Seizure of Abadan

When Prime Minister Clement Attlee told the House of Commons last July that His Majesty's government would not withdraw from Abadan completely, the British lion seemed ready for an oldtime imperial roar. From Cyprus to the Persian Gulf, British paratroops, marines and warships stood by. They were ready to go into action if Iran tried to seize the Anglo-Iranian Oil Co.'s huge refinery.

Last week, when Iran did seize the refinery, the lion made no sound beyond a gritting of teeth.

Eviction & Histrionics. The Iranian government of Premier Mohammed Mossadeq mailed businesslike notices to the 300 remaining British staff members of the oil company: "[By] Thursday, Oct. 4, 1951 . . . you are required to have left this country." Iranian tanks clanked on to Abadan island, and Iranian troops stood guard at the refinery gates, barring the Britons from entrance. Iranian spokesmen vowed they would blow up the refinery if the British made any move to send in armored forces.

Premier Mossadeq added his own trembly display of histrionics. In Teherran's Parliament Square, he harangued a large crowd, berating British policy in Iran. Shouts of "Down with the British!" welled up again & again from his audience. Mossadeq responded: "People, do not say, 'Down with the British!' . . . I want you to say, 'Allah should guide the British into the right path.' "

Fluidity & Security. The British cruiser Mauritius lay at anchor off Abadan, but no order for action came from London. Instead, Clement Attlee called his ministers to more emergency sessions over the Iran crisis. A show of force, the Prime Minister decided, must be collective. He dispatched an urgent personal message to President Harry Truman in Washington. Its contents were not disclosed. The U.S. reply cautioned against force, urged "moderation" and "fluidity."

Attlee's quandary could not have arisen at a more inopportune moment. The Labor government, campaigning for reelection, had its back to the wall. It was under attack for weakness in Iran. At a Yorkshire rally, the Prime Minister cried, a little petulantly, "People say 'Let us have a strong foreign policy.' .'. . Does it mean that you rattle a saber? . . . draw the saber? We have accepted the rule of law. It is our job to uphold the authority of the United Nations."

As the British technicians packed up to leave Abadan, London sent a belated distress call to U.N. headquarters in New York. Attlee's government requested an immediate Security Council meeting to consider a British complaint against Iran for endangering international peace and security.

This week, at Flushing Meadows, the Security Council began its hearing. Britain's chief U.N. delegate, Sir Gladwyn Jebb, flew the Atlantic to state the British case in his crisp fashion. Law seemed to be on his side: last July the International Court of Justice called for maintenance of the status quo in Iran until the oil dispute could be settled by negotiation.

From Teheran came reports that Mossadeq himself would fly to the Council meeting, to argue, and probably to weep and faint, in defense of his government's reckless course. Possession (in the old saying, nine points of the law) was on his side.

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