Is Iran paranoid or does it really have something to hide?
A visit to Iran to see its nuclear programme saw hopes of a meeting with Ahmadinejad raised then dashed, writes Julian Borger
by Julian Borger in Isfahan
The man from the Iranian embassy spoke in awed tones as if we had won Willy Wonka's golden ticket. A select group of European and American journalists would be allowed to see Iran's nuclear programme in its entirety, from the uranium enrichment plant in Natanz to the heavy water reactor in Arak. Plus, there would be an interview with the Iranian president, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, on his nation's aspirations and its response to UN sanctions. "This has never happened before," the diplomat said.
By the time we set out on July 19, however, it was clear there was some disagreement back in Tehran over exactly what would be made public and the trip was twice postponed and then brought forward once. Doubts began to creep in that it was going to happen at all.
Sure enough, when the group (comprising the Guardian, the Independent, National Public Radio from the US, le Monde and le Nouvel Observateur from France) assembled at Tehran's Mehrabad airport two days later, this particular episode in Iranian glasnost was beginning to fade.
Natanz dropped off the itinerary first. The uranium enrichment site there, where Iran has installed over 2,000 centrifuges, is the focus of international scrutiny. The number of centrifuges spinning uranium hexafluoride gas will determine how quickly the country can manufacture nuclear fuel, and if it so chose, a nuclear warhead. We were told there were "technical problems" at the site. Were also informed our presence would interrupt important work at Natanz. Either way, it was off the menu.
Arak, another controversial site because heavy water reactors are one way of producing plutonium, also faded fast from a certainty to an inshallah (God willing) possibility. And it was made clear that divine intervention would also be necessary to secure some time with the president. In the end, inevitably, neither materialised.
We protested things that this was not what had been advertised when we were told to drop everything and rush to Tehran. But the two men from the foreign ministry shrugged and said they were trying their best. And almost certainly they were. The trip was a reminder that the foreign ministry carries little clout in a government that is still run like a revolutionary conspiracy rather than a public administration, and where those with links to foreigners are treated with suspicion. For the foreign ministry, that is something of an institutional liability.
We were offered other distractions, while being driven around in a VIP air-conditioned bus with luxury revolving seats. We were shown Isfahan, an undeniably beautiful city. Perhaps we would like to see its splendid steelworks, we were asked. Perhaps not, we replied.
In the end, we were shown around Isfahan's uranium conversion plant, where uranium is transformed from a processed ore, "yellowcake", to uranium hexafluoride. It is 15km south-east of the city, wedged up against some sandstone mountains, where commercial satellite photos have shown some new roads and possible tunnelling. When I asked about the photos, our guides shrugged and smiled. "If that's what they [the Americans] say we're doing, then that's what we're doing," said an engineer, with heavy irony, weary of the constant international suspicion.
There is no mistaking the pride that surrounds the nuclear project here. A film shown before our tour began records the production of the first uranium hexafluoride at Isfahan some three years ago. At its climax, the then deputy head of the atomic energy organisation, Mohammad Ghanadi, can be seen running out of the plant holding the inaugural vial above his head, wiping a tear from his eye. With a pulsing electronic soundtrack, it was reminiscent of Chariots of Fire.
The government has made something of a fetish of uranium enrichment, persuading the population it is synonymous with development and prosperity. Four out of five Iranians support the programme, according to a recent poll. But that public support is double-edged. It would make it very hard for President Ahmadinejad to climb down from his adamant refusal to suspend enrichment, even if he wanted to.
Iranian officials say nuclear power generation is necessary because the country's oil will eventually run out, and will not be able to keep an expanding economy going. But, even if that is the case, you might expect to see more nuclear reactors being built. At the moment there is only the power plant at Bushehr, which is supposed just to use Russian fuel.
Iran is also making few attempts to economise on fossil fuel. Urban Iranians have a carbon footprint to challenge even the Americans. The one-hour trip from Tehran to Isfahan is made on a 747 jumbo jet, at the cost of about £10 each way per person. Petrol costs about 10p a litre, so Tehran is usually one continuous traffic jam. On Friday there is gridlock at midnight. And electricity is 70% subsidised. Seen from the air at nights, the capital burns as bright as any American metropolis. Because petrol is sold so cheaply, it makes no economic sense to build refineries in Iran, but because of the absence of refineries there is actually a petrol shortage. Rather than raise prices, the government has introduced rationing, handing out smart cards that limit most users to 100 litres a month. There was an initial wave of protests a month ago when the scheme was first introduced but those have since faded. The lull may be an illusion though. Many people have burned through much of the four-month ration on their initial smart card in just over 30 days. When the cards run out and people can no longer get to work, there is likely to be another bout of anger and frustration.
In a way, the artificial scarcity serves to reinforce the government's arguments that nuclear power is essential. Iran's row with Russia over Bushehr (Moscow says it hasn't been paid and has withdrawn some of its workers) also helps underscore the message that Iran cannot rely on foreigners for its nuclear fuel.
We were taken to see Bushehr, which is still under construction and it was clear the Iranians and the Russians were not getting along. The Russians keep to themselves in their own compounds in the Gulf coast port, and there is hardly any social mixing. On the side of the reactor wall, someone had scrawled, in Russian: "Everything passes and we will get past this." Perhaps not, though. The Iranian government is feeling beleaguered and defiant. It believes any more sanctions will rally popular support behind it, as would air strikes. So Tehran does not feel it has much to lose and it is calling the west's bluff.
The failure so far to answer all the IAEA (International Atomic Energy Agency) questions about past nuclear activities - just like the last-minute rethink on what we were allowed to see - could mean Iran has something to hide. Or it could just mean that the country is being run by a rather dysfunctional and indecisive government that is slightly paranoid about the outside world. Perhaps the truth involves a bit of both.
Pertinent Links:
1) Is Iran paranoid or does it really have something to hide?
Thursday, August 02, 2007
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