Iran Unplugged
Its radical President taunts the world, then tries a bit of charm-but offers no substantive concessions
UNITED NATIONS-As diplomatic roadshows go, this was the polar opposite of slick. No big ad buys, no polished PowerPoint presentations, and, certainly, no cocktail receptions. No, no. The host wore bland, off-the-rack white sport jackets paired with pale, open-collar shirts. But he drew a crowd, did Iran's Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, offering a rare up-close look at the new public face of Tehran's nuclear ambitions, its antipathy for Israel, and its zeal for regional muscle-flexing.
Even as whispers of war grew louder in Washington, Ahmadinejad launched his charm offensive hard on the heels of his denunciation of the United States in his address to the opening session of the U.N. General Assembly. He used his visit to New York to try to put a resolute-but-unthreatening face on Iran's aims-at an acutely delicate moment in the U.S.-led drive to get the U.N. Security Council to impose sanctions on Iran. The key countries in the coalition pressuring Iran are struggling to stick together on their insistence that Iran stop enriching uranium before formal talks can begin. A move to sanctions has been expected ever since Iran rebuffed the Security Council's August 31 deadline to halt uranium enrichment. The delays-"extra innings," as a top State Department official, Nicholas Burns, put it-come as Europe is probing both Iranian and U.S. officials for a compromise formula to get full-fledged negotiations started.
"Just friends?" The Iranian president seemed determined to soften his image as an implacable foe of America, chuckling and joking at times and, for the most part, lightening up on his often-fiery rhetoric. He praised Americans as "a strong people, a good people," urged "dialogue," and called for exchanges of scientists and students, along with direct flights between Iran and the United States. "Can't we just be friends?" he asked at one point in an unusual session at his Manhattan hotel with Iran specialists and a handful of journalists. Still, he grew steely-eyed in reply to a question from U.S. News about the Bush administration's apparent preference for "regime change" in Iran. Ahmadinejad had heard that "on numerous occasions," he said, but insisted that it would never happen. "They are not able to do that," he said.
On the most dangerous flashpoint, Ahmadinejad repeated assurances-dismissed in Washington and in most European capitals-that Iran's nuclear program "will be solely used for peaceful purposes." In any case, he said, nuclear weapons are proscribed by Islamic teachings. "The Iranian people," he said, "don't need a nuclear weapon." Ahmadinejad called the focus on uranium enrichment an "excuse" to try to deny Iran its right to nuclear energy. He also professed disappointment that President Bush didn't respond to his meandering, 21-page letter this spring or to his challenge to a debate at the United Nations.
Ahmadinejad remains a bit of a mystery to official Washington. A U.S. intelligence profile, U.S. News has learned, depicts him as seeing the world "in very black-and-white terms" yet also possessing the capacity to "change quite quickly." But Ahmadinejad came to America bearing no gifts-other than his gift of idiosyncratic oratory. He refused to yield to the U.N. demands. And he said nothing to disavow his past comments suggesting that the Holocaust is a myth and threatening Israel. These "constant provocations," as one European diplomat puts it, have served to rally Security Council opposition to the prospect of a nuclear-capable Iran. "He does have that quality," agrees a senior U.S. official. But Ahmadinejad's outbursts resonated with hard-liners in Iran and elsewhere in the region. "He has put Iran back on the map," says Sanam Vakil, an Iran specialist at the Johns Hopkins School of Advanced International Studies in Washington. "The common man still admires him."
"A teacher, not a murderer." Last week, however, Ahmadinejad muted his comments about the Holocaust, saying "If it's a historical event, let everybody research it." He complained that western media have been manipulated to portray him in a harsh light. "I'm not a murderer; I'm a teacher," said Ahmadinejad, 49, a former mayor of Tehran who holds a Ph.D. in civil engineering. Allied with the hard-line Revolutionary Guards and the Basij morality police, he was elected last year on the strength of a populist, anticorruption appeal that outflanked more senior politicians. Still, even as president, Ahmadinejad ranks behind the country's supreme leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei.
Ahmadinejad dismissed Bush's calls for Iranian democracy, insisting that Iran already enjoys one that "is actually very sublime." He made no direct references to the jailing of dissidents, closure of opposition newspapers, and seizure of TV satellite dishes bringing in outside information. And he suggested that Americans are likelier to land in jail for criticizing their government than are Iranians. "His defense is, 'Look at all the faults in your society,'" said Gary Sick, a Columbia University professor and U.S. official during the Iran Embassy hostage crisis who also attended the meeting. "I think he has a very limited understanding of what goes on politically in the United States."
The Iranian leader also argued that the U.S. military role in Iraq and administration policies generally in the Mideast were undermining America's position. "All the people of the region are beginning to hate the U.S. government," he said. Ahmadinejad pledged Iranian support for stabilizing the Iraqi government. The Pentagon charges that Iran is doing just the opposite, supplying violent Shiite militias in Iraq with weaponry-along with arming the Hezbollah militia in Lebanon.
"America can be a friend of Iran. Why are you an enemy?" Ahmadinejad mused. Americans are still wondering the same thing about Iran.
Blacksmith's Son Breaks Bread in New York
NEW YORK-In the West, he's often condemned as a menace; in parts of the Islamic world, though, he's hailed as the man who defies America. In person, Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad exudes something like serenity as he fends off questions-scratching his salt-and-pepper beard and flashing a wry smile that suggests an almost breezy confidence, or even cockiness.
At an unusual meeting in midtown Manhattan last week attended by U.S. News, this son of the Islamic Revolution strode into the room with a broad smile and a wave, then sat quietly, sipping tea and barely touching his breakfast. Ahmadinejad seemed determined to use a series of meetings with foreign-policy specialists, journalists, and religious figures to shave some of the edges off his hard-line image. He posed for a few pictures and shook hands-though not with women, as Islamic custom dictates.
Up close. A pious Muslim, though not a cleric like his predecessor, Ahmadinejad cited verses from the Koran and often returned to Islamic references. He spoke in an informal, colloquial style of Farsi-one facet of the populist appeal this son of a blacksmith has used to advantage with the Iranian public. His outward calm reflects "a Sufi-like detachment from desire," William Beeman, a Brown University anthropologist, said after the meeting. "This plays fantastically in Iran."
Ahmadinejad is also a veteran of the brutal Iran-Iraq War of the 1980s, a seminal experience for many poor but zealous followers of the Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini. He grew most animated when recalling the vast losses Iran suffered-and its willingness to sacrifice for "our sacred defense." It is a fervor, he seemed to be suggesting, that remains alive should Iran ever be attacked again.
This story appears in the October 2, 2006 print edition of U.S. News & World Report.