’s memoir, An Ambassador’s Wife in Iran (1981), the shah bitterly and insistently pressed Ambassador Helms to tell him why the Americans decided to get rid of the monarchy and replace it with the rule of a 75-year-old seminarian. In King of Kings, Anderson puts aside grand strategy and conspiracy theories. He has provided us instead with the wellwritten account of a highly skilled journalist and novelist. The author of two novels and five works of nonfiction, including the well-received Lawrence in Arabia (2013), he worked as a war correspondent from 1983 to 2011, covering the Lebanese Civil War, Northern Ireland, Bosnia, the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, Darfur, and Libya. Anderson brings wit and insight to his writing, which emphasizes the human element in historical narratives, focusing on individuals caught up in the sweep of larger conflicts or political crises. Attuned to the apparent haphazardness of the Iranian Revolution, Anderson has written a fascinating narrative full of “oh no!” and “might have been.” Everyone, including the revolutionaries, was groping; everyone was improvising. They were not playing chess—where everything is seen and planned—but backgammon, a game Iranians invented and still adore. In backgammon, like politics, a player improvises, reacts, and cannot plan more than one or two moves ahead. Chance plays a vital role, and a fortunate or unfortunate roll of the dice will upend the entire game. Coda In 2005, as president of the American Foreign Service Association, I met with a staffer from the office of the Senate majority leader to seek the leader’s all-important support for legislation benefiting the Foreign Service. After listening to my presentation, the staffer said, “That’s all well and good, but many here believe that you FSOs have a very cushy life.” It was difficult to stay polite, but I could say only: “A cushy life!? Have you seen my career? Guinea. Iran. Mauritania. Sudan. Iraq. Where’s the cush?” A few of our colleagues asked: “Is unconditional support for the shah the best policy for the U.S.?”
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