The Symbolism of the Siege

By Strobe Talbott

Beyond the issue of securing the release of the hostages in Iran, the biggest immediate problem facing the Carter Administration is how to manage the symbolism of the siege--and, perhaps more important, the symbolism of its aftermath. There is great danger that the spectacle of youthful radicals, backed by an aged and atavistic theocrat, humiliating and terrorizing American diplomatic personnel will have become a symbol of U.S. weakness. On the battlefield of domestic politics, the past two weeks offer Jimmy Carter's bi-partisan legion of opponents an almost irresistible target for sniping. All a skillful stump speaker has to do is lament "the decline of American power and prestige," and his listeners will grit their teeth at the memory of Uncle Sam, a goat's skull for a head, burning in effigy in Tehran while the perpetrators, in a dramatic gesture of their discipline and outrageousness, collect trash in Old Glory.

In the international community, the reaction is likely to be more diffuse, but not less damaging to the Administration. Staunch allies, such as the NATO countries and Japan, ought to be aghast at an incident that so vividly demonstrates the limits of their senior partner's power. Friendly states in the Middle East, like Israel, Egypt and Saudi Arabia, will probably be more ambivalent: on the one hand, they may hope that the outrage will provoke the U.S. into playing a more assertive role in their region; on the other, they are sure to worry about how credible the U.S. performance will be. Said one prominent Saudi: "America has gotten a reputation for letting down its friends, and that won't be so easy to correct."

As for U.S. adversaries, particularly the Soviet Union, the events in Iran come as almost unmitigated good news, at least in the short run. The Kremlin is eager for the world, particularly the Third World, to believe that America is on the defensive, if not on the retreat. At the same time, the Soviet leadership is anxious to avoid the impression that the U.S.S.R. is leading the charge. That would violate the 1972 code of detente, which enjoins the superpowers from "efforts to obtain unilateral advantage," and it would jeopardize SALT II as well. Therefore, the Soviets prefer that the U.S. seem to be in a losing struggle not so much with a predatory Soviet Union as with the relentless "progressive" (i.e., anti-American) forces of history. In that sense Ayatullah Khomeini, his mobs and his minions are doing the Kremlin's work, even though they are not doing its bidding.

The Soviets concede privately that, in the longer term, the turmoil in Iran has potentially worrisome consequences for the U.S.S.R. Islamic fundamentalism is anathema to Communism, and the Ayatullah is religiously akin to the Muslims of Soviet Central Asia just across the border. On the other hand, the National Security Council last week pondered the possibility that anarchy in Iran could lead to a radical leftist takeover. No doubt the same possibility has occurred to Iran watchers in Moscow. That helps explain the ambiguity of Soviet behavior so far: provocative Farsi-language broadcasts from a Soviet radio station in Baku, combined with begrudging diplomatic support for the U.S. at the United Nations.

The Carter Administration is vulnerable, both politically and geopolitically, but not because of its handling of this particular crisis. Given the bizarre nature of the siege, the Administration may have had some excuse for being caught by surprise. It had no choice but to proceed with extreme caution. There is room for second-guessing the wisdom of dispatching a presidential emissary to the Ayatullah. Kibitzers, like Columnist Joseph Kraft, say that the very willingness to negotiate was a craven capitulation to blackmail. But if Ramsey Clark's mission had succeeded, it would have been hailed as a brilliant ploy. In a game that began because the other side broke the rules, the U.S. must play the long shots. Carter deserves credit for the right measure of firmness and prudence. The charge of ineffectually does not wash--not in this extraordinarily ticklish test of his leadership.

Carter's problem, instead, is one of context. It arises not from the Iran crisis per se so much as from an accumulation of controversial initiatives and responses, stretching back to the outset of his Administration. Many of them were justifiable in and of themselves but troublesome when strung together, because they suggest a pattern of uncertainty, inconsistency, inaction and weakness: the ambitious opening SALT proposal that was scrapped when the Soviets rudely rejected it; the presidential order to withdraw American troops from South Korea, since rescinded; the surprise and helplessness of the U.S. as the Shah was driven from Iran; the superficially similar expulsion of Tacho Somoza and the leftward lurch of Nicaragua; and the Administration's panic over its own discovery of a Soviet combat brigade in Cuba--first declaring it unacceptable, then, after some artful obfuscation, accepting it.

All this has contributed to the perception of a President who reacts rather than acts, who adjusts to change rather than guides it. In international relations and domestic politics alike, such perceptions can have the force of reality; enemies can exploit impressions more readily than actualities, since impressions are, by nature, more malleable. Countering the impression of weakness will be difficult for Carter. It would also be difficult for any successor, even if he were a tough talker who rode the present wave of anger right into the White House. The supercharged atmosphere of the current presidential campaign is a bit like the TV land parodied in the 1977 movie Network. The candidates risk falling into the role played by the late Peter Finch, that of a deranged anchorman who became a prime-time superstar by leading a coast-to-coast chant of "I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it any more!" Giving vent to the present national mood of frustration, with its over tones of jingoism, is much easier than prescribing a way of getting the hostages out alive, and salvaging America's prestige in the process. Criticizing Carter for sending the wrong signals is much easier than suggesting concrete actions that will send the right ones once this crisis is over. Contenders like Ted Kennedy, who have chastised Carter for not having a contingency plan, and critics like Henry Kissinger, who have decried his making "impotence a declaration of policy," have yet to assert--much less agree--where and exactly how the U.S. should throw its weight around.

James Schlesinger sardonically seconds Andrew Young's nomination of Khomeini for sainthood, saying that the Ayatullah has accomplished a "miracle" by uniting the American people. Not really. The U.S. is unified in its indignation, but indignation is not a foreign policy or a military strategy. Nor is there any sign that the country is united in a new determination to fight blackmail by oil with the self-discipline and self-sacrifice of energy conservation. On the looming but still largely hypothetical question of exactly what the U.S. should do next, even if all the hostages are freed, there is no stunning national consensus. There is, however, a nationwide, perhaps worldwide, predisposition to criticize Carter for softness if his response is restrained and cautious. Never mind that restraint and caution are precisely what is called for. Overreaction would exacerbate the turmoil in Iran and the instability of the region, which in turn could escalate into a conflict with the Soviet Union. That is the essence of Carter's dilemma: how to behave responsibly without looking weak. In a way, it is unfair, but as Carter (like John Kennedy before him) has said, life is unfair. The problem is especially unfair for a President who--throughout his stewardship and despite the virtues of individual policies--has failed to convey an overreaching sense of strength and cogency in his foreign policy as a whole.

--Strobe Talbott

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