Britain's embassy in Iran is reopening – but how long will it last this time?
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Version 0 of 1. One welcome side-effect of the otherwise horrifying rise of Isis in Iraq is the sudden friendliness between Iran and the west, who now find themselves firm enemies' enemies. As a result, the foreign secretary has announced that Britain will reopen its embassy in Tehran. This is not a small gesture. In November 2011, following Britain's decision to freeze $1.6bn of Iranian assets, the embassy staff and their families went through a very frightening time. Both the grand compound in central Tehran and the leafy residence in Gholhak Garden to the north were overrun by student members of the basij, a state-controlled militia, while Iranian police just watched. Computers and phones were taken and the whole place vandalised, prompting the British government to evacuate all staff and close the embassy. The decision to return cannot have been easy. Nor does history offer much hope for a happy ending. This particular embassy has been opening and closing almost continuously for the past century, like a shop that nobody can find quite the right use for. Iran's obsession with Britain as a persistent meddler in its affairs is almost as old as Britain's meddling, which goes back to the 19th century. In 1943, the main building was deemed a suitably secure place for Winston Churchill to celebrate his 69th birthday, in the company of Joseph Stalin and Franklin D Roosevelt, during the Tehran conference. In 1952, however, suspecting that Britain was plotting to overthrow him after his nationalisation of a British oil company, the Iranian prime minister, Mohammad Mosaddegh, sent all embassy staff home. Outraged, the British government plotted to overthrow him, and in 1953 it succeeded. During the Islamic revolution of 1979, when the Shah was overthrown, the British embassy was not invaded like the American one (although Gholhak did shelter six US diplomats for the night, contrary to Ben Affleck's version of events in Argo). Instead, with the kind of wit not normally associated with Islamic fundamentalists, the new regime renamed the road it stands on "Bobby Sands Street", meaning its letterhead would be a memorial to the IRA hunger-striker. The building has been the scene of almost constant protests ever since. In 1987, after Edward Chaplin, a senior British diplomat, was kidnapped and beaten by revolutionary guards, it was virtually closed down – reopening in 1989 just in time for the fatwa to be declared against Salman Rushdie. Generally, however, the protests have been less serious, and at times almost good-natured. A correspondent for the Economist tells the story of a basij member knocking politely at the front door to ask if he could plug in their amplifier. After being told it wouldn't fit a British plug socket, he went away, only to come back shortly afterwards to ask if the ambassador might have a spare Union Jack for them to burn. Britain's next ambassador to Iran is sure to have an interesting time, in short, but they might not want to pack anything too fragile. |