Failed Alliances of the Cold War: Britain’s Strategy and Ambitions in Asia and the Middle East 9780755625864, 9781848859746

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To Yiannis, Dimitra-Mimi and Timos

List of Abbreviations ANZUS Australia New Zealand United States (defence agreement) BBC British Broadcasting Corporation BRIAM British Advisory Mission CENTO Central Treaty Organisation CIA Central Intelligence Agency (USA) CRO Commonwealth Relations Office (UK) FCO Foreign and Commonwealth Office (UK) GDP Gross Domestic Product HMG Her Majesty’s Government JCS Joint Chiefs of Staff (US) JIC Joint Intelligence Committee (UK) MACV Military Assistance Command Vietnam (USA) MEC Middle East Command MEDO Middle East Defence Organisation MIDEASTFOR Middle East Force (US) MoD Ministry of Defence (UK) MPO Military Planning Office NAM Non-Alignment Movement NATO North Atlantic Treaty Organisation SAS Special Air Service (UK) SAM Surface-to-Air Missile SEATO South East Asia Treaty Organisation UAR United Arab Republic UNFICYP United Nations Force In Cyprus

Acknowledgments

Rosalie Spire provided excellent research assistance, and the staff at the National Archives, Kew, deserve a special mention for their advice and responsiveness. I also consulted the libraries of King’s College London, the London School of Economics (LSE), the Royal United Services Institute (RUSI) and the School of Oriental and Asian Studies (SOAS), all of whose staff were invariably polite, well-informed and helpful. Olympia Wood, John Wood and Peter Barnes offered their valued contributions to copy-editing, and I would like to thank my editors Jenna Steventon and Tomasz Hoskins at I.B.Tauris for their meticulous work. Finally, I owe a great debt to my family, Yiannis, Dimitra-Mimi and Timos, for their moral and material support, for the insightful foreign-policy and history-oriented conversations we have had, and for believing over all these years in my work.

INTRODUCTION

Alliances are as old as war; tribes, city-states, nation-states, sovereign states joined in treaties so as to defend their own territory, to help ensure their very survival in the face of an enemy. If their opponent was deemed too strong to be confronted without help, pride gave way to necessity, and short- or longterm alliances, usually dominated by the stronger party, came into being. From the Delos pact instituted by a prosperous Athens, primus inter pares in classical Greece, to NATO’s ‘war on terror’ today, states have understood the utility of cementing alliances – finding ways to bring in other parties to back them in their own security policy. But what is the unique factor that every alliance needs for its existence? To survive, an alliance needs a threat, an enemy; and it is on the fact of such a threat that the alliance depends. The threat of an invasion, for instance, raises fears about both the present and the immediate future, and this anxiety makes even hard-nosed nationalist leaders and generals think twice, and sign a pact to establish an alliance – sharing military information, coordinating diplomatic initiatives, drafting war plans together, participating in joint exercises. No doubt common values and ideologies and shared interests, as well as balance-of-power considerations, contribute to joining forces, setting up economic-aid programmes and creating well-organised alliance structures such as permanent military committees. But the fear of an imminent or short-term threat (possibly in the form of a surprise attack by a seemingly powerful opponent) remains the vital ingredient that nurtures alliances. In the twentieth century, the Axis, the Entente, the Allies, the Central Powers, the Warsaw Pact and later NATO all proved themselves successful alliances, though Axis and the Central Powers lost their wars and the Warsaw Pact was defeated in the Cold War. What signals success in the endurance of alliances? To win the war in the first place. But we may add a couple of other criteria. Success for an alliance means also staying together against all

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odds, maintaining the same (or roughly the same) perceptions of the threat, sharing a common security policy, enduring despair at the possibility of defeat, but fighting to the end and never abandoning your ally; it means planning together, sharing a command structure, technology and topsecret information (like the much valued – and always top secret – signals intelligence and decrypts). The success of an alliance can also be identified with honesty: true allies maintain goodwill, and do not attempt to extort excessive military and economic aid from each other; conferences between them should not resemble nineteenth-century Arab or Asian bazaars, where grotesque bargaining tactics are deemed acceptable behaviour. (Let us keep this in mind when we examine in the following chapters the positions CENTO and SEATO allies took during conferences.) Does genuine fear of invasion and defeat bring honesty in dealings with allies? It is a daunting question, with debatable answers; in the case of Stalin – who certainly lacked goodwill as an ally – we may argue that only the fear of total catastrophe at the hands of Nazi Germany induced him to cooperate with Churchill and (later) Roosevelt. Indeed, Churchill reflecting on his troubles in dealing with Stalin remarked ‘the only thing worse than allies is not having allies.’1 The expediency of the alliance of Britain with Russia and the United States put emphasis on survival confronting the Axis, while the divergent strategic priorities (not to mention ideologies and military doctrines and traditions), post-war visions as well as Kremlin’s suspiciousness towards the West inhibited rational understanding amongst the allies.2 Finally, a clause along the lines of NATO’s Article 5 seems to be an absolutely necessary legal provision for establishing clear commitments and obligations, while demonstrating the alliance’s coherence to the rest of the world. However, such statements will serve little purpose in comparisons between the Entente, Axis and Anglo-American-Soviet summit consultations and agreements, because they were concluded in different geostrategic global environments (the 1900s, 1930s and 1940s respectively). All these assumptions do not offer a theory; they merely help in setting a general benchmark for assessing cooperation among states. NATO, the most successful and resilient alliance of the second half of the twentieth century, won the Cold War, then intervened in Bosnia and Kosovo in the 1990s, but today confronts unpredicted challenges in insurgency-torn Afghanistan; certain member states debate (or even seek to downgrade) their own commitment in the campaign against the Taliban and al-Qaida. Britain and the United States carry the main burden of counter-insurgency, but other member states abstain from the combat zones, believing (though not stating openly) that the threat to them posed

Introduction

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by fundamentalist Islamist fighters does not justify a larger commitment – to put their soldiers in harm’s way to help pacify Afghanistan and to defeat the Taliban and al-Qaida. National caveats prevent some NATO members contributing effectively to the counter-insurgency effort, for instance with special forces and assault helicopters. Logistics and security/support as well as money for development projects have been offered in place of front-line fighting units. NATO has effectively been turned into a two-tier alliance, with mainly the USA and the UK in tier one, and the other member states in qualified assignments constrained by national caveats. In December 2009 it was announced that 5000 more NATO troops would join the campaign in Afghanistan, but that their deployment would be piecemeal and their real contribution limited, since the issue of national caveats has not been resolved; operational efficiency thus remains impaired.3 This book explores the failure of two West-sponsored Cold War alliances similar to NATO: the South East Asia Treaty Organisation (SEATO) and the Central Treaty Organisation (CENTO), in Asia and the Middle East respectively. On paper these two defence organisations would deter any Russian and/or Chinese adventurism in their respective areas of responsibility. Established in the 1950s (SEATO in 1954, CENTO in 1959) they showed themselves fine examples of the West’s alliance-making diplomacy in the aftermath of the Korean War. Britain, Iran, Pakistan, Turkey and the USA (the last of these as an observer, and later as an associate member) formed CENTO after the demise of the Baghdad Pact in 1959. Britain and America were the key powers in SEATO, which also included Pakistan, Australia, France, New Zealand, the Philippines and Thailand. This study will focus on the history of SEATO and CENTO, but will not attempt to compare them; their members belonged to different areas, had different traditions, histories, policies and aspirations, and the internal and external security challenges they confronted were too different to contrast. Throughout the Cold War – from the Berlin and the Suez crises to the war in Vietnam, the Russian invasion of Afghanistan and the start of the Iran-Iraq war – Asia and the Middle East (and of course Europe) absorbed the attention of Whitehall strategists and their American counterparts, preoccupied as they always were with their strategy of containment with respect to the Soviet Union and China. The strategic value of the oil-rich Middle East was always self-evident to planners and their political masters, while the ‘domino theory’, especially with respect to Southeast Asia, paved the way for a strong American interest in defending the region from communist subversion. Thus anti-communist alliances similar to NATO (established in 1949) were to be set up so as to block communist expansion.

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Anglo-American diplomacy worked hard at convincing regional states to join the new alliances, offering them – carefully, mindful of the need to avoid upsetting the regional balance of power, and causing an arms race – military and economic aid. There were also other key motives of British policy. In the 1950s, the UK assumed that formal alliances could avert American adventurist unilateralism that might otherwise provoke war with China and/or Russia. Besides, a strong alliance with Washington could help in preserving Britain’s status as a world power in times of austerity, a notion to be explored in Chapter 1. The central argument of this book, assessing British and to a lesser extent American strategy and ambitions for CENTO and SEATO, is that the absence of a Russian and/or Chinese threat of invasion led to the demise of these alliances, since key regional members – notably Iran and Pakistan – lost interest in continuing with the organisations. No actual deterrence was ever implemented, because there was no real threat to be deterred in the first place. Besides, all the allies showed themselves willing to make only qualified commitments to the defence pacts. The Indo-Pakistani wars, the Vietnam War, the détente with Soviet Russia and finally the fall of the Shah of Iran in 1979 cost SEATO and CENTO their very existence. The allies maintained notably different policy priorities. The USA sought to draw SEATO into the Vietnam confrontation; Australia and New Zealand dispatched forces, but in Britain Harold Wilson simply refused. In the post-Korean War era no serious threat would come from China or Russia. Pakistan attempted to persuade CENTO and SEATO members that the real threat to its national security came from India, while Britain, following its policy of withdrawal from East of Suez, manoeuvred skilfully in the committees of both alliances, avoiding further military commitments. London deemed the notions of communist ‘subversion’ and ‘insurgency’ (which terms had replaced ‘invasion’ or ‘aggression’ to describe officially acknowledged threats) too feeble to hold CENTO and SEATO members together. The regional members assumed that they could follow their own defence-policy agendas, without regard to the alliances’ strict anticommunist mission – to which they had all signed up. Eventually, SEATO was dissolved in 1977, with CENTO following suit in 1979, after the fall of the Shah in Iran and the withdrawal of Pakistan. In the years of détente the alliances had proved themselves redundant. CENTO and SEATO have yet to attract much academic attention.4 NATO is the key alliance studied by Cold War scholars, and a great deal of literature is dedicated to Anglo-American relations and the British decision on withdrawal from East of Suez. Research into CENTO and SEATO can

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provide a detailed picture of intra-alliance politics and antagonisms, and assess British strategy over these alliances, adding a missing piece to British Cold War historiography. The key questions this book attempts to answer are: Why did CENTO and SEATO fail? To what extent did Britain boost the alliances, and what were the dividends gained? Did CENTO’s and SEATO’s raisons d’être convince their constituent members, especially the USA and its regional allies, Iran and Pakistan? What was the actual or evolving military threat, if any, that faced CENTO and SEATO? These questions will be answered with the help of the latest declassified British files – Foreign Office, Ministry of Defence and Prime Minister’s office – and of American archives (notably the volumes on Foreign Relations of the United States), and not with international-relations and alliancemaking theory. This study reveals that international defence organisations wither once the principal partners come to assume that there is no major aggressor ready to attack them. The perceptions of a conventionally armed enemy (or an alliance) ready to invade, and of alliance-making for defence, are two sides of the same coin: they need one another for the alliance to be credible.

1 Britain and the United States: Shaping Alliances beyond NATO ‘Pactomania’ is a term referring to the American urge to form anticommunist alliances in Asia and the Middle East during and after the Korean War, in order to contain Russia. 1 In the world of the Cold War the USA promoted the establishment not only of bilateral alliances but of international organisations for collective defence, following the creation of NATO in 1949. However, the word ‘mania’ here is misleading, implying American over-willingness to make military commitments in advance of war planning, demonstrating strong interest in their allies’ security. As this chapter documents, the drive for anti-communist alliances was checked by the desire of Britain and the USA not to upset their relations with key third countries (e.g. India and Israel), as well as to avoid putting ‘boots on the ground’ – costly troop deployments under the auspices of allied war planning. The ‘New Look’ policy examining the employment of strategic and tactical nuclear weapons from the outset of any new world war was a key factor that inhibited the dispatch of US troops. While military staffs were trying to cope with the nightmarish scenarios of nuclear war, London and Washington based their qualified alliance-making commitments on the premise of low conventional Russian and/or Chinese military threats in Asia or the Middle East. The domino theory – as perceived by the Eisenhower administration, the State Department, the Pentagon and the CIA – was a key factor in the spread of American defence, security and economic-aid programmes in Asia and the Middle East in the 1950s. The President grasped the attention of his audience in 1954 with his simplistic but influential metaphor: states were similar to dominos, thus: ‘You have a row of dominos set up, you knock over the first one, and … the last one … will go over very quickly. So you could have … disintegration that would have the most profound

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influences.’2 The domino theory was based on the fear that if one country went communist (either by invasion, subversion or opting to align with Moscow or Beijing), more would follow, especially in Southeast Asia. The domino metaphor sounded reasonable to statesmen and military officers who in their mid-career had witnessed the appeasement policy of Neville Chamberlain, giving Hitler a free hand in Czechoslovakia without securing peace. Nonetheless, President Eisenhower, a shrewd and cautious player, was not eager to give his regional allies all they asked for, and would not commit US forces even in draft war-planning. On the British side, the key motivations for building alliances had been two: first, Britain needed to preserve her world-power status in Europe, Asia and the Middle East, as argued by Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden in a memorandum of 18 June 1952 entitled ‘British Overseas Obligations’, and by the Chiefs of Staff study ‘Review of Defence Policy and Global Strategy’, completed in the same month. The second strategic motivation was that Britain needed a great deal of help in this endeavour – by 1951 the balance of payments was in deficit to the tune of £369 million, with defence spending rising from 8 to 14 per cent of GDP. Eden, in a bid to shore up Britain’s prestige, urged the cabinet to concur in a policy of creating alliances, with Washington evolving into a key funding source for these organisations, whose existence would support British policy in Asia and the Middle East. The prime minister’s argument was Machiavellian enough, and assumed that the Americans would be naïve enough to foot the immense bills: [We] should persuade the United States to assume the real burdens in such organisations [alliances in Asia and the Middle East] while retaining for ourselves as much political control – and hence prestige and world influence – as we can … the more gradually and inconspicuously we can transfer the real burdens from our own to American shoulders, the less damage we shall do to our position and influence in the world. 3 This was the power-by-proxy concept – a fine theoretical exercise. However, by 1953 John Foster Dulles, the US Secretary of State, suspected his allies of seeking to check American policy initiatives in the future because they ‘would be exposed to veto by those consulted, with subsequent handicaps of freedom of action’; policy options would have to focus on ‘the lowest denomination of boldness and capacity among the consulting nations’.4 Indeed, the Foreign Office feared that unless Washington was not bound by some sort of formal alliance in Asia and the

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Middle East, they would ‘drag, by unilateral action, the western world into a full scale war with China – or worse.’5 British diplomats had in mind the attitude of General Douglas MacArthur during the first phase of the Korean war, and were justified in worrying about American ‘freedom of action.’ Ironically, once SEATO and CENTO were established, the USA avoided boosting these alliances and limited its investment in them, focusing on its bilateral agreements with regional allies. (With reference to Vietnam, however, Washington pressured its SEATO allies – largely without success – to confront Hanoi.) Eventually, in their effort to build new alliances, Britain and USA stood together in conferences, but Washington worried about being identified with the return of colonialism, as post-war British policy was viewed by regional nationalists. The Malaya insurgency that commenced in June 1948 was a notable example: the Americans abstained from supporting the British, even refused to supply them with 10,000 carbines for the constabulary, following a request from the British deputy police commissioner.6 In British eyes, ‘the full development of [Southeast Asia] can only be brought about with United States assistance, but at present there is an obvious reluctance on the part of the Americans to risk a further loss after their experience in China [with the victory of communist leader Mao Tse-tung]’.7 The conflict in Indochina and the end of French rule there preoccupied British and French policy in Asia in the early 1950s. Eventually, on 21 July 1954, the Geneva Final Declaration on Indochina was drafted by British, Russian, French and Vietnamese representatives – though the Americans refused to sign it, while stating that the agreement was to be respected: The Conference also takes note of the declarations made by the Governments of Cambodia (4) and Laos (5) of their resolution not to request foreign aid, whether in war material, in personnel or in instructors except for the purpose of the effective defence of their territory and, in the case of Laos, to the extent defined by the agreements on the cessation of hostilities in Laos. [article 4] The Conference takes note of the clauses in the agreement on the cessation of hostilities in Viet-Nam to the effect that no military base under the control of a foreign State may be established in the regrouping zones of the two parties, the latter having the obligation to see that the zones allotted to them shall not constitute part of any military alliance and shall not be utilized for the resumption of hostilities or in the service of an aggressive policy. The Conference also takes note of the

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declarations of the Governments of Cambodia (6) and Laos (7) to the effect that they will not join in any agreement with other States if this agreement includes the obligation to participate in a military alliance not in conformity with the principles of the Charter of the United Nations or, in the case of Laos, with the principles of the agreement on the cessation of hostilities in Laos or, so long as their security is not threatened, the obligation to establish bases on Cambodian or Laotian territory for the military forces of foreign Powers.[article 5] In their relations with Cambodia, Laos and Viet-Nam, each member of the Geneva Conference undertakes to respect the sovereignty, the independence, the unity and the territorial integrity of the abovementioned states, and to refrain from any interference in their internal affairs. [article 12]8 Essentially, the 1954 Geneva Declaration would hold until the Bay of Tonkin incident in August 1964, and the commencement of considerable US military involvement in Vietnam. According to the Geneva conference ruling, national elections would be held in 1956, reunifying the country. Dulles assumed that these elections would secure a quick victory for the communists, and was pleased by the attitude of Ngo Dinh Diem, the President of the ‘Republic of Vietnam’, to cancel the elections in the south, which prompted attacks by communist guerrillas backed by Ho Chi Minh’s ‘Democratic Republic of Vietnam’. In response, American military advisers were dispatched to train the South Vietnamese military. Some two months earlier, in spring 1954, Dulles had aired the concept of creating ‘some lasting collective security system for Southeast Asia’ during a conversation with Eden. The latter readily offered to examine such an option, believing that he could promote the setting-up of a regional Locarno-type security arrangement in parallel with the search for a diplomatic solution (at that time the Geneva talks had not been concluded). In this scheme the membership of India, Indonesia and Ceylon (in siding with Britain, the Commonwealth and the USA) would add much to the credibility of a collective security arrangement; but Eden was too optimistic – the three countries were unwilling to compromise their neutrality in a scheme sponsored by non-Asian powers, as Ceylon’s prime minister pointed out. Britain had a colonial past, and the peoples of the region, including their elites, feared the advent of neocolonialism. In addition, American policy with respect to communist China left no room for manoeuvre by regional powers.9 Of course the Chinese premier and foreign affairs minister,

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Zhou Enlai, did not miss the opportunity to emphasise to Eden during the Geneva talks that a Southeast-Asia defence organisation would ‘split the area just as NATO had split Europe’.10 The absence of a serious and immediate threat in the Middle East and Asia (a threat in the form of enemy divisions rather than of communist subversion and propaganda, which could be countered by police action and counter-propaganda), and the presence of regional nationalisms led London and Washington to negotiate treaty provisions that lacked the commitment of the NATO treaty. Comparing key articles in the NATO treaty with the corresponding parts of the SEATO treaty and the Baghdad Pact [the legal foundation of CENTO] it is easy to see how robust the NATO alliance structure was meant to be. On 4 April 1949, the representatives of Britain, the USA, Denmark, France, Belgium, Canada, the Netherlands, Portugal, Iceland and Luxembourg (to be joined in 1952 by Greece and Turkey) signed the NATO treaty, agreeing on certain key articles: The Parties agree that an armed attack against one or more of them in Europe or North America shall be considered an attack against them all, and consequently they agree that, if such an armed attack occurs, each of them, in exercise of the right of individual or collective self-defence recognised by Article 51 of the Charter of the United Nations, will assist the Party or Parties so attacked by taking forthwith, individually, and in concert with the other Parties, such action as it deems necessary, including the use of armed force, to restore and maintain the security of the North Atlantic area. Any such armed attack and all measures taken as a result thereof shall immediately be reported to the Security Council. Such measures shall be terminated when the Security Council has taken the measures necessary to restore and maintain international peace and security. [article 5]. For the purpose of Article 5, an armed attack on one or more of the Parties is deemed to include an armed attack: – on the territory of any of the Parties in Europe or North America, on the Algerian Departments of France, on the territory of Turkey or on the islands under the jurisdiction of any of the Parties in the North Atlantic area north of the Tropic of Cancer;- on the forces, vessels, or aircraft of any of the Parties, when in or over these territories or any area in Europe in which occupation forces of any of the Parties were stationed on the date when the Treaty entered into force or the Mediterranean Sea or the North Atlantic area north of the Tropic of Cancer. [article 6]11

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Only after 20 years could a member state renounce the treaty (article 13). All these provisions established a benchmark for alliance standards (for the contemporary strategist as well as for the future scholar), and the level of automatic aid to the victim of communist aggression; but SEATO and CENTO, in their founding treaties (neither alliances ever had a charter), would never match NATO’s stringent requirements. The USA, Britain, France, the Philippines, Thailand, Australia, France, New Zealand and Pakistan signed the Southeast Asia Collective Defence Treaty (the Manila Pact) on 8 September 1954, agreeing in article 4 that: 1. Each Party recognizes that aggression by means of armed attack in the treaty area against any of the Parties or against any State or territory which the Parties by unanimous agreement may hereafter designate, would endanger its own peace and safety, and agrees that it will in that event act to meet the common danger in accordance with its constitutional processes. Measures taken under this paragraph shall be immediately reported to the Security Council of the United Nations. 2. If, in the opinion of any of the Parties, the inviolability or the integrity of the territory or the sovereignty or political independence of any Party in the treaty area or of any other State or territory to which the provisions of paragraph 1 of this Article from time to time apply is threatened in any way other than by armed attack or is affected or threatened by any fact or situation which might endanger the peace of the area, the Parties shall consult immediately in order to agree on the measures which should be taken for the common defense. 3. It is understood that no action on the territory of any State designated by unanimous agreement under paragraph 1 of this Article or on any territory so designated shall be taken except at the invitation or with the consent of the government concerned.12 The treaty was for an indefinite period of time. Cambodia, Laos and South Vietnam were not members but were included in the SEATO defence area under a separate protocol. However, Ngo Dinh Diem did not hesitate to question SEATO’s willingness to defend his South Vietnamese state. In a May 1957 conversation with Eisenhower, Diem asked for more military aid; Eisenhower, unwilling to comply with the request, reassured him of SEATO’s response in the event of aggression. Replying, Diem pointed out that only two neighbouring countries, Thailand and the Philippines, had joined; their forces in the event of war would be preoccupied with defending their own

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territories, and Pakistan was too far away to provide any meaningful help. Diem was perceptive also in referring to the low value of atomic weapons, and ‘questioned whether the SEATO plans which call for use of both tactical atomic weapons and air offensive would be effective in Vietnam, where visibility is poor because of the overcast conditions throughout most of the year and the lack of any real concentrated targets for nuclear weapons’.13 A few days later Diem’s ambassador in Washington, Tran Van Chuong, argued prophetically that the USA would not use any atomic weapon (tactical or strategic) in a war in Vietnam, recalling American reluctance to employ them during the Korean war, or to side militarily with the French before or after the battle of Dien Bien Phu. He argued that other Asian leaders had confided to him their assumption that the Americans and SEATO would not come to their aid in time of war with the communists – which was why they had opted for neutralism.14 Curiously, Hong Kong was not included in the SEATO defence area (Japan, South Korea and Taiwan were also excluded, but these countries were not members of SEATO as Britain was). Hong Kong, a British colony, would not be defended by the USA: President Truman had agreed only that US forces would help with the evacuation of the territory in the event of a Chinese assault. Eisenhower gave a less than explicit statement to Churchill in April 1954: ‘If, contrary to our belief, our efforts to save Indochina and British Commonwealth positions to the south should in any way increase the jeopardy to Hong Kong, we would expect to be with you there.’15 It was a friendly but misleading message. Dulles was clear, during negotiations over the Manila treaty, that Hong Kong would not be included in the defence area. The crisis between Chinese nationalists in Taiwan, under Chiang KaiShek, and mainland China, with the bombardment of coastal areas and islands, forced Eisenhower to consider the possibility of a Chinese invasion of Hong Kong. The President made another ‘informal’ commitment to defend the colony so as to get British support in his brinkmanship with China. American planning on Hong Kong entailed only the elaboration of evacuation plans; it was admitted that in case of a ‘quick Communist seizure’ US forces would not be capable of intervening. However, the colony had been included in the ‘free world areas’ proclaimed by Washington.16 In 1957 Eisenhower agreed that Hong Kong was a ‘joint [AngloAmerican] defence problem’, but this was pure rhetoric. The Americans became even more hesitant to come to the aid of the British once they had examined the hypothesis of ‘major civil disturbance’ in the colony, leading possibly to a pro-Chinese coup. In June 1960, Eisenhower, scaling down his previous rhetoric, admitted that: ‘If the British were about to lose

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Hong Kong as a result of civil disturbances, Hong Kong would be such a completely hostile place that there would be little use in attempting to retain it.’ The President sounded willing to send in US forces only if an official Chinese hand were discovered in the troubles; but he made no promise.17 Writing during the Cultural Revolution in China, the assistant legal adviser for East Asian and Pacific Affairs at the State Department argued that: ‘USG (US Government) has no firm commitments to act in defence of Hong Kong, so far as we can determine … the SEATO treaty area appears to have been specifically delineated to exclude Hong Kong.’ Seven years earlier Assistant Secretary Livingston Merchant had reassured British Ambassador Sir Harold Caccia: ‘It went without saying that were the British to be threatened or attacked there [in Hong Kong] we would give them such support as seemed appropriate at the time.’ It was a vague assurance; nor was the issue of Hong Kong’s defence examined thoroughly by Lord Mountbatten (then Chief of Defence Staff) and Admiral Felt in their discussions. In March 1961, in a ploy aimed at deterrence, the British tried to persuade China that if Hong Kong were invaded, Washington ‘would respond with nuclear weapons’; Admiral Felt and his staff simply ‘listened’ to the British narrative of their discussions with the Chinese. Later, a working group examined plans for American involvement in an evacuation of Hong Kong, though American military assistance ‘would be judged in the light of the condition at the time’.18 In 1967, American policy towards Britain was crystal clear: ‘The United States would not expect to defend Hong Kong for the British, nor do we expect British to ask for this support,’ the State Department emphasised.19 In negotiating the Manila treaty, Washington made it explicit that the provisions ‘with reference thereto in article 4 paragraph 1 apply only to communist aggression but affirms that in the event of other aggression or armed attack it will consult under the provisions of article 4 paragraph 2’.20 The threat had to be from the communists, but since it was not deemed an immediate or short-term possibility, Dulles insisted that no further American commitment (e.g. military or economic aid) would be made – contrary to the view of most countries, which he did not attempt to deny, that the alliance should have a permanent organisation. This meant that for the time being there would not be a solid alliance prepared for war, but only a consultative panel. There was no agreement yet on the site of consultations. Dulles briefed Eisenhower that ‘as to indirect aggression’ (i.e. communist subversion) the signed treaty provided only for consultation, without any commitment. The Secretary of State made it clear to his new allies that ‘the United States could not say that any aggression in the area endangered US security’. As he disclosed in a conference with the President, he had been

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considering the implications for SEATO of Indo-Pakistani rivalry.21 Pakistan, a member of both SEATO and CENTO, would always seek to expand the threat assessment of these alliances so as to include India. The United States promoted them without committing conventional forces, relying heavily on nuclear retaliation in the event of a major war. Britain, meanwhile, was unwilling to accept references to a communist threat in the SEATO treaty. Besides, during the same period (summer 1954) Eden, together with Soviet Foreign Minister Vyacheslav Molotov, skilfully chaired the Geneva talks, seeking to avoid a new conflict with communist North Vietnam after the ending of French rule in Indochina.22 By subscribing to SEATO Washington had made an explicit strategic commitment to Asian security, and Britain returned to regional defence co-operation following her exclusion from the ANZUS treaty.23 It is also claimed that Britain, and Eden personally, accepted the SEATO concept in order to tie US hands, and to avert any American adventurism in Indochina which would be contrary to the Geneva Declaration. The British policy in alliance-setting focused on checking the future policy of their mighty ally. Robert Scott, minister in Britain’s Washington embassy, was honest in remarking that SEATO was ‘part of the price of getting the Americans … to Geneva for that conference’.24 ANZUS was a parallel alliance in the Pacific area. In 1951, Dean Acheson, the US Secretary of State in the Truman administration negotiated security pacts with Japan and the Philippines since the Korean war heightened fear of showdown with Russia and China. He discussed also with Australia and New Zealand in a bid to create ‘centers of strength and security in the Pacific.’ The Australians sought close security cooperation with Washington, fearing not only the advance of communism in Southeast Asia but the revival of Japan and the regional consequences of the war in Korea. They noted that their country was excluded from the 12 January1950 speech of Acheson on the defence perimeter (he also excluded Korea; to be criticised that this led the North Koreans to adopt an aggressive strategy).25 The Secretary of State did not favour the setting-up of ‘a white man’s club’ with Australia and New Zealand but in February 1951 Spender, the Australian Foreign Secretary made it plain that unless Washington did not sign a defence agreement with his country, Australia would not concur to the US-Japanese defence treaty under negotiation. By April, Acheson admitted to George Marshall, the Secretary of Defense that a treaty with the Australians and New Zealanders was simply ‘unavoidable.’ The ANZUS pact was signed on 1 September 1951 with the British not hiding their discontent of not being consulted nor asked to join. The signatories agreed that:

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In order more effectively to achieve the objective of this Treaty the Parties separately and jointly by means of continuous and effective self-help and mutual aid will maintain and develop their individual and collective capacity to resist armed attack. [article 2] The Parties will consult together whenever in the opinion of any of them the territorial integrity, political independence or security of any of the Parties is threatened in the Pacific [article 3]. Each Party recognizes that an armed attack in the Pacific Area on any of the Parties would be dangerous to its own peace and safety and declares that it would act to meet the common danger in accordance with its constitutional processes. Any such armed attack and all measures taken as a result thereof shall be immediately reported to the Security Council of the United Nations. Such measures shall be terminated when the Security Council has taken the measures necessary to restore and maintain international peace and security. [article 4]26 Already, by the end of August 1951, the US-Philippine Mutual Defense Treaty was signed. The signatories agreed that: The Parties, through their Foreign Ministers or their deputies, will consult together from time to time regarding the implementation of this Treaty and whenever in the opinion of either of them the territorial integrity, political independence or security of either of the Parties is threatened by external armed attack in the Pacific. [article 3] Each Party recognizes that an armed attack in the Pacific Area on either of the Parties would be dangerous to its own peace and safety and declares that it would act to meet the common dangers in accordance with its constitutional processes. Any such armed attack and all measures taken as a result thereof shall be immediately reported to the Security Council of the United Nations. Such measures shall be terminated when the Security Council has taken the measures necessary to restore and maintain international peace and security. [article 4]27 On 8 September 1951, the United States and Japan concluded the Mutual Security Treaty. The treaty stipulated: Japan grants, and the United States of America accepts, the right, upon the coming into force of the Treaty of Peace and of this Treaty,

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to dispose United States land, air and sea forces in and about Japan. Such forces may be utilized to contribute to the maintenance of international peace and security in the Far East and to the security of Japan against armed attack from without, including assistance given at the express request of the Japanese Government to put down large scale internal riots and disturbances in Japan, caused through instigation or intervention by an outside power or powers. [article 1] During the exercise of the right referred to in Article I, Japan will not grant, without the prior consent of the United States of America, any bases or any rights, powers or authority whatsoever, in or relating to bases or the right of garrison or of manoeuvre, or transit of ground, air or naval forces to any third power. [article 2]28 The JCS did not wish for a close military cooperation amongst the ANZUS members and the establishment of a military committee. The first ANZUS council of ministers was held in August 1952 and Eden applied for a British delegate to attend as an observer, claiming Britain being ‘a Pacific power.’ Acheson did not agree, and he might have laughed on hearing Churchill remarking that Australia, by joining ANZUS was ‘an apostate to the Empire.’ Acheson worked for ANZUS not to be promoted as the NATO of Southeast Asia, increasing US commitments and Asian expectations. He wrote to President Truman that ‘despite the tendency of Australia, to link ANZUS to NATO and European affairs [he worked for the Asians not to see it as] a future NATO for the Pacific.’29 Thus ANZUS was a looselystructured alliance, at American insistence. The first meeting of allied staff planners was held in November 1952, and the second not until October 1955.30 It was similar to the Five-Power Staff Agency established by the United States, Britain, France, Australia and New Zealand in December 1952, essentially a military forum.31 The American diplomatic effort towards ANZUS aimed to persuade Australia and New Zealand to share the burden of any future conflict in the Middle East. The position paper of the State Department delivered to President Harry Truman on the eve of Churchill’s visit to Washington was explicit: ‘The United States does not plan to commit its forces to the defense of the Middle East’; thus valuable and reliable allies had to be found to fill the gap. In the event that Churchill raised the issue of ANZUS, the State Department suggested that Truman reply to the effect that his administration encouraged the build-up of Australian and New Zealand forces to counter any future communist aggression in the Pacific area. In addition:

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We have given concrete form to this belief by committing our armed forces to the defence of Australia and New Zealand [sic]. The tripartite security pact [ANZUS] spells out this commitment. On the other hand that pact recognized the fact that Australia and New Zealand, as members of the British Commonwealth of Nations, have military obligations outside as well as within the Pacific area. As a result I think that this security arrangement should free substantial Australian and New Zealand forces for the defense of the Middle East. Prime Minister Holland in Washington last February specifically asked whether New Zealand’s commitment to the Middle East would be considered as a contribution to the then contemplated Pacific security arrangement. He was told then that the US would certainly look at such a contribution as a benefit to overall ‘allied’ strategy. On the other hand, while we recognize the importance of Southeast Asia and are concerned that the countries in the area do not fall into the communist camp, we cannot at this time accept the commitment of US ground forces to the defense of the area … I think it is too soon to attempt to establish a regional security system in the Pacific similar to NATO.32 Truman was warned not to mention, in his discussions with Churchill, the basic American policy of inducing Australia and New Zealand to make a commitment of forces for the Middle East, which ANZUS would facilitate; and most important, ‘the US is not willing at this time to enter any regional pact with regard to Southeast Asia that would commit US forces to the defense of the area.’33 Diplomats did not appear anxious to confront communist aggression in Asia – there was no such threat, and they knew it. The US Joint Chiefs of Staff followed a similar line. In the hypothetical case of Chinese intervention in Indochina with ‘volunteers’, or overtly with conventional forces, the United States ‘might consider taking action, short of the actual employment of ground forces, in Indochina, if it became apparent that such action was necessary to prevent the fall of that country to communism’. A much-favoured option would be a United Nations force to confront China, but ‘without commitment of United States ground forces in China or Indochina.’ The JCS did not urge the settingup of an allied command structure for Southeast Asia, since an American contribution should not be taken for granted by the regional allies; they had been honest enough to confess that: In the event that the Chinese communists do attack the area, despite our every effort to prevent it, the US will make such contribution as

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is possible, in the light of its world commitments, to the defense of Southeast Asia except for the deployment to the area of American ground forces. It may, however, become necessary to take air and naval action directly against Communist China itself, such as blockade and attack against selected targets.34 ANZUS lacked both a command structure and the commitment of its principal member, the United States. Britain’s stance towards the utility of SEATO was ambivalent – in the light also of strong pressure from the Treasury not to expand overseas commitments. Already, the ‘Colombo Plan’ had shown that a non-military pact of mutual economic and technical aid could be successful with nonaligned nations. It was signed in January 1950 by Britain, Australia, New Zealand, Ceylon, Pakistan and India, with Laos acceding in 1951. A year later Burma, Thailand, Nepal and the Philippines joined, followed by Indonesia in 1953. Other states acceding were Japan (1954), Malaysia (1957), Bhutan and South Korea (1962), Maldives and Afghanistan (1963), Iran and Singapore (1966), Bangladesh and Fiji (1972), New Guinea (1973) and Vietnam and Mongolia (2004). The United States had signed in February 1951, on the understanding that the Colombo Plan was no more than ‘informal and advisory.’35 The Plan drew upon British resources and increased spending on aid packages; but most significantly the pact demonstrated that it could survive Cold War antagonisms as well as regional members’ suspicions of each other. By August 1954 the Foreign Office had taken the view that an Asian alliance would ‘publicly define a limit’ to communist influence, aiming in parallel to ‘reduce the risk of blundering into World War III’.36 The British Chiefs of Staff were against a full SEATO structure; a small permanent secretariat would suffice. The Americans pressed for the headquarters to be in Bangkok, and the inaugural council was held there in February 1955. The JCS, under Eisenhower’s ‘New Look’ policy, had drafted plans for nuclear retaliation against China, while Dulles hinted vaguely at a need to plan for some deployment of conventional forces, so that Thailand, Burma and Malaya would not feel foredoomed, either by Chinese aggression or an allied nuclear response. At that time and until the end of the 1950s, the Pentagon would inhibit any deployment of conventional forces to defend allies; a ‘NATO-style’ defence concept would not apply in Southeast Asia. By the end of July 1954 Admiral Arthur Radford, chairman of the JCS, argued that except for Japan, South Korea and Taiwan – which could defend themselves – the other Southeast Asian states did not stand a chance in confronting

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Chinese aggression, and thus Washington should avoid a defence pact that would be ‘undesirable and unwise’.37 But Dulles did not wish to give the impression that the United States lacked commitment in defending its allies. Nonetheless, after the conclusion of the Manila treaty Dulles admitted to an ANZUS meeting that Washington would not allocate forces to the area, and that its strategy diverged from the European powers’ understanding of SEATO.38 Indeed the Americans did not promote consultation; SEATO’s early years were marked by the absence of close staff liaison and planning, while Britain, Australia and New Zealand were not fully informed of US planning for nuclear war.39 Most significantly, communist subversion was at that time the main threat to be countered, rather than aggression with conventional forces. Eden, who attended the first SEATO conference, made it clear that ‘gradual infiltration from within was a more immediate danger than direct aggression’.40 At the SEATO military advisers’ meetings on 24–5 February 1955 anti-subversion operations were deemed of top priority for alliance plans. There was also a ‘very private’ remark by the American Admiral Felix Stump, who confided to General Sir Charles Loewen (commander-in-chief of Britain’s Far Eastern Land Forces) the need to deploy troops on ‘a line firmly held’ before employing nuclear weapons against China in the event of war. The British officer offered help in examining the defences of the Kra isthmus (the narrow land bridge that connects the Malay Peninsula with mainland Asia), a scheme in which Australia and New Zealand would also be consulted.41 Nonetheless, the contribution of Britain to SEATO had to be kept to a minimum, given the strong Treasury pressure to cut overseas spending. In addition, London avoided calling SEATO anti-communist so as to avoid regional communists taking advantage of such a declaration, playing up their charges of imperialism against the West, and as a result getting backing from India, Burma and Indonesia. Indeed it was a wise option not to play into the hands of communist propaganda, only a year after the Geneva Declaration. Sir Robert Scott, the British Commissioner-General in Southeast Asia, warned that the Americans were proposing ‘unsound or even dangerous’ policies. Britain should not always acquiesce in American policy initiatives in Indochina (including secret-service operations) that were aggressive and could cause a spiral of reactions in the region should China respond. Other SEATO members, such as Australia, the Philippines and Thailand, seemed to agree with whatever the Americans proposed; but this should not apply to Britain, commented Scott.42 He discounted any possibility of Chinese overt aggression, since the Chinese ‘are no fools and knew what it would mean’ – a US nuclear strike.43

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For some time Canberra had been suspecting a possible British withdrawal from Southeast Asia. Major-General L.H. Pugh confirmed that the Australians feared that they would be left ‘carrying the can’ after the British had left, Meanwhile, London had evaded the issue of establishing a permanent planning staff for SEATO. Besides, the Suez crisis as well as the uprising in Hungary were putting strains on British diplomatic resources, intelligence effort and contingency planning. For the moment, therefore, no declaration about the level of UK forces would be made. In addition, the issue of intelligence estimating for SEATO came to the forefront: intelligence would reveal if the alliance was about to face aggression from China or communist North Vietnam. British policy maintained that SEATO’s threat estimate should be reviewed annually by an intelligence committee.44 The Australians wanted Washington to do more on planning for conventional war, while the Americans considered that such fears of Chinese aggression were ill-founded. Since summer 1954 Washington had insisted on the threat of communist subversion, while Australian planners could not forget the lessons of the 1941–42 Japanese offensive coming down through Malaya.45 Admiral Radford, chairman of the JCS, insisted on the subversion threat, and called for the only American deterrent, ‘the mobile striking [nuclear] power’, surprising the Australians by setting out the defence of Indochina rather than Malaya as a top priority.46 By November 1955 it had been agreed by SEATO that its war planning should incorporate nuclear retaliation. The British Chiefs of Staff, content at this, remarked that: In case of a Chinese communist advance starting from South China, the early delivery of nuclear weapons on to, at most, fifty selected targets in Southern China and North Vietnam would so delay the advance that the overt threat to Malaya would be very small.47 SEATO ministers, conferring in Karachi in March 1956, accepted the nuclear strike concept.48 The formal introduction of this notion suited Britain (London aimed under the 1957 Sandys White Paper to downscale its conventional deployments in Malaya, but also wanted to contribute nuclear bombers to retain some influence over American strategy), but this did not ease Australian fears. The fall of Malaya and Singapore, as a lesson learned, was hard to change in the Australian mindset. The British High Commissioner in Canberra wrote in July 1956 that:

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Failed Alliances of the Cold War

It has always to be remembered that the Australians have a deepseated awareness of the threat represented by the sheer numbers of the Chinese communists. The idea of millions of Chinese creeping down through the [Malayan] peninsula like human ants is a permanent nightmare to them, whether soldiers or politicians, and they are afraid lest, because the nuclear weapon is available, insufficient conventional forces will be commissioned in Southeast Asia.49 The Australian feared that tactical nuclear weapons could not stop Chinese infantry in the jungle.50 The notion of employing nuclear weapons against China in the event of a new offensive in Korea derived from post-war American military planning and the unwillingness of Eisenhower to dispatch troops again to Southeast Asia. By 1954 (despite the plans for nuclear bombing drafted by the notorious General Curtis Le May, which amounted to all-out war with China, and on which the State Department had always found it difficult to put a limit) there was no fear whatever that the SEATO area was in the kind of lethal danger from either China or North Vietnam which would have justified the use of nuclear weapons.51 In early 1954 (months before the signing of the Manila treaty) Dulles publicly pledged that nuclear weapons consisted the retaliation option, and that Washington would not deploy troops in Asia in the event of war: [It was not] sound military strategy permanently to commit United States land forces to Asia to a degree that gives us no strategic reserve … there is no local defence which alone will contain the mighty land power of the communist world … [the defence] must be reinforced by the further deterrent of massive retaliatory power.52 Military intelligence had not upgraded the communist threat in Asia or the Middle East after the Korean War. In a 1959 assessment, British intelligence maintained that the threat could come in the form of communist subversion based on socio-economic inequalities (with the local Chinese minorities possibly acting as a fifth column), rather than in aggression or invasion; the enemy would have a paramilitary posture, not a conventional one. While Soviet policy used aid packages in the attempt to persuade India, Indonesia, Burma, Cambodia, Nepal and Ceylon to remain neutral, it was remarked in London that: ‘Asian neutralism and determination to avoid both entangling alliances and outside interference are symbols of this passionate insistence on national independence, which is at present perhaps the main political

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driving force in the area.’ In the same estimate it was stated (somewhat contradictorily) that some countries appreciated the anti-communist potential of SEATO, and that ‘neutralism would not necessary need to be against our own [Britain’s] interests’.53 Clearly, regional nationalism and alliance-making were at odds. As early as 1956 some Foreign Office diplomats, like James Cable (to become in 1963–66 head of the Southeast Asia department), confided their overall negative assessment of what SEATO was all about: I would say that the fundamental weakness of SEATO lay in the conflicting, not to say incompatible, motives from which the member Governments originally joined the Organisation. We for instance, joined to avoid split with the Americans; the French to preserve the présence française in the Far East; the Pakistanis to annoy and secure protection against the Indians; the Thais in the hope that their allies would be ready to fight on the eastern frontiers of Thailand; and the remainder from strong but confused feelings that something had to be done about South-Asia somehow and at once. The result has been an embarrassing, ineffective and expensive organisation which in my view at least, is no more of a deterrent to our foes or a reassurance to our friends that would have been provided by a much simpler and cheaper unilateral declaration on the part of the Western powers.54 Cable assumed that Cambodia and Laos would be safer by becoming buffer zones than by belonging to ‘defenceless alliances’ (in which he included SEATO), in case both decided to join, contrary to the Geneva Declaration.55 Other planners in the Foreign Office’s Southeast Asia department disagreed with Cable, commending SEATO’s value in keeping communism at arm’s length, arguing that the Americans had committed themselves to Asian security, and that Japan (pending a positive SEATO performance in the near future) would not try to cut any deal with China. Some diplomats also put emphasis on the value of educational programmes, scholarships and cultural activities under the auspices of SEATO.56 However, a real alliance that confronts a real conventional military threat is expected to organise quickly; alliances mean allied forces with some value in war, a joint plan for conventional warfare (and not only for a hypothetical nuclear war – regarded as a highly undesirable option by all concerned, friend and foe alike), regular combined exercises (presumably large-scale) and joint commands – not simply scholarships and cultural seminars. In 1957, Admiral Radford mentioned the low value of the regional armed forces that

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could be called up to defend South Vietnam against Chinese aggression. It was not expected that their contribution would ‘significantly’ affect the military situation; their participation would be token and psychological.57 SEATO military exercises were held for the first time in 1956. Communist subversion and infiltration were assessed as the threats the alliance faced, while Pakistan raised the issue of aggression: aggression other than communist should be recognised by the rest of the allies. Karachi had in mind India, attempting to divert the alliance’s focus away from a non-existent conventional military threat deriving from communist countries and into taking sides in the Indo-Pakistani dispute. Meanwhile, counter-insurgency cooperation in Laos and Vietnam became a field of strong American interest. Lord Lansdowne emphasised the need for Britain to concentrate on non-military aspects, warning that counter-insurgency would cause ‘political implications … so grave that we might have to regret any initiative we took on the subject [of counterinsurgency in Laos] at a SEATO meeting’. Prime Minister Harold Macmillan concurred. His message to Duncan Sandys, the Secretary of Defence, who was attending the alliance conference, revealed that SEATO did not confront a threat, thus should not act as a Cold War military alliance: ‘We should aim to make the SEATO organisation as businesslike as possible without making its military or counter-subversion aspects too obtrusive.’58 Selwyn Lloyd, the Foreign Secretary, elaborated further: ‘It has never been British policy to try unduly to boost the military side of SEATO … we wish SEATO to be a means of promoting stability … the more the military side of SEATO is emphasised, the less attractive it will be to the non-member states in the area.’ In addition, with reference to the counter-subversion consultations, the British had ‘to be careful … not to overplay our hand by pressing our advice too far, or by seeming to overstress our anxieties’.59 Sandys, in a speech on 9 April 1959, argued that SEATO deterred overt aggression. This was a necessary exaggeration to convince the only three regional members that the alliance was valuable. Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam were deemed targets of Chinese infiltration, and it was necessary to continue with the counter-subversion aid/training programme amongst SEATO members and the protocol states. In addition, the alliance should try to persuade Cambodia that communist infiltration threatened its independence. Contingency planning would entail Britain urging Thailand to intervene with a small force in Laos, and the other SEATO members to defend Thailand and South Vietnam.60 The need to clarify the definition

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of communist insurgency was raised by London, in an effort to define the actual commitment of SEATO and its contingency planning, but without violating the Geneva Declaration. Thus it was agreed that: For the purposes of this plan [MPO Plan 5c] communist insurgency is defined as armed action against the established Government of a country by organized bands or groups under conditions which do not permit such action to be identified as overt and direct external aggression, but subject to such a degree of foreign control, direction of support, as to amount to indirect external aggression.61 London argued that an intervention in Laos would come only if a communist coup brought down the government. In the event of such intervention, SEATO members would act as an alliance or unilaterally. Key cities for troop deployments within Laos would be Vientiane, Luang Prabang and the communications centres close to the Mekong river, in the south-west of the country. The land forces for such a task would be one American and one Commonwealth brigade, stationed for the time being in Malaya.62 By 1959, Britain, the United States and the other allies had declared the allocation of conventional forces to SEATO and agreed on specific war plans (discussed in detail in Chapter 4 below.) The declarations enabled detailed war planning; but the commitment of Britain and the United States to implement these plans should not be taken for granted: declaration of forces for war plans in no sense amounted to a clear political commitment to defend their allies. But Washington could no longer argue only on the utility ‘New Look’ policy, since conflicts below the conventional war threshold erupted in Indochina. In the period 1954–59, the key aspects of the SEATO story were the unhurried nature of the move towards organising the alliance structure and drafting war plans; the absence of more regional countries as full members; Britain’s focus on the Geneva Declaration; America’s hesitancy in committing conventional resources, and its over-reliance on nuclear weapons; and finally (and most significantly) the realisation that no Chinese aggression was to be expected. The Middle East was definitely not fertile ground for anti-communist alliances. For London the oil-rich region was ‘the focal point of Commonwealth land, sea and air communications between Europe, Asia, Africa and the Near East.’ The Americans believed strongly that ‘the security interests of the United States would be critically endangered if the Near East should fall under Soviet influence or control’.63

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Failed Alliances of the Cold War

Nationalism and anti-colonialism prevailed amongst both ruling elites and the rest of the populations. Egypt retained a leading role amongst the Arabs, and on 22 March 1945 signed – together with Syria, the Emir of Transjordan, Iraq, Saudi Arabia and Lebanon – the ‘Pact of the League of Arab States’. The Arab League would promote regional cooperation, and in five years (on 17 June 1950) its members would sign the ‘Treaty of Joint Defense and Economic Cooperation between the States of the Arab League’. They made a clear commitment: The Contracting States consider any [act of ] armed aggression made against any one or more of them or their armed forces, to be directed against them all. Therefore, in accordance with the right of self-defence, individually and collectively, they undertake to go without delay to the aid of the State or States against which such an act of aggression is made, and immediately to take, individually and collectively, all steps available, including the use of armed force, to repel the aggression and restore security and peace. [article 2] In the event of the threat of war or the existence of an international emergency, the Contracting States shall immediately proceed to unify their plans and defensive measures, as the situation may demand. [article 3]64 Article 10 stipulated: ‘The Contracting States undertake to conclude no international agreements which may be contradictory to the provisions of this Treaty, nor to act, in their international relations, in a way which may be contrary to the aims of this Treaty.’65 American diplomats assumed that this article raised obstacles for Arab League members to join MEDO (Middle East Defence Organisation), a scheme – which never materialised – sponsored by Washington and London. MEDO as a defence concept followed the Middle East Command (MEC) structure aired in 1951, sponsored by Britain, France, the United States and Turkey. South Africa, Australia and New Zealand accepted the invitation to join, but Egypt (deemed a key country for MEC, but with strained relations with Britain since the abrogation of the 1936 AngloEgyptian treaty) rejected this arrangement, essentially killing the scheme. Freeman Matthews, a deputy Under-Secretary at the State Department, admitted that ‘MEC becomes something of an anomaly’ if no other Middle East state would join.66 Anglo-American diplomacy would press ahead, however, with the Middle East Defence Organisation, essentially an evolved form of the MEC scheme. MEDO was also supposed to defend Israel (a task to which

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no Arab state would ever subscribe, considering also that they confronted no Russian threat to make them change their minds). Beyond Arab nationalism, the Arab-Israeli clash and the Anglo-Egyptian dispute over Suez, the Americans feared that their genuine worry about Soviet plans over the Middle East would be taken advantage of by their would-be regional allies. Special National Intelligence Estimate 23 gave clear warning that: ‘In general, most states [of the Middle East] would remain motivated primarily by a desire to exploit Western fear of Soviet aggression in order to improve their military strength vis-à-vis their neighbors.’67 For the time being, it was understood that: There is, however, little danger that the Soviet Union will take aggressive military action against the Middle East as a whole unless it has decided to initiate general war … the major threats to Western interests in the Middle East lie in the growing instability within the Middle Eastern states … and hostile attitudes between them.68 The United States, ‘retaining flexibility’, would not commit ‘boots on the ground’ to any alliance in the area. The decision to dispatch troops would come ‘only in the light of particular circumstances as they may exist’.69 Nonetheless, the key obstacles to the promotion of MEDO were not matters of treaty provisions. The regional members, notably Egypt and Iraq, had been too suspicious of Britain and the United States because they had been backing Israel. Cairo had to deal with the Suez dispute and with the Anglo-French pressure to retain some short of control in the area. Georges Bidault, the French Foreign Minister, even suggested involving Italy and Greece in the MEDO scheme so as to safeguard the freedom of the seas, but Dulles disagreed – there was no reason for MEDO to have more nonMiddle East members. This alliance should have as its sole purpose regional defence against communist aggression.70 General Muhammad Naguib, the new Egyptian president, confided to the Turkish Ambassador his fear that in the event MEDO proved unsatisfactory for Egypt, and his country withdrew, it would remain isolated, since Syria and Iraq did not have ‘great differences with Britain’ and would eventually have joined the alliance. The Suez Canal dispute dominated Anglo-Egyptian relations, and the General insisted that until a settlement was agreed, Egypt would not join MEDO. The Turkish Ambassador, attempting to scare Naguib, mentioned the (improbable) ‘danger that the Russian paratroopers could seize the Canal’.71 In their turn the Israelis assumed that the Arab League sought to destroy their

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newly-founded state.72 Washington assigned primary importance to the membership of Egypt – rather than of Iraq – in MEDO, and was willing to wait until London and Cairo had reached an agreement. In the State Department’s view, Egypt, as the leader of the Arab world (and presumably a future member of MEDO), would attract more regional partners to the alliance. According to the ‘Egypt first’ argument, American military-assistance programmes would be initiated to persuade Naguib to join MEDO.73 London also approached Pakistan on possible MEDO membership, but early on it was discovered that Karachi saw the alliance as a politicomilitary asset in its confrontation with India. Besides, India would view the inclusion of Pakistan in MEDO as a proof of Anglo-American backing for Pakistan; thus the effect ‘on US-Indian relations will certainly include extreme coolness and increasing tendency to reject sincerity of our views on such broader issues as Korea, NATO and disarmament’.74 Washington and London found it very hard to lead regional members into a solely anti-communist alliance – they did not themselves wish to commit large forces, but rather sought to induce their regional partners, through military-aid programmes, to unite against the hypothetical threat of communist aggression. The Arabs, however, were simply not frightened by the Russians. US National Intelligence Estimate 76 (January 1953) argued: ‘Soviet rulers may estimate that the area can be effectively denied to the West without being brought under direct communist control and without forcing the USSR prematurely to accept full responsibility for supporting communist regimes.’ It was also clear to the State Department, the Pentagon and the intelligence community that: ‘Except for Iran, Middle Eastern states do not feel immediately threatened by the USSR, and they fear that acceptance of Western support [i.e. the MEDO scheme] would lead to Western domination.’ The anti-West hostility amongst the peoples and the ruling elites could be exploited by Soviet policy. However, the local communist parties could not threaten the Arab regimes for the next few years, either by peaceful means or by force.75 Besides, the Arabs blamed the United States as chief supporter of Israel, and Britain and France for their colonial past and their present aspirations over Suez. The Arab desire to eliminate Western influence, and the rising nationalism that flirted with neutralism over East-West relations, could not be fuelled to back an anti-communist alliance, a NATO of the Middle East.76 Anglo-American diplomacy simply could not square the circle, especially after the rise to power of Nasser and the coming of the Suez crisis.

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Besides, British and American strategists had been well aware that the Arab armed forces are incapable, individually or collectively, of effectively resisting attack by a major power. The defence of the Middle East against Soviet bloc aggression will depend on employment of Western armed forces. At present local forces are not even capable of manning and maintaining adequate bases for quick and effective use by Western forces in the event of war.77 Even if MEDO was finally established, it would take years to grow into a credible alliance to deter Russia.78 General Omar Bradley, now chairman of the JCS, claimed that: ‘The Soviets have had the same total number of divisions [near the Middle East] for the last years. Although they are constantly improving the quality of existing forces there has been no increase in quantity.’79 The JCS estimate agreed that if Russia and its satellites went for an all-out war in Europe, the Middle East and Asia, they would assign 23 to 24 divisions to the Middle East out of a total of 175.80 Assuming that the Russians were interested more in Middle East oilfields, they would not attack Turkey at all. In addition, Bradley’s view was that Iran, Afghanistan and Pakistan could be invaded simultaneously by Russian forces, since in those countries airbases operated close to the borders. The chairman of the JCS argued that MEDO’s aims would be largely political, since in the event of war, from the military point of view, it would be ‘enormously easier to hold the inner ring which would involve pulling back to the Malatya Pass and maintain a line southward parallel to the Mediterranean coast’.81 In brief, the defence plan envisioned for MEDO (covering approximately a front line 1,780 miles long, while in comparison the UN forces in Korea covered only a 150-mile line) would be an outer ring, a British responsibility, running from the Taurus mountains in southern Turkey to the Zagros mountains in western Iran. A Russian land offensive would have to pass though mountain defiles; the JCS study indentified the Cilician Gates, the Malatya Pass, the Ruwandiz Pass, the Senna Pass, the Partak Pass, the Khurammabad Pass and the port of Bandar Abbas as potential invasion targets. The invading forces would reach a total of 20 divisions, to be confronted by 17 regional divisions (up to American standard), excluding the Egyptians and Syrians, supported by 1,200 aircraft and two armoured divisions in reserve. US airpower support would be based on carriers in the Mediterranean, not in bases near the front.82

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Arab-Israeli antagonism, as well as the Anglo-Egyptian dispute, made Dulles abandon the MEDO scheme, despite the Turks urging the settingup of the organisation, with the Arabs invited to join later. MEDO was put on the shelf, and a new diplomatic campaign to create a regional alliance commenced. This did not of course mean that the JCS and London would not continue consulting in secret, together with Turkey, on defence planning. Meanwhile moderate programmes of military assistance would be offered to selected countries, ‘choosing those who are most keenly aware of the threat of Soviet Russia and who are geographically located to stand in the way of possible Soviet aggression’ (i.e. Turkey, Pakistan, Iraq, Iran and Syria).83 In spring 1953 Dulles inaugurated his concept of the ‘Northern Tier of Nations’, including Turkey, Iraq and Pakistan – and later Iran, a country seemingly vulnerable to Russian aggression – as the answer to the riddle of a modern, regional collective-security pact. For the time being bilateral aid programmes, instead of an all-out multinational pact ‘modelled on NATO’, would be the chosen option. This showed that there was no immediate threat to be countered, Dulles suggesting to Eisenhower that ‘the present policy was more modest, more realistic, and more apt to produce results’.84 Ankara worked with Washington to offer Pakistan a pact that would enable Washington to provide military aid if Karachi asked for it. This could be made to look like an initial bilateral Turco-Pakistani collaboration rather than a Western-sponsored alliance. The Turkish initiative (closely coordinated with the State Department) to inveigle Pakistan into ‘collaboration’ on security matters was a more subtle approach to alliance-making, and prepared the ground for the creation of a Northern Tier alliance. Eventually, Eisenhower sent a letter to Jawaharlal Nehru, the Prime Minister of India, on 24 February 1954 reassuring him of American policy towards India. The Turco-Pakistani ‘Agreement on Friendly Relations’ was signed on 2 April 1954, promoting inter alia ‘consultation and cooperation on certain defence matters’.85 In parallel, the Iraqis – who viewed this agreement positively – expressed a fear of Russian intentions; Foreign Minister Secretary Tawfiq Al-Suwaidi confided to the Turkish Chargé d’Affaires in Baghdad that his government had realised ‘how very vulnerable their country was to Soviet attack coming through Persia’.86 However, the US intelligence community remained cautious in their assessment of the new agreement’s deterrence value; analysts estimated that: The immediate effects of [even] a loose regional defence grouping based on the Turk-Pakistani agreement and backed by US military aid programmes would be primarily political and psychological rather

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military … such a loose grouping would not per se result in any significant reduction of the area’s military vulnerability … [Russia] would not feel itself sufficiently threatened to undertake major retaliatory actions such as invasion of either of these states [i.e. Iran and Afghanistan].’87 Eventually, the Baghdad Pact, the forerunner and founding agreement of CENTO, commenced as a bilateral security agreement between Turkey and Iraq, signed on 24 February 1955. Britain acceded on 25 March 1955, and Pakistan and Iraq on 17 September and 23 October 1955 respectively. Surprisingly, the United States did not join. Key reasons were to avoid alienating the rest of the Arab states (especially Egypt), India (since Pakistan was a member of the Pact) and Afghanistan.88 Dulles should have been happy with the creation of another anti-communist alliance, but sounded apprehensive with regard to the British: a week prior to Britain’s accession, he sent a message to London protesting that the Pact made no reference to ‘general peaceful intentions’. There was a fear in Israel that the alliance would lead to the arming of the Arabs, Iraq being hostile to Israel – indeed, it did not recognise its right to exist. Sir Evelyn Shuckburgh, Eden’s private secretary during the latter’s tenure at the Foreign Office, and an experienced hand in Middle East affairs, assumed that Dulles’s protest was ‘an almost blatant piece of Israeli pressure, exercised through the State Department’s lawyers’.89 The signatories to the Baghdad Pact agreed only that: Consistent with article 51 of the United Nations Charter the High Contracting Parties will co-operate for their security and defence. Such measures as they agree to take to give effect to this co-operation may form the subject of special agreements with each other. [article 1] The suspicions of the Pact amongst the regional allies could not be hidden, and an acknowledgment was made in article 3 that: ‘The High Contracting Parties undertake to refrain from any interference whatsoever in each other’s internal affairs. They will settle any dispute between themselves in a peaceful way in accordance with the United Nations Charter.’ The Pact would remain in force for five years, with an option of renewing it for a further five (article 7).90 The wording of the Baghdad Pact and the SEATO treaty shows the lack of an immediate threat to be countered – this in contrast to the NATO treaty and its automatic contingency in the event of aggression against a

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member state. Copious negotiations among the uncommitted and hesitant Pact members, as well as strategic intelligence assessments, cleared the way for the establishment of alliance structures not meant to be up to NATO standards. This sounds a natural reaction: there was no fear of aggression, so these alliances retained only the qualified commitment of their members. By October 1957 Eisenhower and Macmillan had agreed to link all three organisations – NATO, SEATO and the Baghdad Pact – making actual a ‘cordon sanitaire’ around Russia and her satellites. But nothing materialised as initially envisaged. The Foreign Office realised that the process of unifying defence plans was proving to be very slow, and ‘limited by the reluctance by individual member governments of one organisation to become involved, even indirectly, in the problems of another (in NATO the Scandinavians are particularly difficult).’91 Besides, security clearances considerably hindered the exchange of information between the alliances. By 1963, British diplomacy was continuing to promote the linking-up of the alliances and an increase in official and unofficial contacts. The idea of ‘educating the Europeans’ to undertake responsibilities beyond the NATO area gained ground in London, though not in continental Europe. The NATO partners remained cautious, each keeping their policies within their own continent and exhibiting a reluctance to risk co-operation with the unpopular regimes of the SEATO’s and CENTO’s regional members.92 However, there was a contradiction: London sought to avoid any public suggestion that the three organisations are ‘ganging up’ and the development of contacts among them should not be mentioned in public speeches or published communiqués except in most general terms. No publicity at all should be given to military liaison among the organisations.93 The key reason behind this policy was not to provoke Russia and China; but this also raised suspicions among Baghdad Pact and SEATO members as to the West’s true commitment to their defence. By the early 1960s, NATO and CENTO would share only data classified as ‘restricted’ and ‘confidential’; defence plans for joint Turco-Iranian land operations could not be worked out, since the Turkish Third Army was banned by NATO regulations from disclosing their war plans to Iran. SEATO contracted to release civil information to CENTO, but not to sharing intelligence higher than ‘confidential’. The Foreign Office, seeking to avoid friction among the allies and nervousness amongst the non-aligned (who had been watching these alliances closely), reached a pragmatic stance:

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We are not in favour of any further extensive increase in CENTO’s contacts with SEATO as problems arising with the non-aligned nations are more acute and there is less from the psychological point of view to be gained.94 Ironically, Baghdad – the city where the Pact had been signed – would become the epicentre of its demise. A coup staged on 14 July 1958 led to the killing of King Faisal II of Iraq and his prime minister. The new military government under General Abdul Karim Qassim promoted relations with Russia and China, and did not continue with the pact. Panic spread at the possibility of nationalist revolts instigated by Nasser. Eisenhower responded to Lebanese President Chamoun’s request for help, and US marines landed in Lebanon on 15 July. It was the first bold move under the Eisenhower doctrine declared a year earlier, when the President had stated that the United States ‘would come to the aid of any nation requesting aid against overt armed aggression from any nation controlled by international communism’.95 For the previous two years Eisenhower had been discouraging Turkey and Iraq (royalist until the Qassim coup) from invading Syria, a country seemingly influenced by communism and Nasser. The contradiction was that the US administration did not wish to involve the Baghdad Pact in an endeavour against Syria, though they welcomed a coalition of regional conservative regimes against Nasser.96 Britain backed the pro-West government of Jordan and the Hashemite dynasty, who were facing trouble, while Pakistan, Iran and Turkey applauded Anglo-American actions in Lebanon and Jordan. The British military, under immense pressure, retained its bases in Iraq for only eight months after the coup; they were withdrawn in March 1959. The loss of the RAF bases and facilities in Shaiba and Habbaniya (the latter within bombing range of South Russia, and the former – handed over to the Iraqis in 1956 – vital for supporting the defence of the oilfields in the event of war) simply meant that only Cyprus, Malta and Gibraltar could serve as staging posts for British operations in the Middle East.97 In the 1950s the British Middle East headquarters had been based in Cyprus, the air bases there facilitating signals-intelligence operations against Russia as well as the prompt dispatch of troops to Jordan in the summer of 1958. Aden was about to become, in 1960, the new locus of Middle East headquarters, and of the alternative strategic air route to the Gulf. After the Suez crisis the Arab countries, in protest, erected an ‘air barrier’ between the Mediterranean coasts and the Arabian Peninsula. This obstructed RAF flights as well as contingency planning for the defence of the Middle East in time of general war; aircraft

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would have to fly via Turkey and Iraq (until the coup). Thus the constellation of British air bases that could support deployments in the Middle East now comprised Gibraltar, Malta, Cyprus, Kano (Nigeria), Entebbe (Uganda) and Nairobi (Kenya). Meanwhile the Americans had secured a deal for the Dhahran air base in Saudi Arabia.98 In Asia, Ceylon, in protest at the British intervention in Suez, pressed the Royal Navy and the RAF to withdraw from the naval base at Trincomalee and air base at Katunayake. But soon a new base on the island of Gan in the Maldives would be built.99 A new alliance was in the making, but based on the Baghdad Pact’s terms of reference. Iraq had been the cornerstone of the pact, and now Dulles even hinted (deceptively) at possible American membership (but with no real intention of allowing any such development) to counter the loss of that state. The pact’s secretariat moved to London and then, following Turkish pressure, to Ankara. British diplomats were against turning the new alliance, CENTO, into a NATO-type organisation with full American membership, a supreme command and the allocation of forces. A key strategic objective was to support the weak Iran beyond bilateral agreements. Turkey, meanwhile, had enjoyed NATO membership since 1952, and received military and economic aid. Counsellor Burrows of the British Embassy in Ankara aired the concept of turning CENTO into an economic, technical and cultural co-operation organisation, and tried to convince NATO members to accept Iran. He admitted that for the time being the Baghdad Pact was ‘a bogey of uncommitted neighbours’.100 He was right, (prophetically) warning that the alliance could collapse if Iran signed a non-aggression pact with Russia. In 1979 CENTO would indeed collapse when the Shah fell from power. CENTO as a vehicle for Britain, the United States, Pakistan (also a member of SEATO) and Turkey (which was more interested in NATO) to back Iran became an alliance so much ‘Iranised’ in its military mission that without that country there was little reason to exist. On 5 March 1959, in Ankara, the United States signed bilateral agreements on defence and security with Pakistan, Iran and Turkey; on 21 August Britain, the United States (later to become an associate member, but for the time being an observer with full membership of certain committees) and the regional states agreed on the new name of their alliance, the Central Treaty Organisation, to defend the geographical region between the NATO and SEATO areas.101 Washington, as in the case of the Baghdad Pact, avoided siding fully with this alliance, fearing the political risk and the response of third-party regional states.102 In its turn, the Foreign Office explored ways of changing the defensive nature of the alliance into one of economic cooperation. Thus the military side of the alliance should be allowed ‘[to]

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stand still or gradually wither away and to give more and more emphasis to the economic side’.103 British diplomacy would start the long process of encouraging the regional partners to work together, but at the same time withholding further military resources. Harold Watkinson, the Defence Secretary, outlined the differences in the aims of the CENTO members: We are having trouble with the arrangements for the military direction of CENTO. The regional members have, for a variety of reasons, long wanted to establish a strong command structure. The United States have resisted this, since they believe that it would lead to large and unrealistic demands for military assistance and the commitment of forces. We share their fears, but find it difficult to argue against the command structure on military grounds. Provided the United States stands fast, we have been prepared to stand fast too … there is a real danger that the military side of CENTO may disintegrate. We cannot give more military aid and shall refuse to do so, but something could be done to improve military machinery …104 It was the long-held view of the State Department that detailed command arrangements would cause friction amongst the allies: ‘Such [military planning] would be a mistake since it would introduce into Baghdad Pact military planning, the “Pandora’s Box” of intra-area disputes.’105 However, not even the JCS had been convinced of the value of CENTO. The State Department was always in favour of a ‘very slow and reluctant expansion of US military participation’, while the Department of Defense actively sought participation on military grounds. The JCS admitted as early as 1960 that ‘there has been no recent systematic analysis of the military importance of CENTO to the national security of the United States’. The Pentagon was in favour of a ‘moderately improved defensive posture for CENTO’, meaning that the American investment in military aid as well as in command structures would be kept at a modest level. Thus prohibitive economic costs would be avoided, and third countries such as India would not be provoked by cooperation among the CENTO members.106 Pakistan, Iran and Turkey had been complaining of the United States not being interested in funnelling more arms to their military. The JCS emphasised that after five years of the Baghdad Pact (now CENTO), the organisation lacked military command, agreed military plans, effective liaison with NATO and SEATO, arrangements for tactical nuclear support or modern air-defence systems. The Pentagon urged the State Department and the White House to boost CENTO militarily, to avoid a ‘collapse’ resulting in that Iran, the ‘soft spot’

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of the alliance, becoming neutral – ‘… the basic problem in CENTO, both politically and militarily, is Iran … Iran is of strategic importance to the US security interests.’107 However, Iran would not incline to neutralism merely in protest at the limited nature of American aid; the fact was that the United States had not joined CENTO as a full member. Besides, there was a possibility that ‘[American] membership would not diminish the Shah’s appetite for military assistance and might even increase it.’108 In addition, the ‘vague’ terms of the Baghdad Pact had to be reviewed by the US Senate Foreign Relations Committee, where legislators would attempt to define precisely American obligations under the treaty if and when the United States joined as a full member; this would mean that ‘our hands [in CENTO] would be more closely tied than they are at present, and our freedom of action [would be] restricted.’109 This alliance could not be turned against the United Arab Republic (the union of Egypt and Syria). All members agreed on the 1959 ‘Political Guidance to the Military Committee’, identifying only Russia as a threat to CENTO. In its turn, the National Security Council assessing the Soviet threat simply warned that: ‘Should Soviet military support continue at roughly present levels – as is likely – and should Western assistance remain limited, the military power of Egypt and Syria will constitute a growing pressure on their neighbors and a threat to Israel.’110 However, according to the Special National Intelligence Estimate of 22 July 1958: The Soviets will seek to avoid courses of action which in their judgment seriously risk general war. Certain actions which do not involve clear-cut commitments – such as the military manoeuvres on the Turkish and Iranian frontiers and in the Black Sea, and the issuance of ominous statements – will almost certainly continue to be taken. The enrolment of ‘volunteers’, ostensibly for use in the Middle East, may also be used as a threat. 111 Beyond threat assessment and pressures from the regional partners for more aid to CENTO, the State Department had grasped a core issue: the effect of military programmes on development projects in Pakistan, Turkey and Iran. If Washington funnelled more arms to these countries, their leaders would be ‘encouraged’ to expand their militaries at the cost of their economy and development. Assessments of the Pakistani and Iranian economies characterised their condition as ‘bleak’. The United States should continue backing CENTO because it was in danger of collapsing, something that

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would be ‘a blow’ for American foreign policy. Nonetheless, the proposed solution from Matthews, the deputy Assistant Secretary of State, was that American support ‘should be increasingly directed toward economic projects with a Pact coloration’.112 In any case, the Foreign Office concurred with the Pentagon in wishing (within limits) to boost CENTO. It was remarked that: ‘We should from time to time remember that it’s worth the effort we now put into CENTO, and perhaps a little more, to keep the present system going.’113 London sided with Washington in avoiding the setting-up of a command structure; it was deemed ‘politically premature’.114 Such a move would excite the suspicion of India and Middle Eastern states, and would give the wrong impression to regional CENTO allies that the United States and Britain backed them in their disputes with their neighbours.115 Ironically, in this story of policy contradictions Britain – always keen to avoid military commitments – would end up being the only power with nuclear-armed bombers (based in Cyprus) declared to CENTO, while the regional members would become notorious for their lack of cooperation, and Pakistan would always seek to manoeuvre India onto the CENTO threat list. Besides, it was evident to London and Washington that Russia and China were neither provoked by the existence of CENTO and SEATO nor actually deterred by them. The British and Americans, having put aside the Suez debacle, differed in their perception of threats in the Middle East; in 1959 the British Future Policy Study Group maintained that: The American interest is overwhelmingly absorbed in the Communist threat … the Americans tend to regard everything else as of subordinate importance, where two other problems figure largely and assume coordinate importance in our thinking: radical nationalism and the security of oil supplies, which are threatened both by Communism and by radical nationalism.116 By the early 1960s the Americans held no illusions: The minor alliances, CENTO and SEATO are floundering. Never an effective organization, CENTO was greatly shaken in 1958 by the revolution in Iraq and that country’s subsequent withdrawal. Iran seems to be almost continuously in a condition of instability, and the British military position and general influence in the Middle East are extremely weak. Moreover, neutralist tendencies have emerged in Iran and Pakistan. SEATO has always been a loose association … the

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continuing failure of the principal members of the organization – the UK, US and France – to have a common estimate of the situation in, and a common policy toward, the Indochinese states makes it extremely difficult for SEATO to serve as an effective instrument for stability in the area …117 However, London and Washington tacitly agreed on one policy aim: they would try to keep their military contributions to CENTO and SEATO at modest levels.

2 Pakistan’s Strategy

There can never be a coherent alliance, ready to respond to aggression, if key regional allies maintain their own defence priorities, on the assumption that the main threat to their national security would derive from a country other than the one the alliance members had initially assessed and agreed upon. Pakistan was a member of CENTO, SEATO and the Commonwealth; geographically, it linked Asia and the Middle East and in theory could be the bridge for the coordination of CENTO and SEATO defence planning and military exercises. In practice, however, from the mid-1950s to the demise of these alliances Pakistan proved an uncommitted member, a country which always evaded obligations, while constantly urging its allies to identify India as a threat; and following the Indo-Pakistani wars of 1965 and 1971 it increased pressure on London and Washington to this end, but without success. Britain and the United States were well aware of the Pakistani intention of turning both alliances against India, and of bargaining for more hi-tech weaponry; since this could have upset the regional balance of power, it was resisted by Anglo-American diplomacy, and defence aid was restricted to the extent that Pakistan would be able to present only a limited defence in the event of communist aggression. Western strategists sought to keep Pakistan (which was interested in acquiring nuclear weapons as early as the mid1950s) in a position where it did not feel itself powerful enough to initiate a confrontation with India. London and Washington reasoned that their ally should not be provided with more military aid, since Russia and China posed a very low threat and there was no possibility of invasion (in fact Pakistani-Chinese and Pakistani-Russian relations would steadily improve from the early 1960s onwards).

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Pakistani tactics in its bid to acquire more US-made arms included continuous condemnation of the inefficiency of SEATO and the Baghdad Pact (later CENTO). Pakistani Ambassador Sayed Amjed Ali complained that: SEATO, so far, lacked strength in that there had been no clear-cut agreements as to when action would be taken; how it would be taken; and to what extent SEATO members would be supported by the rest of the Free World.1 He feared ‘words without conviction’, but the Americans were unembarrassed by charges of not committing themselves to SEATO and the Baghdad Pact. The Pakistani army had prioritised all its strategic and tactical planning for war with India, deploying the majority of its forces near the border with its neighbour, where the general staff aimed to build up at least five and a half well-equipped divisions. It was suggested that only after fulfilling this national requirement would Pakistan make a commitment to sending troops outside its borders to join Bagdad Pact and SEATO allies in the event of war. Besides, being almost landlocked, the country could not make a speedy contribution to the SEATO area – Pakistani forces were concentrated in the west of the country, and their transportation from there into Southeast Asia would require a long march around India.2 Thus, for the time being and at least until the Pakistanis had their planned divisions in place, their contribution to SEATO and the Baghdad Pact would be merely token. In any event, the regime under President Iskander Ali Mirza had little to fear from communist subversion since the Communist Party of Pakistan had no more than 3000 members, and could offer no serious threat to the government. Pakistan would not come to the aid of the West until it had first received specific guarantees of more than it stood to gain from the SEATO and Baghdad Pact treaties. The US intelligence community concluded that ‘in the event of general war, Pakistan would recognize that its interests and obligations lay with the West, but unless directly threatened, it would probably seek specific Western protection before overtly departing from nonbelligerence.’3 For the US Joint Chiefs of Staff, Pakistan was a low priority for arms aid, which was why the delivery of military hardware was subject to considerable delays, in turn prompting Pakistani complaints.4 Indeed, American planners overseeing military and economic aid to Pakistan feared that in the case of Pakistan we are spending money faster than it could be absorbed for military purposes. The very time required for training

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soldiers to use this [modern] equipment prevented its effective use for military purposes at such a rapid rate.5 At that time, Washington, the major donor to Pakistani defence, planned to spend $75 million to raise two infantry divisions ‘to effective combat efficiency’ (requiring the induction of approximately 18,000 officers and enlisted men, while the Pakistani plan of five and a half divisions would raise that figure to 40,000). According to the American plan two additional infantry divisions would remain ‘at reduced strength’, lacking artillery, transport, signals and other basic support units. One armoured division could be brought up to ‘limited combat strength’, but would lack effective anti-aircraft support. The Pentagon informed the State Department that: Upon the completion of the programme [the $75 million in military aid] … Pakistani army should have capability preserving internal security, provided no disturbances country-wide dimensions occur. However, this will be inadequate for protection of homeland and borders if Pakistan [fights] against attack either from north and west or south and east.6 American and Pakistani military representatives had been debating the interpretation of the 1954 Mutual Defense Assistance Agreement, with the Americans finding it difficult to persuade the Pakistanis to reduce the size of the Pakistani divisional strength from 25,000 troops to 17,500 and of the armoured division from 19,500 to 15,000. The Pakistanis assumed, wrongly, that the USA would help them to cover ‘equipment deficiencies’ for five and a half divisions in three and a half to four years’ time without regard to the $171 million aid package mentioned in the Agreement. On the contrary, the Department of Defense emphasised it was committed [to delivering] $171 million worth of military end items over a threeto-four year period and within funds made available by the Congress and, consistent with the priority of requirement upon the US, to continue to meet US screened deficiencies in the five and a half division basis. The Department of Defense now recognized that the figure of $171 million was based on an initial estimate and will not meet screened deficiencies in the Pakistan force.7 But the $171 million had jumped to $350 million by March 1956 (at which time only $21 million in military aid had thus far been provided).8

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Meanwhile, American diplomats warned that Pakistan might try to play off both sides (the USA and Russia) against each other: Embassy convinced there is deliberate effort at least encouraged by GOP [Government of Pakistan] to stage campaign prior visit of Secretary [of State] to squeeze US for additional aid and probably a substantial element of Pakistan officials and public opinion earnestly believe the best way to get most from US is to emulate example of Afghanistan, India and Egypt and try to play both sides.9 On 9 July 1956, President Mirza and US Vice-President Richard Nixon met in Karachi (then the capital of Pakistan – the seat of government would later be transferred to Rawalpindi and then to Islamabad). Mirza raised the issue of American troop commitments in case of war, for the defence of Pakistan under the auspices of the SEATO and Baghdad Pact. He assumed that Russia ‘could attack with substantial forces at D Day plus 35 [days] and, therefore, there must be a defence plan to assemble defensive forces at D Day plus 30’.10 At Nixon’s invitation, Colonel Leroy Watson (who was accompanying him) answered, stating confidently that the JCS ‘foresee no Soviet aggression in this area as a separate action. It would only occur if there were a global war … the Russian capacity is exaggerated.’ This reply, downplaying the Russian menace, did not divert Mirza from asking if there could be a speedy deployment of American forces for the defence of his country. Watson reassured him that ‘special troops with special [i.e. nuclear] weapons could be quickly made available and that the planning of the Bagdad pact countries on the military side was just getting under way.’11 Nixon and Watson presented a worst-case scenario, which they did not believe would ever materialise; thus for a conflict other than nuclear war, the American commitment of forces for the defence of Pakistan remained vague (and would continue as such). In his turn, Nixon asked Mirza about fears of communist subversion. The latter was more concerned, however, about the Iranian army’s lack of capability and the problem of its officers’ lack of quality – Iran did not appear to be an ally Pakistan could depend on – though he did refer to Afghanistan suggesting the chances for a Russian infiltration. Pakistan had a long-lasting dispute with Afghanistan over Pashtunistan, a region in north-west Pakistan claimed by Afghanistan. During a visit to the latter country in 1955, Soviet Premier Nikolai Bulganin had declared that he supported Pashtunistan’s right to self-determination. (Khrushchev had also asserted that Kashmir was Indian during a visit in India in November 1955.) Mirza played up

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the Afghan question, referring to its ‘considerable military importance’, but without impressing Nixon.12 The USA, in the person of the Vice-President, was urged to provide Pakistan with 20 light bombers, in accordance with the 1954 agreement; Mirza was clear – the aircraft would deter future Indian and Afghan adventurism, claiming that in 1951 Indian aggression had been deterred at the very last moment by an overflight of six old Pakistani Halifax bombers.13 Soon the Pakistanis would also put pressure on London for aid in the form of British submarines; Foreign Secretary Selwyn Lloyd would confide to the Americans that he did ‘his best to discourage’ his allies.14 Beyond arms and the regional balance of power, Pakistan wanted to enter the nuclear-science research club (as a first step towards joining the nuclear-arms club, but this was not of course revealed to Nixon); Ibrahim Chundrigar, the Prime Minister, complained that the Indian government had received $250,000 from Washington for heavy water, with Canada being a major donor of equipment for a $14-million reactor. Pakistan had received only $350,000 – half the cost of a small reactor ‘of no particular use’. Nixon, a bit concerned, realised that this was simply too delicate an issue to allow an expanded discussion, stating only that he understood the position of Pakistan, a member of Western alliances, while India sided with the non-aligned bloc.15 In the aftermath of the Suez crisis, which had strained UK-Pakistani relations, Washington did not predict that Pakistan would leave any Western-sponsored collective-defence organisation in protest, but would ‘remain unwilling to commit more than token forces for use under SEATO or the Baghdad Pact outside Pakistan’.16 The intelligence community noted a comment by the governor of West Pakistan, who claimed that: ‘When Pakistanis speak of defense they speak of “defense” against India.’ The outgoing American Ambassador, Horace Hildreth, argued that the ‘dispute with India [over Kashmir] causes diversion of resources and attention from internal problems and Soviet enemy’.17 His replacement, James Langley, valued Pakistan as the ‘cornerstone of US policy in this part of the world … the anchor of the Baghdad Pact … a bulwark of strength in the area’.18 However, The Americans were not interested in accelerating aid for the defence of Pakistan, since it would continue to turn its attention on India and fail to contribute anything meaningful to SEATO and the Baghdad Pact. Besides, there was no Russian threat in sight. Most significantly, the Pakistani government was paying little attention to the deterioration in the country’s economy. The American Ambassador spoke in frustration of his fear that ‘our past generosity in helping out friends has too often permitted them to avoid “grasping the nettle” and facing their problems with the

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required spirit of urgency and determination’;19 the military programme of Pakistan was ‘based on a hoax, the hoax being that it is related to the Soviet threat. Instead … the Pak[istani] forces are in betwixt and in between – they are unnecessarily large for prime purpose of assuming internal security and likewise unnecessarily large for dealing with Afghan threat over Pashtunistan … I am convinced that a position of the military strength built up in Pakistan would be of little use to us should perchance worst come to worst and India go communist.’20 By January 1958, Pakistan had agreed to the USA establishing a signals-intelligence base in Peshawar, from which U-2 spy flights would be launched until the ill-fated mission of Gary Powers on 1 May 1960. Some fears were aired that Pakistan would go communist unless US defence aid was accelerated and the Kashmir question resolved. The new Pakistani Prime Minister, Feroz Khan Noon, made an ominous remark in a speech in the National Assembly on 8 March 1958, but in fact did not alter Pakistani foreign or defence policy. Cabinet ministers worried about the arms race with India, but believed that eventually war could not be averted. Amjad Ali, the Finance Minister, claimed that India had been spending three billion rupees on defence compared to Pakistan’s one billion. He personally did not believe that India would attack Pakistan, but he was sure that the only option for his country would be war with India since it is ‘in possession of Kashmir and sits in control of the waters [of the Indus river]; therefore they can cripple us without going to war.’ His country had only two alternatives: ‘to acquiesce to India’s position or to go to war … any foreseeable Pakistan government would have to take the second alternative’.21 However, William Rountree, the US Assistant Secretary of State, argued that the Indian military build-up (proclaimed as a defence against Pakistan) was a ‘convenient political justification’ for India to arm itself against China. Even in the event of a dramatic improvement in Indo-Pakistani relations, New Delhi would have to continue looking for the operational upgrade of its military. American defence aid to Pakistan was not based on the status of Indo-Pakistani relations or on Indian arms-procurement programmes.22 This was hardly accurate. In fact, Washington paid close attention to the regional balance of power – but it was necessary as reassurance to calm the fears of the Pakistani minister. In addition, as Ambassador Langley put it, Pakistan was not informed of any planned wartime role. Amongst State Department officials it was considered that in the event of a general war with Russia the military value of the Pakistan army would be ‘dubious at best.’ In its turn, the US Congress believed that the money for military aid would be better spent on development projects to boost the economy, rather

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than on the arms programmes favoured by Pakistani generals.23 Discussing the Pakistani request for the light bombers, General Ayub Khan (who together with Mirza would declare martial law on 7 October 1958) stated honestly that the request was related more ‘to the threat of India than threats from other sources’ (i.e. Russia or China). In vain, Mansfield Sprague, the US Assistant Secretary of Defense, tried to explain that ‘our military aid programme was not for the specific purpose of solving such problems [i.e. the Indo-Pakistani dispute], it was intended more to support the common effort against the aggression of international communism.’ He offered B-57 bombers, but was instantly rebuffed by the Pakistani general, who called it an ‘antiquated airplane’; he wanted the B-66 or some F-100s.24 No decision was taken until the visit of Eisenhower to Karachi a year later. The Assistant Secretary of Defense said that the Pakistani armed forces could not be upgraded in the short term, and their value in war would be limited. He remarked that: There are serious reservations concerning the ability of Pakistan to absorb more advanced equipment. Additionally the introduction of more advanced weapons systems might well prove to be prohibitively costly, not only from a US point of view but also from a Pakistani point of view.25 The US administration understood that the Pakistanis wanted to be reassured as to the American intention to help them in the event of aggression ‘by any country’. Dulles authorised his ambassador to repeat a 1956 statement to the effect that ‘a threat to the territorial integrity or political independence of the members [of SEATO and the Baghdad Pact] would be viewed by the United States with the utmost gravity’; this (rather evasive) statement should not be made public by the government of Pakistan. A 1957 claim by Prime Minister Noon was attached to the statement: after a meeting with Dulles, Noon had claimed that: ‘He left me in no doubt that the United States would promptly and effectively come to the assistance of Pakistan if it were subjected to armed aggression which, however, the United States did not anticipate.’26 National Intelligence Estimate 52-59 claimed that Pakistan viewed its membership of SEATO and the Baghdad Pact as a way to acquire more arms for potential use against India. Pakistanis were anti-communist and their leaders were ‘aware of the military threat to their northern borders posed by USSR and Communist China’. (This was a contradictory remark, since the State Department and other intelligence community assessments deemed

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the Russian threat almost non-existent.) The Pakistanis might increase their modest trade with Russia and other Eastern Bloc countries ‘as a device for maintaining US support’; thus they would ‘display occasional signs of susceptibility to Soviet economic and technical assistance’.27 However, within the US administration officials could not assess the dividends to be gained by future aid to Pakistan ‘until our military planners decide in specific terms what our strategic objectives are in Pakistan’.28 The Pakistani Ambassador in Washington, Aziz Ahmed, in an attempt to convince the Americans to provide F-104s, claimed [a] general threat of communism to the area as evidenced by events in Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan and Tibet ... this communist thrust was more dangerous than the Berlin situation [the crisis instigated by the ultimatum of Khrushchev in late November 1958 to all powers to withdraw and hand over control of the city to East Germany] … the threat to South Asia in the form of communist subversion and exploitation of regional quarrels required joint action by India and Pakistan. In any case, ‘the danger of overt invasion of the sub-continent was not great but Tibet might become an offensive base for bringing various kinds of pressure on India and Pakistan’.29 But Rountree predicted confidently that ‘the communist military threat to NEA (Near East Asia) will not become more acute.’30 In December 1959, Eisenhower visited Karachi and held discussions with President Ayub. The Pakistani president raised the issue of a commander-in-chief for the CENTO forces since ‘he felt the organisation would be a “paper tiger” without one [a command structure] … it should have an American commander who would undertake to see what should be done to put teeth in the organisation’. Skilfully, Eisenhower evaded the issue, simply commenting that he was under the impression that the Shah of Iran had wanted for some time to become a CENTO commander-inchief. Ayub agreed but claimed that for constitutional reasons the Shah would not be able to run CENTO on a day-by-day basis. Eisenhower asked Ayub why Pakistan did not seek military aid from Britain, since the nations had ‘historic relations’. Ayub replied (probably with a smile) that the ‘there were perhaps too many historic relations’ to make Anglo-Pakistani militaryassistance programmes work smoothly. He argued that CENTO had to become more efficient and the regional states, all armed by the United States, had to cooperate; otherwise those states, if left militarily weak and with no modern armed forces, would ask the USA to defend them in time of

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war. He personally asked for F-104 fighter-bombers and for the Nike-Ajax anti-aircraft system, complaining about Russian and Chinese overflights – his country did not have the necessary weapons systems to respond to these intrusions.31 Ayub feared that if one day Afghanistan was overrun by Russia (currently Russian engineers were building a broad road network in that country which Ayub thought unjustified, on the assumption that it could play a role in future military activity), the natural defence line for the subcontinent would be the Hindu Kush, a 500-mile mountain range stretching between northern Pakistan and central Afghanistan.32 However, he admitted that for the time being Russia was relaxing tension, using ‘soft tactics’ in the region ‘in order to gain further opportunities for consolidation’. Ayub foresaw that in the long term a Sino-Soviet rift would open up.33 He wanted US-made weapons for CENTO countries on the grounds of equipment compatibility in time of war, and saw the CENTO force goals as ‘extremely low’; he seemed to understand the American policy of not wanting an increase in these goals, but thought Washington should do more to update the CENTO regional militaries, especially the Pakistani forces.34 Eventually, Eisenhower opted to provide Pakistan with 30 F-104s, and Washington informed duly India of this as well as of supplying Pakistan with modern Sidewinder air-to-air missiles. The State Department aimed to keep this confidential for some time, seeking to avoid Iran filing a similar request.35 However, Under-Secretary Christian Herter at the State Department assumed that ‘it seems unlikely Pakistan would be subjected in near future to overt military aggression on scale justifying revision [of ] US military aid policy and [of ] programme [of ] accelerated modernisation of Pakistan forces’.36 Leon Poullada, of the Pakistan-Afghanistan affairs section at the State Department, aired his concern at differing American and Pakistani motivations: It is now fairly clear that whereas we predicated our military aid on the communist threat, the Pakistanis were anxious to receive it principally in order to strengthen their position against India … more recently public and governmental attitudes in the US towards the nature of the communist threat have altered and there is much less fear now of physical communist aggression and much more awareness of its capabilities for economic and political subversion. Our attitudes toward India have also changed. There is much more acceptance now of the neutralist position than was the case in 1954.37

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American foreign policy in South Asia should urge Pakistan and India to come to an agreement, help the Pakistani economy to become self-sufficient and continue with defence aid. From an American perspective the issue was to create a modest but efficient [Pakistani] military establishment which will give us adequate political leverage with Pakistan’s leaders. It is also of some importance to us as an instrument for maintaining political stability in the country and for limited deterrence [emphasis added] of communist aggression.38 China was no enemy of Pakistan. Poullada’s view was clear: I cannot sincerely convince myself that the Chinese communists are going to launch any large-scale invasion of Pakistan. Overflights of remote parts of Pakistan and perhaps even small probing actions along un-demarcated frontiers, may occur … a similar evaluation could be made about Afghanistan. The Afghans themselves could hardly, at this time, launch an effective attack against Pakistan.39 The shooting-down of Gary Powers’ U-2 did not have a serious impact in Pakistani-Russian relations, despite the initial anxiety of American diplomats in Pakistan. At the State Department the view was that: There was a sharp reaction at the time of the U-2 incident, but our information does not indicate that this treatment had continued. The Russians, whatever their real intentions, appear to have gone out of their way in recent months to handle the Pakistanis gently – e.g., their conclusion of an oil exploration agreement; indications that they will offer other forms of technical assistance; and a more friendly tone in broadcasts to Pakistan … we have no evidence that the Russians openly encouraged the Afghans [in incursions] in their Bajaur [region] venture.40 A year later, in December 1961, the Indian takeover of Goa, after brief fighting with Portuguese forces, and anti-Pakistani statements by Krishna Menon, the Indian Defence Minister, prompted Pakistan to intensify calls for CENTO to address defence priorities.41 (Although Portugal was a NATO ally, Washington did not offer it any meaningful support; Kennedy simply appealed, in vain, to Nehru not to invade, though later American diplomacy

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at the UN Security Council condemned the invasion as a violation of the UN Charter.)42 Continuing Indo-Pakistani antagonism meant that India’s relations with third countries were viewed by the Pakistani government in the context of the competition over Kashmir. In the middle of the Cuban missile crisis that preoccupied Kennedy and his cabinet, on 20 October 1962, Chinese forces invaded the disputed border area of Tibet, and India’s Northeast Frontier Agency. On 26 October Nehru (in desperation, and despite his neutralist foreign policy up to then) asked for American military aid. Kennedy, fearing a full-scale war, approved. Nonetheless, Russia remained neutral, to avoid damaging relations with either China or India. From 3 November onwards Washington commenced supplying arms to the Indian military. This caused Pakistan’s President Ayub to protest, asking the Americans why he had not been consulted on military aid to India. He refused to give Kennedy an undertaking to transfer troops from the border with India to the Himalayas, as a reassurance to Nehru. Ayub’s assessment of Chinese intentions as limited had been accurate, while claiming – as usual – that India had hostile intentions against his country: Eighty per cent or more of her Armed Forces have already been earmarked against us and the bulk of them remain concentrated on our borders on ten days’ state of readiness. We have been exposed to these aggressive designs all these years simply because the Indian Prime Minister himself is not prepared to honour his pledge in regard to so many agreements and especially in regard to the solution of Kashmir in which Pakistan is vitally interested for profound economic and security reasons. Therefore, by and large, we have spent these fifteen years in a state of mobilization which has been forced upon us by India. On top of all this, the recent conflict between India and China has led to developments of grave concern to us. However, our own information, although meagre, leads us to believe that the Chinese intention seems to be to occupy the territory which they believe belongs to them and over which there has been a dispute between her and India. Even Mr. Nehru thought it fit in his wisdom to declare in the Indian Parliament in 1954 with reference to the Chinese position in Tibet that ‘I am not aware of any time during the last few hundred years when Chinese sovereignty, or if you like suzerainty, was challenged by any outside country. All during this period, whether China was weak or strong, or whatever the Government of China

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was, China always maintained its claim to sovereignty over Tibet … The British Empire in the days of Lord Curzon had expanded into and made several types of arrangements in Tibet. Now it is impossible or improper for us to continue any such arrangements … These maps and treaties are all prepared by the British Imperialists. These treaties and maps are intended to show that we must act as they did. Militarily, however, we do not believe that China can bring to bear against India her major forces through the difficult terrain of the Himalayas to achieve decisive results, and even if she has any such intention the way to do it would be to outflank India through Burma. In our opinion, that would be a simpler way of doing it and in cost it would be cheaper. If the Chinese intentions were more than limited and they were to expand into the territories of Assam, we would have as much cause for concern as India, as our East Pakistan would be directly affected.43 Eventually, though the Indian military were defeated, China declared a unilateral cease-fire on 21 November and withdrew its forces by 20 kilometres. The defeat in the Sino-Indian war had cost Menon his post as well as inflicting considerable damage on the prestige of the Indian armed forces. Meanwhile, rumours of Pakistan leaving CENTO were aired, with the government-run daily Dawn even suggesting that the foreign minister should not attend the CENTO meeting in London in the spring of 1962. Fearing Pakistani non-cooperation, the British Ambassador in Turkey called for a brave attempt to persuade Pakistan of the advantages to be gained from CENTO membership – defence against any communist or communist-instigated threat. Besides, Britain and the United States could exercise ‘bilateral restraining influences’ on India if Indo-Pakistani relations worsened. Thus ‘Pakistan will be better able to meet the alleged Indian threat if supported and reassured with regard to the communist one as she can be through CENTO.’ London and Washington reconsidered the issue of appointing a commander for CENTO’s Military Staff (previously Military Planning Staff), and urged the Pakistanis (who had always complained about the inefficiency of the alliance) to accept the appointment of an allied commander. London yielded to the appointment of a British officer, since the US administration wanted no American in this post, justifying their position by claiming that it was politically ‘premature’ for the alliance to have a military command structure. Washington would work with CENTO ‘only a little at a time’, as Under-Secretary Livingston Merchant remarked.

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Representing the JCS, General Oliver Picher argued that a command structure was a key issue in ‘keeping CENTO alive’. Most interestingly, Merchant feared that a command structure would invite the regional allies to ask for more money. After Pakistan’s refusal to have a British officer in command of the Military Staff (the Pakistanis assumed that a British officer would be biased in favour of India) no appointment was made.44 Obviously this dispute had a corrosive effect on military planning and morale among the allies. Nonetheless, Washington and London were not overly concerned, since Russian or Chinese threats in the CENTO and SEATO areas were non-existent, and there was also no real anxiety about Pakistan leaving CENTO. Besides, the British High Commission in Delhi warned that if London even implied ‘special assurances’ about Pakistan’s security – so as to mute the effects of the country’s stance – that would be ‘very dangerous. There would be great leakage here [in India] which would certainly be taken up (and probably distorted) in manner most embarrassing to ourselves.’45 British Foreign Secretary Alec Douglas-Home and Dean Rusk, Secretary of State in the Kennedy administration, were in agreement on how to deal with their CENTO allies, while Rusk appeared frustrated with regional allies who ‘were in the habit of asking for more aid in the name of CENTO’. Washington was determined not to finance projects of low national priority simply to prove that CENTO membership brought advantages. The Shah initially asked for more than $1 billion aid package, but Rusk was not willing to cover such extravagant requests. Douglas-Home concurred on the need to put pressure on the Pakistanis to accept a British officer in command of CENTO’s Military Staff. Nonetheless, he commented realistically that since in any event neither London nor Washington liked the idea of having a commander-in-chief, if this endeavour failed (due to Pakistani intransigence) they ‘should not take it too tragically’. Another special issue was the work of the CENTO Counter-subversion Committee, a body dealing mainly with propaganda and aided by the Information Research Department (IRD) of the Foreign Office.46 The Committee’s propaganda scheme did not enjoy the full support of all the members; most surprisingly, Turkey (a partner otherwise loyal to the alliance) hindered the propaganda operations. Ambassador H.J. Spence informed London from Ankara that: In the last four or five months [early 1965] the counter-subversion activities of CENTO … have been under fire in some of the more important and influential Turkish dailies. The public mood is more distinctly nationalistic. Official channels are more reluctant to handle anti-Soviet or anti-bloc material even unattributably [sic].47

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Douglas-Home assumed that the Pakistanis ‘would be only too glad to involve CENTO in their quarrels with India, and Afghanistan and the Iranians wanted CENTO to do something about Egyptian propaganda’, while Rusk once again reiterated that CENTO’s mission was only to deter Russia and China. The Secretary of State was suspicious of Pakistani motives, since [they were] doing all they could to hinder the efforts that the United States were making in Afghanistan to keep the Afghans from slipping over into the Russian camp. When taking this line the Pakistanis played down the amount of Russian involvement in Afghan affairs, but now, when they aimed for CENTO’s backing in their quarrel with Afghanistan, they were apparently playing up Russian involvement. They ought not to be allowed to have it both ways.48 During the 1962 CENTO secretaries’ conference the Pakistani delegation (which generally received the ‘limited support’ of the other regional members) urged Rusk to decrease aid to Afghanistan on the grounds that the country leant towards Russia, but he rejected this suggestion, citing the danger of a backlash.49 By August 1962, Rusk had in principle accepted CENTO planning for ‘limited war’, warning the regional partners that he meant a war with Russia or against a Soviet-backed opponent. London sided with the American pledge, since it was deemed that such a political statement should not be left unsupported. Besides, Douglas-Home admitted that while ‘there are at present [1963] no very serious threats of limited war against which CENTO can plan, if a real threat were to emerge we and the Americans would obviously have to respond to the best of our ability.’ However, it was a key issue for Douglas-Home that London should not give to the Americans and the other allies the impression that the acceptance of limited-war planning meant an increase in British commitments. ‘To guard against possible misunderstanding [about committing more forces to CENTO]’ British diplomacy would inform the allies that no new forces would be assigned for the time being; only when the need for declaration of forces arose would London provide such information to them. In any event, during the CENTO consultations ‘we and the Americans will, however, have to be on our guard not to let CENTO limited war planning embroil us with the Arab countries [Iraq and Egypt].’50 For the time being four British Canberra squadrons, based in Cyprus and armed with nuclear weapons, constituted the only

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nuclear-deterrence capability declared to the alliance.51 CENTO was described as a key organisation linking up the ‘cordon sanitaire’ provided by NATO and SEATO. In truth, it was an alliance in bad shape, suffering from disagreements among its members from the time of the Baghdad Pact onwards. By 1964 the Foreign Office was insisting that: CENTO remains a weak organisation in constant need of moral and material bolstering by the United Kingdom and the United States ... CENTO’s weakness derives mainly from its dubious credibility as a military organisation and from the divergencies [sic] in aims and policies among its members … the maintenance of the military credibility of CENTO depends to a considerable extent on the United Kingdom commitment of four Canberra squadrons in Cyprus; any weakening of the commitment would be seriously damaging. A subsidiary United Kingdom contribution is the military aid at present applied to providing a radar chain in Iran.52 Pakistan and Iran wanted to turn it into ‘a Middle East NATO’, and the former proved ‘consistently bitter at our [the UK’s] and the Americans’ refusal to allow the CENTO military planners to drawn up plans to deal with the alleged threat from India and by our decision to provide India with military aid’; but despite frequent rumours, Pakistan was not to leave CENTO.53 Currently, ‘the slowness of their [the Pakistanis’] administrative machinery, disturbs and obstructs the working of CENTO’, while the ‘constant decrying in Pakistan of the value of her alignment with the West in CENTO saps the organisation’s credibility’.54 The British High Commission in Pakistan as well as the American Embassy there argued that despite suggestions aired in various quarters, the Pakistanis would not leave CENTO, but would first withdraw from SEATO if they opted for non-alignment.55 Turkey and Iran had their own agendas; the Turks were preoccupied more with NATO and loyally supported CENTO, but made no move to boost the alliance. Iran under the Shah broke with its neutralist foreignpolicy tradition, though there remained a current of such thinking in the country. The Shah was the only figure who could keep Iran within CENTO, for as long as he believed that the alliance contributed directly to Iran’s security. In Foreign Office thinking CENTO served Iran; and Iran had to be served by CENTO (as well as by the bilateral agreement with Washington) in order not to return to neutralism; thus ‘it is Iran above all that must be cosseted and continually reassured of CENTO’s credibility,’ remarked a study of the alliance’s problems.56

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Credibility was linked to deterrence; and here was the big issue. The deterrence capability of CENTO rested ‘on very slender foundations’. In addition to the chronic problem of the lack of a command structure and the absence of integrated regional armed forces, a major disadvantage was made ‘more so because of the American refusal to commit any forces … It is in the light of this American refusal that our own commitment to CENTO , four squadrons of nuclear strike Canberras based on Cyprus (and minor naval forces based on Aden), has a symbolic significance out of proportion to its strict military value.’ The Americans spent only approximately $2 million on a CENTO military-communications system, channelling all other military aid via bilateral agreements; Britain merely helped in a project to build three radar stations in Iran. However some planners emphasised that they should offer Iran something similar in value if they decided not to go ahead with a fourth station.57 In their turn, the Russians, preoccupied with a strategy of rapprochement with Turkey and Iran, did not assault CENTO with their propaganda: ‘even communist attacks upon it [CENTO] have become less frequent and less shrill and have appeared mainly in clandestine broadcasts and publications.’58 Denis Allen, Her Majesty’s Ambassador in Ankara, called Pakistan ‘the sick man of CENTO’ and cited that country’s ‘intemperate statements of dissatisfaction’ during the alliance conferences in 1963. Indeed Pakistan’s ‘attitude has become increasingly unhelpful on the military side’. However, the Pakistanis did made a contribution to the modest annual naval exercise, Midlink ’63. The Turks found CENTO consultations a convenient forum for promoting their policy on Cyprus, as well as for the sharing of general information on developments in Ba’athist Iraq and Syria.59 There were some modest achievements: an initial agreement, for example, on how to bring NATO and CENTO closer, starting with air-defence liaison. In addition, Washington invested in a CENTO communications network that would link the UK bases on Cyprus with Ankara, Tehran and Karachi. The network was to go operational in the first half of 1964, but due to the dispute over the appointment of a commander for the CENTO military staff ‘joint military planning is now at a complete standstill’.60 Allen described the sense of disbelief amongst the allies: the Americans suspected their regional allies of wishing to use CENTO to sustain inflated claims for United States aid, and the regional members to accuse the Americans of wanting to avoid any real planning in CENTO such as would establish the true requirements for successful defence of the area without relying on

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strategic nuclear striking power. There is enough truth in these mutual suspicions to keep the work of the CENTO combined Military Planning Staff in a state of frustration.61 Concerning the United Kingdom, ‘it appears to be generally recognised’ that the declaration of the nuclear-armed Canberras in Cyprus was the British military contribution.62 London could not offer more. In 1964, Pakistan, Turkey and Iran founded a body called Regional Cooperation for Development (RCD) to promote socio-economic development and cooperation. Insufficiently coherent as it was, this organisation was considered by the Americans and Pakistanis to be a supplement to CENTO.63 Admittedly, the Pakistani stance had another face: on the one hand newspapers presented CENTO’s achievements in the field of economic cooperation, with the Pakistan Times (a governmentcontrolled daily) on 24 February 1964 paying tribute to the cohesion of the alliance, and on the other hand there was Pakistan’s ‘abysmal performance’ in boycotting a reception on the occasion of a visit to Karachi of American, British and Iranian ships. The British High Commission was critical, informing London that: ‘The Pakistanis for their part confined themselves to giving an unenthusiastic and poorly attended reception [in reciprocity] … The silliest feature of all was that the Pakistanis refused to allow any mention of CENTO (let alone of [its] tenth anniversary).’64 Indo-Pakistani relations reached crisis point in 1965, and hostilities broke out. In April considerable forces, at brigade level, clashed in the disputed Rann of Kutch territory (where the India-West Pakistan border meets the Arabian Sea). It was clear that CENTO and SEATO were incapable of doing anything to avert the crisis. However, Britain – acting alone – would manage to mediate successfully in the crisis over the area, where by 9 April Pakistani and Indian brigades were confronting each other. On 24 April, the conflict intensified, and the new Labour government under Harold Wilson took the lead in seeking to avert a full-scale war. The Commonwealth Relations Office assumed that Pakistani assertiveness was based on a strategy of making ‘the maximum trouble for India … as part of [a] continuing effort to ensure that world opinion does not cease to bring pressure on the Indian government to reach an acceptable settlement of the Kashmir dispute’.65 Wilson sent personal messages to Ayub and to Indian Prime Minister Lal Bahadur Shastri. Eventually an informal cease-fire was agreed for 30 April

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and negotiations commenced, with British ministers as intermediaries. The heads of both adversary states met at the Commonwealth conference in London two months later, and on 31 June a peace agreement was signed. Washington commended Wilson’s diplomatic skill, with President Johnson claiming that the British ‘worked like Trojans, under the most complicated and frustrating circumstances to hammer out … an agreement’.66 Meanwhile, the Pakistani leadership, under the decisive influence of Foreign Minister Bhutto, had become a strong critic of American policy, to the extent that on 23 July Rusk drafted a strong message to Rawalpindi: We have constructed SEATO and CENTO as directed specifically and exclusively against the communist threat. US has taken these alliances into account in providing truly massive investment in Pakistan’s viability and security, an investment which on any proportionate basis [is] far greater than that which US has made in India, for example. Indeed, Pakistan [is] second largest recipient [of ] US aid in [the] world. Yet, as focus of US effort [to] resist Communist expansion has shifted increasingly to Southeast Asia, it has received less and less cooperation from its Pakistani allies. This despite the fact that US [is] defending [the] flank of South Asia, including Pakistan. We [are] deeply disappointed … the supplying of foreign aid is [a] privilege not an obligation …67 Diplomacy would be followed by further warfare in August. The Pakistani government assumed that the Rann of Kutch crisis had ended in their favour and, being ‘truculent and self-confident’, launched a 5,000-man guerrilla campaign during the night of 5 August to stir up revolt in Kashmir.68 The population did not join in, however, and on 1 September a Pakistani brigade was dispatched with full artillery, air and armour support. But the Indian response was to upset the Pakistani strategy: on 6 September Indian armoured units invaded Pakistan, heading towards Lahore. Wilson, surprised by these events, played a controversial role, immediately condemning the Indian counter-attack (on the recommendation of the CRO). India took offence at the charge of aggression: London should maintain a neutral stance, while it was Pakistan which had initiated the conflict. Wilson’s policy led to Indian anger and Shastri, bitterly disappointed, stated that he trusted Russia and the United States in a mediating role more than Britain, accusing the Wilson government of bias. In fact, the American contribution to mediating in the crisis was minimal, since Washington feared alienating both India and Pakistan. President Johnson himself had admitted on 2 September that ‘he had found out over the last few months how little influence [the United States] had

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with the Pakistanis or Indians … he did not want to intervene personally. He would like to sit it out a little bit.’ Thus American diplomacy would strongly support the United Nations’ diplomatic efforts; ‘we should hide behind the log,’ remarked Johnson.69 By 6 September, Rusk himself had assumed that neither Johnson nor he could do much to discourage the belligerents.70 Washington found itself enmeshed in a complex web of regional balance-of-power considerations and of aid programmes with reference to Pakistan, India and China, which showed how irrelevant SEATO and CENTO were. Pakistan was armed by the Americans and received their economic aid; now Pakistan had turned against India, a non-aligned country which nonetheless, since the Sino-Indian war of 1962, had been receiving American arms. Washington wanted to build up strong relations with India (a country that was suffering a severe famine at the time, and asking for American aid) so as to avert the expansion of Chinese influence and deter any adventurism in the subcontinent. Pakistan asked for American backing under the auspices of CENTO and the bilateral agreements, but Washington could not turn against India. Anglo-American diplomacy agreed to suspend any military and economic aid to both Pakistan and India (Pakistan being about to receive T33 and F-104 aircraft, 160 Sidewinder missiles, 47 M-48 tanks and other munitions, and India engines for its C-119s).71 In protest, Pakistan closed down the Peshawar base, in a blow to the US intelligence community. In addition, the suspension of UK military aid to the warring sides played a good part in rising further suspicions on the part of India – which relied on British arms – that Britain was no longer to be trusted.72 Most significantly, there was a strong fear of possible Chinese intervention. H.A.F. Rumbold of the CRO feared that if the Chinese backed Pakistan, the United States would respond by supporting India, making ‘a full scale nuclear war’ a dangerous possibility.73 Wilson himself feared that the Chinese aimed ‘to fish in troubled waters. Whatever else came out of the unhappy business of Kashmir, he [Wilson] hoped that no one would allow China to profit from it.’74 Indeed, if China intervened against India, as was suggested by some strong Chinese statements, Washington would find itself defending India. The US intelligence community claimed that since early 1964 clandestine reports had been received revealing ‘a possible Sino-Pakistani mutual defense agreement of some kind. It seems probable, however, that any such understanding would be very loose and cast in terms which provide Beijing maximum latitude in deciding when or whether it might come into force.’75 Chou En-lai, the Chinese Foreign Minister, had already suggested to Ayub that Pakistan withdraw from SEATO.76 Meanwhile, the Iranian Ambassador in Pakistan argued that: ‘Bhutto

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admitted his policy is based on the assumption that the United States will be forced out of Vietnam and that Pakistan had better accommodate to an increasingly powerful Red China.’77 On 16 September, a Special Intelligence Estimate assuaged Johnson’s fear of Chinese adventurism; it argued that: … China will avoid direct, large-scale, military involvement in the Indo-Pakistani war. An impending Pakistani defeat would, however, substantially increase the pressures for Chinese entry. Even in this circumstance we believe the chances are better than even that the logistic problems involved and the primacy of Vietnam in China’s interests would keep China from undertaking a major military venture against India … the odds that it [China] might launch a limitedobjective attack similar to that of 1962 are somewhat lower.78 The Indian government urged Washington to begin some type of joint military planning that would facilitate actual American participation in a (hypothetical) war with China. But Johnson did not wish to commit himself beyond the unanimous UN Security Council resolution of 22 September calling for an unconditional ceasefire. The State Department had already transmitted a message to the US Embassy in New Delhi that ‘a decision taken at the “highest level” was to avoid commitment of any sort pending the unfolding of the situation … the embassy was instructed to indicate that US commitment in Vietnam was heavy and increasing. Effective defense of the subcontinent, from the US perspective, depended on the internal strength of India and Pakistan …’79 Eventually, hostilities ended on 23 September. Iran and Turkey had already broken ranks with its CENTO allies in issuing a joint communiqué, on 10 September, putting the blame on India. Expressing their ‘readiness’ to back Pakistan, they supported the UN Secretary General’s appeal for a cease-fire, and offered troops for a UN peacekeeping mission.80 In the end, the Chinese showed restraint, but the Russians took advantage of the crisis in their successful mediating effort, which culminated in the Tashkent declaration of January 1966, establishing a formal truce. Freeman, the British High Commissioner in New Delhi, estimated that the Russians were afraid of the Chinese, not of the Western-sponsored alliances, and remarked that Russia sought to avoid Pakistan’s becoming a Chinese satellite, by the hope of weaning Pakistan from CENTO and SEATO, by fear of a major war

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developing so close to the Soviet border, and also perhaps because the neighbouring Soviet territories are mainly Moslem in character.81 Eventually, all CENTO members realised that the Indo-Pakistani war had crippled the already doubtful military preparedness of the alliance. There was some fear in October 1965 that Pakistan would withdraw from the organisation in protest at the Anglo-American stance during the war, thus leading to the collapse of the alliance as it was then constituted;82 but this did not materialise. In London ministers were informed that: ‘CENTO was not a viable alliance, in particular because of the possible defection of Pakistan, and that the benefits [to the UK] to be derived from CENTO would not justify expenditure on [British] forces declared to it.’83 Pakistan remained in CENTO, though abstaining from joint military exercises; Turkey and Iran drew their own conclusions. Denis Allen, the British Ambassador in Ankara took the view that: They [the Turks and Iranians] both recognise that CENTO’s only course is to lie as low as possible but the Turks have been the more eager to keep out trouble and embarrassment, while the Iranians … draw gloomy conclusions about the disastrous long-term effects of inactivity upon the organisations’s authority. The Turks ‘thanks partly to Cyprus [the ethnic clashes there began in 1963], have very few illusions about CENTO anyway and, being members of NATO, can afford a more disinterested view of CENTO’s shortcomings’.84 The rising level of antagonism between Russia and China left CENTO and SEATO appearing like irrelevant and dysfunctional West-sponsored alliances with no real usefulness. The Russians contributed significantly to the upgrading of the Indian military, from 1963 onwards providing modern Mig-21 fighters. (Anglo-American diplomacy failed to persuade Nehru to purchase the British Lightning fighter/bomber. Though Kennedy himself wrote to Macmillan about this scheme, Menon killed it.)85 By 1966, India had purchased up to 40 Russian-made helicopters and 50 Mig-21s. After 1963 Russian policy on Kashmir gradually changed; once Pakistan had proclaimed an ‘independent’ foreign policy, pro-Indian statements by Soviet leaders were scaled down. Declarations of support for India were assessed by the Foreign Office as infrequent and ‘less categorical’. Russian mediation during the 1965 war boosted Moscow’s prestige and influence in Pakistani eyes. As for Pakistan, the Foreign Office assumed that:

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The Russians [after the 1962 war] were much less prepared to tolerate Chinese influence in Pakistan than Western – Pakistan’s membership of SEATO and CENTO was in any case becoming more and more meaningless militarily and the Russians had much more reason to fear the consequences of Chinese influence which threatened to bring about conflict on her Southern border.86 As a result, Russian economic aid to Pakistan increased. In addition, Russia aimed ‘for tactics of a more friendly approach’ to Turkey and Iran, ‘whose strategic importance to the West had declined and whose fear of Russia had grown correspondingly less’.87 According to the Foreign Office, the main opponent of Soviet policy was not CENTO and SEATO but China (by 1964 the Chinese military had tested their first nuclear weapon, joining the nuclear club and upgrading their great-power status). But, Moscow’s neutral stance towards India and Pakistan was not easy to maintain – it had after all been supplying India with arms. Pakistan, after the American suspension of arms deliveries prompted by the 1965 war, sought to find alternative arms sources, since China could not for the time being satisfy all Pakistan’s requirements for modern weapons. The country needed advanced weaponry, and if the Russians did not supply it (thus opting to jeopardise their relations with India) Pakistan would lose interest in Russian friendship, according to a Foreign Office study. CENTO and SEATO had shown themselves so irrelevant that neither the Russians nor the Chinese seemed inclined to bother with confronting them. Besides, the Russians were ‘unlikely to take any initiative which would lead to a sudden or radical change in the balance of power’ in the subcontinent.88 A Cabinet Office study, concluded in 1965, argued that Russia was ‘not a likely aggressor’ for Pakistan. Even if the latter were to face an invasion from Afghanistan, ‘which might in theory involve us [the UK] on the basis of our SEATO or CENTO obligations or of Commonwealth solidarity, would not in practice be likely to be on a serious enough scale for Pakistan to want British military help.’ 89 In any case, the Americans would respond only in the event of a communist or communist-backed opponent. ‘If invited’, and only with American cooperation, Britain would examine seriously air and naval intervention only in the Indian interest if China were to attack.90 By 1966, even the hypothetical threat of China had receded; the Cultural Revolution commenced in the spring, leading to widespread mayhem in the country. Pakistan did not alter its policy towards CENTO and SEATO; the following year, two ministerial councils were postponed at Pakistan’s request. The Foreign Office forecast that 1967 would be a

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‘bad year’ for CENTO, but nothing meaningful could be done to remedy this. Turkish Prime Minister Suleyman Demirel and the Shah attempted to mediate, to moderate Pakistani intransigence; even the alliance’s routine procedures could not be implemented. Pakistani diplomacy protested at the ‘embarrassment’ of CENTO during the war with India in 1965 and over Israel’s Seven Days war, exhibiting a stance ‘more uncooperative than ever’ towards their allies.91 Pakistan had taken ‘an extreme anti-Israel line’ and did not feel threatened by Russia. A Foreign and Commonwealth Office brief reported that Pakistan ‘contended that there was no direct Soviet threat … but [there] are now signs that she [Pakistan] is concerned about Soviet influence in the Indian armed forces’. The author of the brief warned that this might be another ploy, an attempt to turn CENTO against India.92 In protest, Pakistan attended as a mere observer in the consultations of the CENTO Counter-subversion Committee.93 The FCO claimed that the Russians’ policy on Pakistan would be held back because they would face complaints from Rawalpdindi about their supplying arms to India. In October 1967, Ayub visited Moscow to promote Russian-Pakistani relations. Overall, Russian foreign policy was ‘cautious and gradualist’ towards the CENTO regional partners. Most significantly, the Russian policy over arms sales to Arab regimes was restrained, aiming ‘to discourage them from starting hostilities which might possibly lead to a Soviet/United States confrontation’.94 The USSR Chairman Leonid Brezhnev raised the diplomatic stakes by proposing a collective security pact for Asia, but his proposals gained little momentum, being rejected by the Philippines, Thailand, Pakistan, India and Indonesia. In particular, the Pakistanis were more interested in their China policy.95 In 1968, the allies agreed on ‘Political Guidance to the Military Committee’; it was no easy task to persuade Pakistan that the main threat CENTO had to deal with was communism, but the assessment was not alarming. According to the official threat estimate: The Sino-Soviet bloc would almost certainly regard open attacks (by themselves or their satellites) with conventional arms across recognised state frontiers in any area of the world as involving a serious risk of war, with the danger of nuclear attack and therefore something to be avoided … the Soviet Union has striven by political means to disrupt the alliance and it will continue to do so. It will in particular play upon purely local and particularistic fears and ambitions to wean member governments from CENTO and from each other. The fact that the alliance has hitherto resisted Soviet blandishments and threats is itself

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a deterrent to any aggression, direct or indirect in the region … the Sino-Soviet bloc can be expected to exploit any differences between members of CENTO and neighbouring countries with a view to tying up forces which might otherwise be used to resist aggression.96 British diplomacy managed to present CENTO publicly as a ‘still valid’ alliance, focused ‘notably on economic cooperation’ – thus not playing up any military expectations, as well as avoiding controversy at the ministerial council.97 In truth, CENTO constituted a ‘paper tiger’, with a low deterrent value, irrelevant in a context of détente and of Sino-Russian antagonism. The British contribution to CENTO had to be kept limited, and even the planning of war games seemed a difficult affair for the uncommitted allies. CENTO’s planning assumed a global nuclear war from the outset – in contrast to NATO, which planned for initial hostilities with the Warsaw Pact at conventional level. It was suggested by regional allies that the CENTO assumption of a global nuclear war had to be altered towards NATO’s. While planning for CENTO war games was underway, the FCO warned the British representatives that if the scenario of conventional war was accepted it would increase pressure from the allies to revise the Political Guidance, and the Basic Assumptions (on global nuclear war). The allies might even ask for British conventional forces to be declared to the alliance.98 Britain’s implementation of its policy of withdrawing from East of Suez aimed mainly to offer CENTO ‘fringe activities’, like modest annual joint exercises (based only on the global war assumptions cited above), visits, seminars and military competitions. Arthur Campbell, the head of DS11 (Defence Relations with non-NATO states) at the FCO, quoted the 1963 Emergency Defence Concept to remind his staff that: The initial phase of a global war will be characterised by an exchange of atomic strikes, although these would not necessarily take place in the region … to the degree possible under their respective collective security arrangements, NATO and SEATO will secure CENTO’s flank. He remarked that ‘obviously we do not want to open the flood gates and let CENTO planning loose on the full implications of the NATO thinking [of war starting in a conventional form]’.99 The Americans sided with this reasoning. Eventually, the Sino-Russian border episodes in spring and summer 1969 downplayed further any fear of a Russian or Chinese menace to

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SEATO and CENTO. President Richard Nixon realised that he had a strategic opportunity to follow a gradual approach with China (first by relaxing commercial controls), as well as to continue détente with Russia. Britain, many American diplomats and the CIA were kept in the dark about his back channel to China, in which Pakistan and Romania would play a secret intermediary role. The new President of Pakistan, Yahya Khan, felt that his country enjoyed a special role in facilitating the new American policy towards China.100 Nixon’s policy showed that SEATO and CENTO were redundant concepts. Besides, the estimates of Chinese intentions were not alarmist; Special National Intelligence Estimate 13-69 (of 6 March 1969) reassured the President that even a failure by the Vietnamese communists to achieve their aims might require some shift in [Chinese] tactics, but the Chinese would almost certainly not launch an overt attack, nor would they be likely to open a major new front of conflict … Almost certainly Mao and his immediate successors will not expect to achieve this [political dominance in Asia] by military conquest … the principal threat from China will for many years be in the realm of subversion and revolutionary activity – mainly in Southeast Asia.101 Two years later, in December 1971, India and Pakistan clashed after a protracted crisis in East Pakistan, and the genocide committed by Pakistani forces. On 3 December, Pakistan carried out pre-emptive bombing of Indian air bases, causing an Indian counter-attack that led to the defeat of Pakistan, and eventually to the secession of East Pakistan and the creation of Bangladesh. The war ended on 16 December with the signing of an instrument of surrender by Pakistan’s Eastern Command. CENTO and SEATO were barely mentioned in the Nixon administration’s consultations. The President and Henry Kissinger, his influential National Security Advisor, aimed to balance Pakistan (which was receiving Chinese support) against Russian-backed India. Throughout December the major fear was that Pakistani forces would be destroyed completely, and that Russian would thus gain a direct advantage from the Indian victory (possibly by establishing bases in the country – an erroneous assumption). At that time the Americans’ ‘limited commitment’ to Pakistan was based on the 1959 bilateral agreement with Washington, on CENTO and on SEATO. The Americans were also committed to India’s defence under an interpretation of a 1964 Air Defence Agreement. There was also a secret pledge made by

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Kennedy to Ayub Khan as early as 1962.102 However, since CENTO and SEATO had not identified India as a threat there was no obligation to act. In addition, the US Congress had prohibited American military and economic aid to Pakistan. Kissinger, always keen to persuade China of American backing for Pakistan, confided to Chinese Ambassador Huang a secret plan: Jordan, Saudi Arabia and Iran were informed by Washington that: If they decide that their national security required shipment of American arms to Pakistan, we [the Nixon administration] are obliged to protest [in public] but we will understand. We will not protest with great intensity. And we will make up to them in next year’s budget whatever difficulties [by sending their weaponry to Pakistan] they have.103 This scheme facilitated aid but did not avert the defeat. However, Secretary of State William Rogers, in a telephone conversation with Kissinger, emphasised that Washington was under no legal obligation to help Pakistan militarily. He stated that the 1962 Kennedy-Ayub aidemémoire (shown to the Russians by Nixon) does not commit the US to go to war in the event that Pakistan is attacked by India and we should not say that. On the other hand I pointed out that the discussions we have had with Pakistan indicated we would provide assistance and that can be in whatever form we want. You can’t say [the] Aide Memoire commits US to go to war. You can’t circumvent the Constitution … Kissinger argued defensively that he was only ‘trying to maintain a minimum of credibility, which is almost impossible in the light of this niggling.’ To this the reply of Rogers was blunt: Oh, come on. There is no niggling or haggling. I have only said we have no treaty commitment to go to war in the event there is an attack on Pakistan … if we suggested we had it would be a catastrophe. None of our treaties provide that we have a commitment to take military action … we can do it [come to the assistance of Pakistan] as a matter of discretion.104 But Turgut Menemencioglu, the outgoing CENTO Secretary-General, surprised London and Washington; he deplored the British and French for abstaining from condemning India at the United Nations, rather than voting

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for a ceasefire, as the Americans had proposed. The Secretary-General was outspoken in an interview with the Iranian Kayhan International of 8 December 1971, claiming that the war against Pakistan ‘was a well-prepared plot.’ He assumed that for years India had been waiting ‘for such an opportunity’ and her plan to invade East Pakistan ‘was prepared several months in advance.’ He doubted allegations of genocide, and alleged that Indian propagandists and secret agents incited people to revolt and become refugees; as a next step, India started arming refugees and turning them against Pakistan. The analysis was wrong: he asserted vaguely that India’s victory would give advantages to Russia; as a result ‘China and the West would lose potential friends while the Indians would be able to increase their influence in Indochina on behalf of the Russians’. The Kayhan journalist posed a hard question: ‘What can CENTO do under such circumstances [of rising Indian influence]?’ Menemencioglu emphasised the question by repeating it, and continued: ‘An all-out Asian war would do no one any good and the responsibility for halting Indian aggression still lies with the UN and the Big Five.’105 His stance was a controversial one: his claims did not constitute CENTO policy, and his attack on Britain, a member of the alliance, was unjustified. Back in Washington, on 8 December 1971, in a meeting with Kissinger, Richard Helms (the CIA director) asked if there was any obligation to act under CENTO. Alexis Johnson, an Under-Secretary at the State Department, replied in the negative: there was ‘no legal obligation’ to come to the aid of Pakistan. The officials assumed that an Indian victory ‘would negate SEATO’, the alliance ‘would be down the drain’, despite the fact that India was not recognised as a threat. Kissinger seemed unwilling to use either CENTO or SEATO to back Pakistan.106 He wanted secret, backchannel arrangements for military aid to the country, avoiding an escalation which would have resulted in officially calling on these alliances to oppose India. The National Security Advisor emphasised Nixon’s wishes: We are not trying to be all that even-handed. The president has told all of you what he wants … he doesn’t want to be completely evenhanded. He is trying to get across to the Indians that they are running a major risk in their relations with the US.107 He assumed that Prime Minister Indira Gandhi was ‘a cold-blooded, tough customer. She won’t become a Soviet satellite out of a pique.’108 In midDecember 1971, the carrier USS Enterprise, together with her escorting destroyers, sailed into the Bay of Bengal to demonstrate American backing for Islamabad, and thus to warn New Delhi not to undertake further operations

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against West Pakistan. Despite Kissinger’s fear of the involvement of Russia and China in the war, Nixon appeared confident, arguing on 12 December 1971: I have always felt that India and Pakistan inevitably would have a war. And there can always be a war in the Mideast. As far as Russia and China is [sic] concerned there are other factors that are too overwhelming at this particular point for them to go at each other.109 The handling of the crisis by the White House perplexed London. Prime Minister Edward Heath and the FCO were kept in the dark on Nixon’s policy of approaching China, and were unable to understand the reasons for Washington’s pro-Pakistan stance. In a 14 December meeting between Ambassador Walter Annenberg and Sir Stanley Tomlinson, the Deputy Under-Secretary at the FCO, strong complaints were aired. Tomlinson cited the ‘marked differences’ between British and American policy over Pakistan and India, and wondered whether the two governments were proceeding on the basis of different intelligence information and political assessments. Further, the UK felt that it really did not know the basis for US thinking and the objectives we [the Americans] were pursuing. To Tomlinson ‘some aspects of US policy’ were ‘puzzling or disturbing to the UK’. He much regretted Nixon’s decision to cut off economic aid to India, especially because Washington had exerted pressure on Germany and Japan to do the same; the British would continue with their own economic aid programmes to India. Besides ‘stark reality led the UK to conclude that the independence of Bangladesh was inevitable.’ Washington had already proposed the withdrawal of Indian troops from East Pakistan, and Tomlinson asked for the rationale behind this proposal. He argued that only the Indian military could avert retributive massacres, and Prime Minister Gandhi had reassured the British as to the conduct of her troops. In any case ‘the UK assessment is that India does not have objective of territorial gains … statements by Prime Minister Gandhi and Swaran Singh could be taken at face value.’110 Meanwhile, the FCO focused on avoiding CENTO having to take a position on the crisis; the Americans had been trying to gather international support against India, and discussed the possibility of NATO issuing a statement on the war, which could be followed by a CENTO statement. Lord Cromer, Her Majesty’s Ambassador in Washington, was cautious:

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he warned the State Department that in involving CENTO in the crisis by issuing a statement the allies ‘would establish a doubtful precedent which might cause us all problems in the future, e.g. over Cyprus [on the Greek-Turkish clashes]’.111 The Americans agreed, but insisted that at least something had to be said by NATO, in a carefully-crafted communiqué. Nixon, Kissinger and Heath, with Alec Douglas-Home, the Foreign Secretary, met in Bermuda on 21 December; this was merely a post-war sharing of assessments, since the White House had handled the crisis without assistance. Nixon blamed India, complaining that for 25 years American aid programmes, totalling some $10 billion, ‘led only to our being kicked in the teeth … our dealings with India were a historic failure’; up to then the Indians had voted against American positions at the United Nations on 93 per cent of occasions. Heath and Douglas-Home reacted with pragmatic shrewdness, the latter asking rhetorically ‘whether anyone ever thanked the United States for its aid’. He did not worry about India granting the Russians any military bases, and noted that beyond humanitarian aid, London and Washington had to find ‘a way of coming to terms with India as the most powerful country in the subcontinent’. Britain did not follow the USA in condemning India at the United Nations, and had realised that Bangladesh had to be recognised (Britain itself recognised the new state on 4 February 1972). Perceptively, Douglas-Home warned Nixon (who two months later was to pay his historic visit to China), that it was ‘in the Western interest that the new Bangladesh should be basically India-oriented rather than China-oriented’.112 The British government viewed communism as a long-term threat to the West’s interests, and reminded Nixon and Kissinger of this. Pakistan, in protest at London’s recognition of Bangladesh, withdrew from the Commonwealth (and in 1973 from SEATO), though opting to stay in CENTO. J.L. Pumphrey, the British Ambassador in Pakistan and fond of metaphors, commented that: The way he [Bhutto] flounced out of the Commonwealth was offensive. But it is fair to say that he had given notice; and also that the decision – and I believe this was his intention – acted as a sort of emetic for a great many Pakistanis, ridding them of something that lay heavy on the stomach and enabling them to face the world with greater composure … our relations [with Pakistan] are now on a more realistic basis that they were before.113 But Pakistanis in general were far from offensive towards the British, despite their belief that London was biased in favour of India. At the post-

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war CENTO meetings the UK military representative commented on the Pakistani delegation: The patience, tolerance and lack of bitterness displayed by senior Pakistanis in the face of what they regard as the apparent indifference (to put it no higher) of their UK and US allies in CENTO seems to me to be little short of remarkable.114 Up to 1973 Bhutto had sounded certain about leaving CENTO, but at the ministerial council that year Douglas-Home (at least according to British perceptions) convinced him to remain in the alliance. The Foreign Secretary argued it would be unwise to weaken an alliance that had taken 20 years to build, while allies should combine their efforts against subversion. A large part in persuading Pakistan was also played by Kissinger, who at the same meeting made a number of remarks that showed American interest: ‘CENTO has assumed new importance’, ‘a strengthening of CENTO is important’, ‘CENTO solidarity [could] be clearly demonstrated’ and ‘NATO should not ignore the CENTO area.’115 (But Kissinger was only willing to offer CENTO mere rhetoric; nothing tangible.) By early 1974 the FCO had agreed to address Pakistani national-security concerns by training Pakistani officers in anti-communist counter-subversion courses in the UK– this could pay political dividends.116 Meanwhile, at the Pentagon, Assistant Secretary of Defense Warren Nutter addressed post-war realities. The new Pakistani leader, Bhutto, is brilliant and ambitious … the sole apparent charismatic leader … contradictions in his approach will complicate our relations with him. He is independently wealthy but espouses hard-line socialist aims. He has repeatedly condemned US South Asia policy publicly while showing balance and charm in his private contacts with our diplomats. India, meanwhile, has emerged as the unchallenged power on the subcontinent … [it] is not apt to become a docile or easy ally for the Soviets. India inevitably will wish to improve relations with both Washington and Beijing as a balance to the Soviet presence. As long as India, Pakistan and the newly-founded Bangladesh showed

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willingness for détente and reconciliation Washington should support them immediately with humanitarian aid. Military aid programmes for Pakistan (defence weaponry like anti-aircraft artillery) should come at a later stage.117 The FCO’s choice, however, was India rather than Pakistan: India, because of her influence, size and democratic traditions is of much greater importance to British interests and should be treated accordingly … the main factor in deciding what level of defence cooperation the UK should undertake with Pakistan is the UK recognition of the importance of India. It would be clearly unwise to give military assistance to Pakistan to the extent that the present Indian goodwill towards the UK was alienated and Russia’s position correspondingly improved … current policy [on arms sales to Pakistan] is governed largely by political factors and will only permit sales items to Pakistan which are not likely to have any seriously damaging effect on British sales to India which is much larger sales market … sales [to Pakistan] will not include any major items …118 The FCO assessment of CENTO’s strategic value was becoming more negative. James Cable of the Planning Staff was blunt: As a military alliance I think CENTO is a sham, and of no real value to us. But I have reluctantly been persuaded that our present policy, illogical and anomalous as it is, is probably the one best suited to our interests in the short term, provided that, while welcoming the Pakistani backing to CENTO, we should not mislead them into expecting any more substantial benefits than they have had in the recent past … we have long recognised that CENTO is politically and militarily a paper tiger …119 Pakistan pressed for arms purchases on credit, but London was unwilling to help. It was of vital importance that Indo-Pakistani relations should move to gradual normalisation and Britain ‘should do nothing to risk upsetting it.’120 R.M. Tesh also of the Planning Staff emphasised that the Soviet expansion in the Indian Ocean could be countered not by giving arms to Pakistan but by urging the improvement of relations of Pakistan with India. He argued that Britain and the United States should not view CENTO as ‘a military bloc’.121 B.O. White, of the FCO’s Defence Department, reminded the planners that ‘one of the attractions of CENTO over SEATO for us has been the absence of CENTO contingency planning. We have therefore not

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been obliged to make unrealistic force declarations to unrealistic military plans.’ The United Kingdom had only declared the Cyprus-based squadrons of bombers, with their nuclear weapons. White warned that, in the event of a change in CENTO’s threat assessment, London would be put under strong pressure to make detailed contingency planning modelled on that of SEATO. Until then CENTO’s military side had been ‘embryonic, but this does not much matter as the prospect of a direct Soviet attack across land frontiers is slight.’122 The assumption was aired that Pakistan would withdraw from SEATO. In theory, once an ally is considering withdrawal, the other allies might become anxious to preserve the credibility of the collective defence pact. But in this case the FCO was not alarmed. William Skilbeck, the head of its Southeast Asia Department had already written before the war (in February 1971) that the possible departure of Pakistan from SEATO would not damage the organisation, since the Pakistani contribution had been kept at a minimum level, some 8 per cent of the annual budget. Neither the alliance nor Britain ‘ought to take Pakistan’s departure too tragically. Since we objectively recognise that the anomaly lies in Pakistan’s presence in the organisation it would be hypocritical of us to try to prevent Pakistan leaving if she wants to.’123 Eventually, Pakistan did withdraw from SEATO, together with France, in 1973.

3 CENTO’s Nuclear Bombers and Cyprus

Throughout CENTO’s existence the British bases on Cyprus played a pivotal role in operational, strategic, even psychological terms; they also facilitated signals-intelligence operations unrelated to CENTO. Britain, despite the four years of anti-colonial insurgency in the late 1950s – which led to the 1960 treaty of independence establishing the Republic of Cyprus – managed to hold on to the bases, including them in the Sovereign Base Areas (SBAs). The Akrotiri base, notably, was the staging location for nuclear-armed bombers, the only nuclear force declared to CENTO. In total, Britain had declared to the alliance four Canberra nuclear-strike squadrons, a Canberra photographic-reconnaissance squadron, three to four naval escorts, four coastal minesweepers, a cruiser (if available) and a Shackleton maritimereconnaissance squadron.1 The bomber force was included in the Near East Air Force (NEAF), which coordinated targeting with the Supreme Allied Commander Europe (SACEUR). It was agreed that targets to the west of the Caspian would be hit by NATO and to the east by the Cyprus-based RAF squadrons. The CENTO allies were informed in general terms of this arrangement, but details and a list of targets (beyond those agreed upon by the allies) remained secret, ‘UK/US eyes only’.2 However, the British and American air staffs discovered that a number of targets west of the Caspian were not covered by either NATO or CENTO. A 1967 memorandum confirmed that: ‘the priority one targets all being major centres of population and priority two and three targets being less important towns and tactical objectives such as airfields and bridges’. The memorandum concluded:

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Strike operations by the NEAF Canberras are not properly coordinated with the other participating forces [of NATO]. However, the NEAF operations are unlikely to hazard the efforts made by other allied forces. Even after efficient coordination of the strike forces has been achieved there will be a continuing requirement for liaison between HQ NEAF and the other participating forces. Liaison between NATO and the CENTO-assigned RAF bombers on nuclear targeting was to be made by NEAF only, and not by CENTO.3 The Cyprus bases were also required to observe commitments apart from those to CENTO; the defence of Kuwait stood higher in priority than CENTO in the early 1960s. The SBAs had been also assigned a role in the defence of Libya, under a 1937 agreement, and war materiel for a Libya operation were held at the Dhekelia SBA.4 In June 1961 a massive British transfer of forces to Kuwait (under Operation Vantage) deterred an Iraqi invasion. The MoD understood that the four Canberra squadrons posed ‘a debatable’ deterrence since it was deemed that the ‘ultimate deterrent’ of CENTO was the American nuclear armoury. (Washington had not allocated forces to CENTO – the MoD was referring to forces allocated on a bilateral basis; see chapters on Pakistan and Iran). The squadrons could be used against only one sixth of the targets assigned by CENTO planning in the event of global war. If they carried only conventional bombs they ‘would obviously not constitute a credible military force’. There was a suggestion that the new F111s might replace the ageing Canberras by the early 1970s, but in the end Britain did not go ahead with this.5 The Akrotiri base was irreplaceable because of its facilities and because it hosted nuclear weapons. A Cabinet study concluded in 1965 that British nuclear bombers could not be based on Iranian, Turkish or Arab territory; this would both involve resolving difficult political issues and entail higher expenditure for infrastructure. The Turks had allowed the USA to operate the Incirlik base, but their government was not willing to allow British bombers based on Turkish soil for fear of provoking Russia further. The MoD examined becoming partners with the Americans and Turks in administering bases in Turkey, but again this option entailed higher political and economic costs. Iran also sought to avoid provoking the Russians, banning American and British bombers from bases in its territory; in addition, British bombers based in Iran could have further worsened British relations with the neighbouring Arab states. It was simply ‘out of the question to station in Arab territories a nuclear force for the support of CENTO’. The option of

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stationing the bombers in Britain or Germany, and using bases in Cyprus, Turkey and Iran as mere staging-points, was discounted due to the many technical difficulties. In any case, the Iranians and the Turks might take a different view during an international crisis if Britain moved bombers onto their soil for launching a nuclear attack on Russia.6 CENTO members, notably Iran and Turkey, paid a good deal of attention to British defence policy on the SBAs; Turkey, unsurprisingly, backed the Turkish Cypriots in their quarrels with the President of Cyprus, Archbishop Makarios, and promoted their policies in CENTO and NATO. The Iranians assumed that maintaining forces in Cyprus proved active British interest in CENTO, despite defence cuts and the implementation of the withdrawal from East of Suez decided upon by the Wilson government. Whitehall was considering ways of approaching the Shah to convince him of the need to decrease the number of RAF nuclear-armed bombers assigned to CENTO: London wished to cut military spending by replacing the Cyprus-based Canberras with a smaller number of V-bombers. Nonetheless, British diplomacy assumed that CENTO was a fragile alliance and even the scaling down of the nuclear forces in the island would ‘lead to the collapse of CENTO … the cost to us (in political and other terms) of having to deal with the consequences of the demise of CENTO was likely to be greater than the cost of its continued existence.’ For his part the Shah sounded nervous after the British decision to pull back from Aden by November 1967. According to the Foreign Office the monarch ‘was shaken’ by this decision but his reaction ‘was fairly slow in appearing’.7 However, the UK needed to economise: the Secretary of State for the Commonwealth insisted that one squadron of V-bombers could replace two Canberra squadrons; the introduction of the Polaris nuclear submarines in 1969 would allow cuts in the RAF’s strategic nuclear forces.8 However, the CRO would not have a free hand in the defence spending cuts. The Chiefs of Staff disagreed with it, emphasising that the same number of V-bomber squadrons should replace the Canberras – two squadrons based in Cyprus and the other two (also assigned to CENTO) in Britain.9 The MoD, in clarifying the military aspects of the case, also informed the Foreign Office that the defence of Kuwait from future Iraqi aggression required that the RAF maintain a minimum of 18 Canberras in Cyprus, at 24 hours’ notice; this was the main assignment determining the level of RAF presence in Cyprus at the time, not CENTO requirements, remarked the senior military officers.10 The Foreign and Defence Secretaries formulated an argument to be presented to the Shah, on the basis that CENTO did not face an imminent

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Soviet threat, so they could restructure their bomber force in Cyprus; they were careful, however, to avoid encouraging the Shah to make approaches to Russia in the future. It was pointed out by the MoD that: It is common ground between us and the Shah that the threat of overt Soviet aggression had receded. If we protest too much on this point, the Shah will either get suspicious of some ulterior motive and react in the opposite sense; or use this as evidence against us on some future occasion when we have cause to reason with him that he is going dangerously far in his relations with the Russians … we should speak to the Turkish government [on the reduction in the bomber force] very shortly after we have spoken to the Shah. We believe that so far as CENTO is concerned, their main preoccupation, like ours, will be with Iranian reactions. Their first question is in fact likely to be: ‘How will the Shah take it?’ But they will also of course be interested in the Cyprus aspects.11 A letter to the Shah reassured him as to British interest in keeping the nuclear-bomber force and continuing with CENTO, emphasising the new lowering of the Russian threat: The Canberras force played a very valuable role in the past by putting some teeth into CENTO and serving some other purposes, of which HIM [His Imperial Highness] approves in the Middle East. The nature of the Soviet threat, the nature of nuclear weaponry has changed since CENTO was formed. CENTO still provides a necessary trip-wire to Soviet military expansion, but it is the global nuclear deterrent that backs it, not the Canberra forces in Cyrus. We are sure that HIM is well aware that the Canberras now have little but a symbolic significance in relation to the Soviet threat.12 The Shah was informed that the MoD was looking at one squadron of V-bombers to remain in Cyprus in the 1970s, with another stationed in Britain on 24-hour readiness.13 Indeed, in preparation for the 1967 Defence Review there was intensified consultation in Whitehall on the Cyprusbased bombers. The MoD briefed other departments that the Canberras would not be replaced by F111s, and would remain in Cyprus until 1969. At that time they might be replaced by V-bombers; but planners admitted that, because of their age and performance, these aircraft would be ‘scarcely credible as a weapon against Russian defences’. ‘The prospect is that our

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military contribution to CENTO will become less and less credible and may finally disappear altogether in the early 1970s.’ The alliance was not being well-served; the Americans and the Turks as well as the British assumed that it did not require a command structure and ‘immediate military backing’, as it had in the 1950s. For the Foreign Office CENTO was an obsolete alliance, ‘untidy, and … it is remiss of us to be wearing the fashions of 1955’.14 Foreign Office officials argued that it would be preferable for the military side of the alliance to ‘wither away by tacit consent rather than on a dramatic UK motion [in defence cuts].’ This argument was sound, but the Shah wanted CENTO, and the alliance had been designed primarily to back his country. Nonetheless it was evident that: ‘The regional members are obsessed with their local problems, discontented over the lack of US and UK support in these matters and progressively less concerned about communist threats.’ Boosting the economic activities of CENTO could be an option for Britain ‘to cover the nakedness’ of the alliance.15 Sir Denis Allen, the British Ambassador in Ankara, to whom day-today CENTO consultations were assigned, concurred with the decision on the V-bombers. They were arguably more ‘impressive’ to look at than the Canberras. He assumed that the economic activities of CENTO had some value but could not replace the military side. Thus: ‘Once the military activities fall below a certain level, I am sure that the economic work would dissolve into a series of bilateral agreements (and some might flow into RCD [Regional Cooperation for Development] if RCD lives).’16 Iran valued its membership of CENTO, seeking military experience in joint-services exercises, and signalling its intention of assuming ‘an increased responsibility’ in the security of the Persian Gulf. By 1972 the British Chiefs of Staff had noticed, however, that Iran – although publicly projecting cultural ties and friendship with other CENTO members – was ‘strangely suspicious of their intentions and is noticeably reluctant to divulge national secrets to them. A practical example of this lack of trust has deadlocked progress within CENTO over the exchange of air defence information with Turkey.’17 Iran wished such an exchange only ‘during high tension or times of war although she will exchange routine information for combined exercises’.18 The RAF dispatched Canberras to north-east Iran for CENTO reconnaissance missions, but staff officers were frustrated by Iranian attitudes. The alliance lacked a command structure and ‘the Iranians’ sensitivity over national communications security, makes the tasking and employment of this force [the Canberras] rather cumbersome.’19 In addition, communications-infrastructure problems existed between Turkey and Pakistan, and the link between Ankara and the UK bases on Cyprus

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was also deemed of ‘low efficiency’, while the air-defence communications link between the Turkish base at Diyarbakir and the Iranian base in Tabriz suffered breakdowns.20 Cyprus, Malta and Gibraltar composed a constellation of post-colonial bases in the Mediterranean that could facilitate logistics and deployments for NATO, CENTO or British-only military endeavours. Cyprus was the launch pad for British forces assigned to CENTO, and Whitehall had been strongly interested in the alliance as providing some real forces to count on in the event of an emergency. On the eve of the 1967 Six Day War, British military contingency-planning required the RAF bomber squadrons based in Cyprus to participate, under US command, in a deterrent initiative in the Straits of Tiran (together with the British aircraft-carriers Hermes and Victorious and the US Sixth Fleet task force) against Nasser’s blockade.21 In 1970, the Chiefs of Staff argued the strategic value of retaining Cyprus. The SBAs and the US Sixth Fleet in the Mediterranean could ‘reduce the freedom of action of the Russian naval units and supporting reconnaissance aircraft within surveillance range off Cyprus’ in times of crisis. Thus, it was ‘important to the West and particularly to NATO that the Republic of Cyprus remains at least as much within the Western sphere of influence as she is at present’.22 The President, Archbishop Makarios, had himself been linked with the non-aligned bloc, and had upset NATO by deciding to procure Czech-made weapons. The Chiefs of Staff admitted that there was always a danger of a Turkish invasion of Cyprus, and reported that Ankara had assigned forces in South Anatolia to such a task. Therefore, Britain had to pay close attention to Greek-Turkish relations on the island.23 In addition to the signals-intelligence and reconnaissance coverage (by USAF U-2 spy planes), the Cyprus bases provided UNFICYP (the United Nations Force in Cyprus) and CENTO with logistical support, while the Americans provided the British with some vague reassurances that ‘the CENTO alliance still has a useful if limited role to play in countering Russian subversive and military ambitions’ in the Middle East. In sum, two Vulcan medium-bomber squadrons, a Lightning all-weather fighter squadron, a Hercules transport squadron and a Whirlwind helicopter-squadron were stationed on the island. It would be very difficult to relocate these forces and their training facilities to a base in a CENTO member state, since an agreement would first have to be negotiated. Besides, the UK would also have to pay the host nation for facilities. The sites in Cyprus were defended by an infantry battalion, a Bloodhound anti-aircraft missile unit and an armoured-car squadron. In fact, the Vulcans (a V-bomber variant) based at Akrotiri were the only declared nuclear force in CENTO, and the island

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played a unique part in providing CENTO with an air route for the transfer of forces east of Suez in time of war. The radar sites and the fighter squadron were considered an extension of the NATO air-defence system, while until 1971 the bomber squadrons were assigned to the defence of Kuwait.24 The Akrotiri base was deemed a military requirement, and could not be abandoned – this implied that bases in Malta, Turkey and Iran could not provide the same service to the RAF squadrons as Cyprus could, since it was assumed that these countries might, on political grounds, pose operational restrictions in time of war.25 Thus, ‘without Cyprus, CENTO air routes would have an inadequate capacity for major reinforcement East of Suez and would be much more vulnerable to political restrictions’.26 Makarios was not a problem for the operation of the bases. The Chiefs of Staff emphasised the ‘very great importance’ of the SBAs to the UK and the Western alliance, pointing out that: Since the main facilities are on Sovereign British territory President Makarios is able to avoid any direct responsibility for their use. He is unlikely to take any extreme anti-British position. Choosing rather not to notice what he cannot publicly approve ... The involvement of UK Cyprus bases in a non-NATO/CENTO conflict, for instance in a Middle East war, could possibly countenanced on a “one -off” basis, but the subsequent repercussions by the Cyprus government could well seriously inhibit UK use of the SBAs.27 The defence of the bases was incorporated in contingency planning. In April 1972, Operation Ottershaw was drafted under joint-theatre plan Near East 102. In the event of a Middle East conflict, the SBAs’ air-defence system would be reinforced by the immediate dispatch to Akrotiri of the RAF’s 48 Squadron of Tigercat surface-to-air missiles. The deployment of 25 of these weapons in Cyprus would be completed in some 47 hours.28 Vulcans and Lightings flew missions from Cyprus in the annual CENTO air-defence exercise Shahbaz ’72, and in the annual naval exercise Midlink ‘73. In 1969 the SBAs hosted Nejat, a search-and-rescue exercise, though ‘this was subsequently agreed to be unsatisfactory for … political difficulties inherent in basing Turkish aircraft at Akrotiri …’29 In 1973, the Chiefs of Staff Committee reiterated the strategic value of the Cyprus sites to CENTO and NATO. Besides, ‘Western Europe and the United States are becoming increasingly dependent on oil produced by countries in the vicinity of Cyprus.’30 Meanwhile, the Shah’s interest in the presence of Vulcans on Cyprus and in the nuclear-deterrence capability of

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CENTO continued. In a May 1974 conversation with Air Marshal Sir John Aiken, the commander-in-chief of British Forces Near East, the monarch inquired about the operational performance of the Vulcans, and admitted that ‘he saw no need for his country to embark upon a nuclear weapons programme. He believed that he needed to prepare for a level of warfare on his borders below the nuclear threshold.’ However, a week later a nuclearweapons test took place in India, and Aiken assumed that the Shah might have changed his mind.31 Indeed, the Shah started pressing the Americans to be granted technology for nuclear reactors; copious negotiations led to a draft agreement in 1978, but this was never signed or implemented, due to the domestic upheavals in Iran and the fall of its monarchy.32 The MoD argued that the nuclear bombers assigned to CENTO should be located on the island only ‘to achieve maximum efficiency and to obtain maximum effect on the regional members of the alliance’. The sites in the Troodos mountains (designated site A2), on Mount Olympus (A3) and at Cape Greco (A6) were of major value. The RAF’s support base for Olympus radars was located on Troodos, as were signals-intelligence stations manned by the 9th Signals Regiment, ‘whose role is essential to the British defence interests.’ The US intelligence bases were not included within the SBAs but sited on sovereign Cypriot territory; these included a base near Nicosia, though this was due to close in 1974.33 It was clear that even ‘re-provision [of signals systems] within the SBAs would result in an unacceptable diminution of their operational effectiveness’. Air-defence radars linked to Troodos were operated on Mount Olympus, the highest point in Cyprus. In addition, the communications systems assigned to the joint air-traffic control centre at Nicosia and the radio relays for internal-security networks were deemed of primary importance. At Cape Greco a NATO Ace hightroposphere scatter station serving NEAF (Near East Air Force), 6th ATAF (Allied Tactical Air Force), AFSOUTH (Allied Forces South Europe) and the COMARAIRMED (Commander Maritime Air Forces Mediterranean) was built; it was considered ‘of direct strategic importance to the UK as a member of NATO and is also essential to the air defence of the SBAs’. Site A9 at the port of Famagusta was the ‘most important logistic facility’ for the support of British forces. Finally, defence policy took into consideration the value of training sites outside the SBAs, areas of the Republic of Cyprus assigned for UK military training. Staff officers admitted that they had to continue making use of these areas since elsewhere in Europe, for example in Germany, the national army wanted to make use of the land for its own training, asking the British Army of the Rhine and the RAF to go elsewhere for theirs.34

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The role of the SBAs in US signals-imagery intelligence would contribute to something of a debacle between London and Washington, causing friction in their ‘special relationship’ in a time of conflict. During the October 1973 Yom Kippur War, Washington requested that USAF SR-71 spy flights based in Cyprus be allowed to fly over the Sinai, and that the British should help in supplying Israel with urgently-needed military hardware, under Operation Nickel Grass. Both requests were declined by the FCO, showing the UK’s determination not to follow a pro-Israel policy that could damage relations with the Arabs. The Cypriot government also declared that it would not allow reconnaissance missions over the Middle East. Eventually, on 13 October 1973, two SR-71s based in Iran covered the urgent intelligence requirements by flying over the Sinai. Britain also refused to provide a RAF reconnaissance flight from Mesirah, Oman, to support a US Navy group that (according to Secretary James Schlesinger) was about to make a show of force in the Gulf states that had joined the oil embargo partially crippling Western economies. By late November 1973, London had concluded that despite US sabre-rattling no operation to take the Gulf oilfields was imminent (eventually no such show of force took place).35 Nonetheless, Anglo-American signals intelligence needed to avoid internecine quarrels – the Soviet navy had deployed an immense number of assets by the end of the war in the Mediterranean: 95 warships and support vessels were valuable intelligence-gathering targets, bringing to Egypt and Syria a total of 63,000 tons of war materiel (in addition to 12,500 tons by air).36 Under the 1974 Defence Review, the FCO and MoD were assessing ways to decrease spending for non-NATO purposes, and examined the withdrawal of forces from Cyprus. At that time, an infantry battalion, an armoured reconnaissance squadron, 12 Lightings, 16 Vulcans, nine Hercules and a squadron of Bloodhound surface-to-air missiles were stationed there; in addition, two Vulcans, eight Canberras and three Nimrods based in Malta were assigned to CENTO. The MoD was seeking to maintain a military presence in Hong Kong, Cyprus and Gibraltar for the near future. It was calculated that a total withdrawal from Cyprus could save up to £38 million from 1976 onwards, but that ‘this would be extremely damaging particularly in our relations with the Shah and to a lesser extent with the Americans’. Tehran praised the UK contribution to CENTO – the UK was the only power that had declared forces in the alliance. Besides, an exit from Cyprus could detonate a Greek-Turkish clash over the future ownership of the SBA territories. The partial reduction option, employing Akrotiri as a forward base for the Vulcans (to be stationed elsewhere), could save up to

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£26 million. Again, ‘there would still be a risk with the Shah,’ remarked J.F. Mayne, Assistant Secretary at the MoD.37 London was always keen to listen to Iran’s concerns, but a decision had to be made: either NATO or CENTO should be the policy priority for defence spending. Foreign Secretary James Callaghan agreed that a complete retreat from the SBAs (in addition to the diminution of intelligence capabilities) would cause fighting between the Greeks and Turks over who would control the bases on the island. In June 1974 (one month prior to Turkey’s invasion of northern Cyprus), the head of the Turkish delegation in CENTO, MajorGeneral Saltik, asked to be informed of the British policy on the SBAs under the Defence Review; but rumours that the Dhekelia base was to be handed over were false – London had no such plans.38 Nonetheless, one MoD note to other government departments claimed that, in the event of a British withdrawal, SBAs should be handed over to the Nicosia government, because one of the signatories to the treaty establishing the SBAs was the Republic of Cyprus.39 Britain could also cut some costs by negotiating a reduction of her contribution to UNFICYP, making it no more than a token force; it was NATO that remained the ‘lynchpin’ of British defence policy.40 Clearly, ‘the UK’s resources do not permit an independent defence against the present and growing Soviet threat. The security of the nation is increasingly bound with that of the North Atlantic Alliance.’41 It should also be pointed out that until then no actual military contingency-planning existed for the UK forces on Cyprus to help defend NATO’s south-eastern flank in time of war.42 The Shah had to understand that Britain could not be the only power assigning forces to CENTO. The Turkish invasion of Cyprus in July 1974 did not cause any serious problem in relations among the regional member states of CENTO. British diplomacy assumed that the alliance ‘was not involved in the conflict, but Pakistan and Iran were helpful [towards Turkey] and may well offer further moral and material support in any future Turkish quarrel with Greece’.43 In Whitehall, the discussions on scaling down military commitments in Cyprus continued. The option of concentrating troops and the operations in only one SBA was thought unsuitable, on political and economic grounds; expenditure on equipment transfer and on the building of new quarters would increase. In addition, tension between the communities would be provoked over the new ownership of the base areas Britain relinquished.44 Furthermore, Washington did not take kindly to suggestions of withdrawal; indeed, the FCO was afraid of a hostile reaction that ‘could be on such a scale as to alter American readiness to share their intelligence product with

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us’.45 The UK-US special intelligence-relationship could suffer greatly due to their differences of opinion on the Cyprus bases. In addition to signals-intelligence operations against Russia and the Middle East, USAF U-2 spy planes stationed at Akrotiri undertook the monitoring of the ceasefire after the 1973 Yom Kippur war.46 Henry Kissinger, the US Secretary of State (who had not forgotten the British stance during the Yom Kippur war), and later Defense Secretary James Schlesinger, insisted on Britain’s retaining the SBAs. It was disclosed that during the Defence Review that Dr. Kissinger reacted strongly to Ministers’ initial conclusion that we should withdraw our forces from Cyprus, if possible presenting this withdrawal in the context of a satisfactory settlement of the Cyprus problem [following the 1974 Turkish invasion]. The US Government, after being told in confidence of our proposals sent a team of officials to London to explain their concern, which arose mainly from the stabilising effect they believed a British presence exercised in the Eastern Mediterranean. Ministers therefore adopted a modified conclusion that our presence should be reduced and complete withdrawal postponed until circumstances permitted.47 Sir Peter Ramsbotham, the UK Ambassador in Washington, commented that Washington wanted Britain to be ‘in some sense a global partner’; the Americans agreed to some reductions, on cost grounds, but not with withdrawal from Cyprus.48 Kissinger impressed on the British the new strategic importance of CENTO, following the Yom Kippur war, although he did not aim to proceed with the allies in drafting a CENTO charter (making explicit the commitments among the member states). He argued that the US did not now enjoy nuclear superiority in the defence of the CENTO area, and the re-opening of the Suez canal would provide the Russians with valuable opportunities to increase their influence. In addition, the Soviet navy had showed its intention of deploying near CENTO waters. The US base on Diego Garcia granted by the British had become a key station in the new strategy for the defence of CENTO. For their part, ‘the regional members should search for a greater cohesion so that CENTO’s solidarity could be clearly demonstrated.’49 However, the UK did not share Kissinger’s superficial enthusiasm for CENTO; Sir Horace Phillips, the British Ambassador in Ankara, commented that: ‘The current [British] policy seems to be one of dragging our feet while trying to make the regional members (Turkey, Iran and Pakistan) believe that we are not.’50

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Eventually, the MoD withdrew the RAF bombers from Akrotiri. The base continued to play an important role in British strategy in the Middle East, but defence spending-cuts made it impossible to station aircraft there permanently, and necessitated the reduction of the British force in Cyprus to 3,600 troops by 1976. The only unit assigned to remain there was 84 Helicopter Squadron, employed for transport and search-and-rescue missions but also providing support for the UN forces on the island.51 The Hercules, Vulcans and Lightings returned to Britain and were replaced ‘with smaller roulement detachments of aircraft from the UK’, while the Akrotiri base would operate on a restricted-hours basis to save more money.52 Britain was struggling with her NATO commitments, and could not be the only one to invest in the capabilities of CENTO, when the other members had been unwilling to participate in a joint effort. In the long run, the MoD under the 1974 Defence Review planned to spend £15 million annually by 1983–84 on the Cyprus bases (instead of the then total of £42 million). Surprisingly, the Review’s target-spending on CENTO (which had reached more that £30 million in 1974) would be reduced to zero by 1983–84.53 The FCO proposed that ‘because of its importance to Iran we should maintain our CENTO commitment, but we should withdraw our declaration of forces to CENTO’.54 Under the 1974 Defence Review – through the scaling-down of the British presence on Cyprus and the total withdrawal of the RAF from Malta by 1979 – the MoD aimed effectively to cut spending for CENTO purposes, and to avoid permanently declaring forces to the alliance; the total economic support to CENTO then would remain at just over £7 million.55 The restructuring of RAF commands ended up downgrading Cyprus headquarters to group status, reporting to Strike Command.56 British diplomatic missions in Ankara, Islamabad and Tehran were duly instructed by Callaghan to defend the new policy, arguing the Russian threat was now low: Defensively you may point out that the CENTO allies recently agreed that the main threat to the CENTO area stems from Soviet subversion rather than direct military intervention. Consequently the military significance of the British aircraft which are the only forces declared to CENTO has declined; the Alliance should not therefore be affected appreciably by their withdrawal.57 The RAF contributed only six Canberras to CENTO’s Exercise Shahbaz ‘76. The Vice-Chief of the Defence Staff made it explicit to CENTO allies that after Britain’s withdrawal from Malta it would no longer declare forces

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to the alliance. Further, the RAF cancelled its attendance at Shahbaz ’77 on security grounds ­– the squadron and support personnel concerned would have to deploy to Pakistan, where the internal security situation was deemed precarious.58 British participation in the Shahbaz and Midlink exercises were to be put in the ‘lowest priority category’ after the withdrawal from Malta.59 Because of further defence cuts, the RAF had to continue supporting the CENTO Technical Evaluation and Assistance team from Britain, rather than (as earlier) from Cyprus.60 However, Air Marshal Sir Alfred Ball pressed for an increase in RAF participation in CENTO activities, arguing the political merits of the case. Thus, ‘unless we make a considerably more tangible military contribution than merely attending “talk-ins”, our allies will wish to be shot of us’.61 The reply of Air Chief Marshal Sir Neil Cameron, Chief of the Air Staff, was pragmatic enough, stressing that ‘however great the benefits in terms of image the flying experience these [the CENTO activities] are less tangible than hard cash.’62 In January 1977, he reiterated that the RAF contribution would diminish after the withdrawal from Malta, and no participation in exercises was envisioned for the 1980s. Cyprus remained the staging outpost for temporary air deployments, but ‘any subsequent withdrawal from the island would remove even this possibility,’ he remarked pessimistically.63 In his turn, Air Chief Marshal Sir Peter Le Cheminant, of Headquarters Allied Force Europe, believed that ‘following our withdrawal from the Mediterranean it is perhaps unlikely that the UK would be prepared to commit forces to CENTO in any emergency.’64 .

4 SEATO: Planning and Divisions

Communist insurgency and subversion in Indochina was on the agenda of SEATO consultations almost from the start. A list of contingencies in the light of potential Chinese and North Vietnamese aggression with conventional forces, and of the spread of communist insurgency in Laos and Cambodia, was drawn up after intensive negotiations. Nonetheless, Britain remained a cautious ally, hesitant to commit forces and to acquiesce in American proposals that could provoke a harsh Chinese response. Macmillan, and later Harold Wilson, sought to continue with the 1954 Geneva declaration: this required non-interference in Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam. Close examination of SEATO’s plans and threat assessments reveals that the alliance’s response to a communist insurgency in Laos was a difficult task in both political and military terms. Britain steadily disagreed with American policy, but the ‘special relationship’ remained undamaged; the alliance was divided between the careful policy of London, and Washington’s approach of fighting back at communism, so that the ‘dominos’ of Vietnam or Laos would not fall. Eventually, SEATO was turned into a forum of disagreement, while fears of Chinese or North Vietnamese aggression receded in the minds of British military officers and diplomats. In any case, the drafting of war plans was never a smooth process – defining the authority of SEATO commanders in the face of political guidance remained a contentious issue. The MoD and the Foreign Office were anxious to avoid American tactical adventurism in the event of a general war; SEATO commanders had to receive clear political guidance in advance, and this had to be negotiated with the allies. Memories of the controversial behaviour of General Douglas

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MacArthur during the Korean war prevailed in Whitehall; the Pentagon, on the other hand, wished to avoid altogether any political guidance for American commanders. Annual SEATO military exercises were held from 1956 onwards, and by 1964 a total of 27 combined exercises had been organised. Exercise Air Boon Choo simulated a counter-attack in the event of an invasion of Thailand; in 1964 Britain, Australia, New Zealand, Thailand and the USA contributed aircraft and a total of 5,000 troops. Exercise Ligtas focused on joint (air-sea-land) amphibious operations on the Philippine island of Mindoro; 20,000 troops and 75 ships participated. Smaller-scale military training-programmes were held at bilateral level, and the French military also contributed modestly. The Royal Engineers were assigned the construction of the Mukdahan military-transport airfield in Thailand, scheduled to be completed by spring 1965.1 In parallel, the Committee of Security Experts (CSE) was a biannual forum for representatives of the allies’ security and intelligence agencies to exchange views and to draft schemes for counter-subversion in Southeast Asia (notably in Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia, Indonesia, Malaya, Singapore, Thailand, Pakistan and the Philippines). By the mid-1960s Thailand had taken a secretive stance, inhibiting smooth consultation by preferring to cooperate at bilateral level with the CIA in relevant programmes.2 The Office of Counter Subversion and the Research Services Office (all staffed by intelligence officers from the SEATO members) worked together with the CSE in the production of studies. In 1963 the CSE was renamed ‘Intelligence Assessments Committee’, covering more military-related subjects. At the CSE meetings representatives of the CIA, MI5, SIS, ASIO (Australian Security Intelligence Organisation), together with Pakistani, Thai and Philippine intelligence agencies, debated their assessments of communist subversion, reaching conclusions to be forwarded to the Military Planning Office (MPO) and the SEATO council of ministers. The committee recommended counter-measures and propaganda, socio-economic and cultural civic-action schemes to counter communist propaganda in Asian communities and cities (from schools and the press to factories and rural areas.)3 In addition, the consultations of the CSE members facilitated training schemes on security and intelligence for the regional intelligence and police services.4 Nonetheless, there was a notable imbalance between the Western intelligence agencies (which had access to more sources) and the Asian agencies, which lacked sources, experience and resources, and were constrained by local politics. As early as April 1956 it was noted in a report by the Australian representative that the estimates from Asian members

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‘are distorted either because the Asian intelligence and security agencies are not as efficient as those of the Commonwealth and the United States, or because for political reasons they are consciously or unconsciously falsified’.5 Differences in analysis were also apparent in Anglo-American attitudes: US intelligence believed that communism was the driving threat in Southeast Asia, while British intelligence insisted that nationalism was the main motive of local insurgencies in Laos and Vietnam. On 12 March 1960, the Australian Embassy in Bangkok reported that the Americans supported the (false) estimate that the crisis in Laos was prompted by outside communists and not by ‘spontaneous’ reaction, as the British had argued.6 Arguments on the nature of the Diem regime in South Vietnam were also aired. The Americans were in favour of it, while the French emphasised its ‘corruption and excesses’.7 In a November 1960 report the Australian representative judged that his American counterpart was somewhat isolated from the other representatives due to his ‘overconfident’ view on South Vietnam.8 In their turn the Pakistani intelligence officers would be keen to speak on the threat of India, contrary to the terms of reference of CSE and later (working towards an improvement of their relations with Beijing) discounted the Chinese threat, and did not agree to the term ‘attack’ being used of China in CSE studies, insisting on the phrase ‘aggravation of the Sino-India border dispute’.9 The CSE worked on public information and cultural schemes with mixed results, with some Americans seeking to convince the other members that civic development projects and good local government – together with the ending of corruption – would be of value to the anti-subversion effort.1010 Chinese cultural propaganda in Borneo, Malay and Singapore, in particular, was deemed a medium-term threat. But the overall assessment of CSE compiled by American, Thai and British representatives assumed too easily that the spreading of propaganda through Chinese books and cultural events could be turned into fertile ground for organised insurgencies.11 The French disagreed with the American approach on civic action, arguing that in South Vietnam, after the 1954 Geneva settlement, ‘arbitrary arrests, extortion by rural government officials and operational units in the field, delays and errors in the agrarian reforms and favouritism’ killed the people’s wish to side with the government. Besides, argued the French, the communists were better disposed towards civic action, and took advantage of the local population’s grievances. Nonetheless, the rest of the allied intelligence officers seemed to side with the American approach. The Australian representative at the CSE meeting went a step further (in accordance with Australia’s then eagerly proAmerican stance), characterising the US paper on civic action under the

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title ‘Effectiveness of Civic Action Programmes in Reducing the Threat of Communist Subversion’ (11 October 1960) ‘one of the more useful works produced in the committee’.12 On the military side, SEATO planners had drafted a number of contingency plans for the defence of Southeast Asia. The majority of these were simply theoretical exercises, since the member states – and especially Britain – saw little likelihood of their being implemented. Plan 2, developed by the Military Planning Office (MPO) (the latest version, Plan 2/B/59, was put forward in 1960) entailed the defence of Southeast Asia against North Vietnamese aggression and Chinese intervention; Plan 2, coupled with Plan 4 (latest version Plan 4/60), addressed the defence of Pakistan, the Philippines and the SEATO Southeast Asia defence area against both North Vietnamese and Chinese aggression. In such a case a major SEATO force would be dispatched, composed of approximately 25 brigade groups to be deployed on Thailand’s borders and the Protocol states. In 1960, British planners commented: ‘The threat [of Chinese and North Vietnamese aggression] is not considered likely and, since it is improbable that SEATO could either produce or maintain forces on the scale required, this plan is quite unrealistic.’ Plan 3 covered general contingencies in the event of North Vietnamese aggression in South Vietnam; Britain blocked any further elaboration, since it was deemed that any plan for the defence of South Vietnam should examine the possibility of Chinese intervention. Further development of Plan 6 was also put on hold due to the absence of a Chinese threat – the SEATO intelligence assessment stated that: ‘A Chinese intervention is no longer regarded as inevitable, [and] a plan should be developed for the defence of the Protocol States against North Vietnamese aggression only.’13 By mid-1960, SEATO members were discussing the situation in Laos and the possibility of a communist take-over there. The vigorous debate amongst the Americans and the divided Commonwealth countries showed the Asians that there was no consensus. The Americans and the Australians sought a rapid completion of Plan 5, in readiness for an allied decision to intervene in Laos. The French took a distant approach, seeking to avoid any military commitment; they did not wish the development of the plan to proceed unless there was an emergency in Laos. The New Zealanders did not wish to commit to anything, and soon the British, protecting their own perceived interests, sided with them.14 British diplomacy sought to convince the allies that no intervention was required for the time being. In any event, the decision to intervene ‘must [lie] solely with the individual member governments, who will take this decision in the light of the circumstances at the time [of the

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intervention]’.15 The phrasing showed that SEATO was not (in the British view) a coherent organisation ready to take action. This was a tactic to slow down any American aspirations towards resolving matters in Laos as quickly and decisively as possible. A contingency plan which attracted much debate was Plan 5, encompassing the deployment of a limited SEATO force in Laos, and then only at the invitation of the Laotian government. It was deemed the ‘only realistic’ plan for the alliance. The force would have a static counterinsurgency mission, occupying Vientiane (the capital) and Luang Prabang, and holding communication centers along the Mekong river, but would not undertake any pursuit of the communist forces. The force field-commander would be an American officer, accompanied by a political adviser (possibly Australian.) Other vacancies to be filled were the SEATO force commander (the British proposed a Thai officer, for token political reasons), the deputy force commander (an American), and the commanders of naval, air and ground components (possibly all would come from the Commonwealth). The force would be composed of one American/Thai brigade and one Commonwealth, the latter comprising one battalion each from Britain, Australia and New Zealand. The American/Thai brigade would deploy in northern Laos, and the Commonwealth one in the central and southern areas. The Commonwealth, American and Thai military would provide the necessary fighter and transport aircraft. On paper, Pakistan offered an infantry brigade, on the condition of this unit being transported to the area of operations, but ‘there are no signs of this being possible and their [Pakistan’s] troops have not therefore [been] allotted an operational role’. The Philippines ‘have offered small force contribution without commitment’.16 The Laos endeavour would be a white man’s initiative. Washington urged that contingency planning be stepped up, but the British set a number of conditions to restrain American eagerness to intervene militarily in Laos (at that time the US intervention was confined to the involvement only of the intelligence services in covert operations). The three key conditions the other SEATO members were asked to agree upon were, first, that no formal decisions should be made on command appointments; second, that the circumstances of intervention should not conflict with British obligations under the 1954 Geneva declaration; and third, that ‘the military commander should receive political direction from SEATO council so as to ensure the correct interpretation of the political objectives of the Plan’. The plan had to abide by the definition of aggression proposed by Britain: For the purposes of this Plan, communist insurgency is defined as ‘armed action against the established government of a country by

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organised bands or groups under conditions which do not permit such action to be identified as overt and direct external aggression, but subject to such degree of foreign control, direction or support as to amount to indirect external aggression. The British introduced a sophisticated framework to govern the actions of the SEATO force commander, who had to receive political guidance and refer for fresh advice to the Council of Representatives in Bangkok; the force commander would consult his political adviser, who would provide his liaison with Bangkok. The representatives ‘should be kept informed of, and have opportunity to comment on, all contemplated actions or possible political significance’. The Americans were of course unhappy at this arrangement, but eventually, after long negotiations, the other allies accepted the three British conditions.17 Progress in drafting Plan 5 was not inhibited, but the examination of logistical requirements brought new issues to the fore. The plan listed a number of administrative, financial and legal requirements which Laos and Thailand would have to abide by, all of political significance. The subjects covered ranged from agreements on the status of forces to financial questions.18 Britain ‘opposed any approach to the government of Laos in advance of operations’.19 It was essential for Plan 5 not to become a self-fulfilling prophecy, and its very existence not to escalate developments in Laos. Nothing had yet been decided: it remained merely a paper exercise in the absence of any British commitment. Plan 5 established a framework of static counter-insurgency run by committee, which an American commander would always have accused of inefficiency (if the SEATO intervention in Laos had ever materialised). Meanwhile, Walter Nash, the New Zealand Prime Minister, was intransigent: he feared that his country (undergoing a severe financial crisis) would be dragged unwittingly into war in Laos. British diplomats assumed that Nash’s apprehension stemmed from his belief that: If the knowledge [that] such decision [on developing Plan 5 any further] had been taken, came to the ears of the Royal Laotian Government it would harden their attitude (possibly with American support); make them more anxious to secure armed intervention on insufficient grounds. Nash disagreed with any initiative to set up SEATO command-structure arrangements, but the British convinced him that planning should continue ‘on

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the basis of [merely] proposals (on appointments)’. Nash was accused by the Australian minister in Washington, Malcolm Booker, of being a two-faced leader, who though siding with SEATO was inspired by the same neutralist ideology as Nehru. The British argued that Nash feared being obliged under Plan 5 to support the Americans in backing the ‘undemocratic’ government of Laos.20 The Americans were ‘extremely irritated’ with the New Zealand Prime Minister, blaming him for his obstructive stance. The State Department dismissed Nash as a politician who ‘likes to create difficulties so that he can demonstrate to all concerned their own inability to solve them and the ease with which he himself solves them as soon as he steps in’.21 The British and Americans tried to convince Nash that planning did not in any way amount to a New Zealand commitment in a future intervention. There was ‘no legal or moral commitment to intervene,’ remarked F.A. Warner, the head of the Southeast Asia department at the Foreign Office.22 The Pentagon grew assertive towards the British conditions for the plans. Lew Gleeck, the Pentagon’s special assistant for SEATO affairs to the Secretary of Defense, voiced his department’s concern, claiming that what the British proposed amounted to ‘a civilian addition to the general staff [of SEATO]’; the Council of Representatives in Bangkok ‘should not be given the luxury of day to day handling liaising with the field commander’, since they were all characterised by a ‘lack of military qualifications’ for advising a field commander during the rapidly changing circumstances of a campaign. A.J. de la Mare, the British Counselor in Washington, who held talks with Gleeck, stated that: The Pentagon objected basically to political control by civilian governments, and wanted either to receive [such control] only from the United States or to retain it in their hands … [what] the Pentagon seem to be saying is that they want a free hand not only in the military field but in the political also. I should have thought that the State Department, who must remember the trouble caused by General MacArthur during the Korean campaign over precisely this issue, would want to ensure that the same thing did not happen again.23 Alexis Johnson, the American Ambassador in Bangkok, sided firmly with the approach of giving less political guidance to the field commander. In a conversation with Warner, he unconvincingly argued that guidance would ‘tie down the fighting commander’.24 A quarrel erupted, with both the Pentagon and Johnson seeking to avoid political guidelines for the field commander. The British wanted

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to make it explicit that all such guidance would be communicated to the field commander during operations, with the Foreign Office warning that if he ‘has discretion to interpret directives or only pass on such portions as he thinks fit, the whole principle of SEATO political guidance will be undermined’.25 It was a sound argument. British policy was to avoid provoking the Asian nations by reining in any SEATO bellicosity. There had to be an effort to ‘exercise a sensible amount of caution in parading its [SEATO’s] military deterrents [in the form of deployments]’. It was essential for the alliance to enjoy the support of the United Nations and of world opinion, as a power for good. De la Mare told Gleeck that there was no plan for the Council of Representatives in Bangkok to control the field commander. Warner – who received the Counselor’s dispatches – emphasised his understanding that the field commander will have to take most of his own decisions … the Commander will have to take quick and difficult decisions, and when he requires political advice before doing so he will obviously refer to his own government and not to the Council of Representatives. But what we insist on is that the operation should start off on the right foot with all commanders aware of why they are being sent into Laos and exactly what are our aims and objectives in the situation prevailing at the time.26 It was a pragmatic approach; indeed, the British Chiefs of Staff recommended that under Plan 5 SEATO forces should not provoke neighbouring nations, keeping as low a profile as possible. Thus, ‘strike aircraft should not be positioned in Laos initially unless it is operationally essential.’ Seven days were needed for the necessary preparation of the Commonwealth brigade, and its deployment in Laos would be completed after a further eight days. The British military representative in SEATO was authorised to approve Plan 5, but this did not entail any British commitment to act.27 In his attempt to interpret American policy, de la Mare argued that Washington was concerned at the possibility of the British proceeding with an agreement with North Vietnam over Laos. He believed that the Americans had grown assertive, essentially due to our general views on a Laotian settlement … The SEATO aspect I consider secondary, because we may not after all be required to put Plan 5c into effect, and if we are [required to put Plan 5c into effect] many of its present problems will solve themselves under the stress of the emergency.28

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The New Zealand government, meanwhile, insisted that any intervention in Laos had to be approved by the United Nations, while the Philippines wanted to avoid any military endeavour whatsoever, and began to question the British definition of ‘insurgency’, arguing that SEATO’s Committee of Security Experts had employed a different one.29 All members had previously accepted the British definition, to facilitate the planning process, but each party had its own policy – the effect was to make SEATO a mere forum rather than a coherent alliance. By August 1960, the negotiations on political guidance for the SEATO field commander were continuing. The Philippine delegate showed ‘indifference’ in approving the draft plan, while the Thais delayed due to the absence from Bangkok of key government figures. The new definition of insurgency was approved by all except the Pakistanis and the Philippines, who allowed it to be used merely for the convenience of the working procedures. The Pakistani representative claimed that no full discussion on the definition had been reported to the Pakistani defence ministry. C.B. Chalmers, of the British Embassy in Bangkok, rather angrily remarked that: ‘This [Pakistani stance] is evidently a case of the Pakistani [SEATO] Council Representatives either failing to report the discussion on the subject which took place in Council Representatives’ restricted session or possibly not entirely understanding what is going on.’ In their turn, the Philippines argued that the new definition was not identical with the one agreed upon earlier in the Committee of Security Experts, and feared that the acceptance of the new definition would create a precedent for the alliance to employ different definitions for different situations and purposes.30 The debate continued, with the British raising a number of important issues on Plan 6 and Plan 4. In the initial version of Plan 6 there was a controversial statement on operations: ‘SEATO forces will use nuclear weapons on suitable enemy targets according to the general situation. This does not imply the automatic use of nuclear weapons in all situations.’ The British pointed out that this statement had been transferred from Plan 4, where it had been approved by the Chiefs of Staff – but the major difference between Plans 4 and 6 was the assumption in the former of Chinese involvement. Thus the decision to employ nuclear weapons had to rest with the politicians if and when China intervened; at such a juncture, there had to be agreement among the allies to use these weapons. Another subject that had to be examined thoroughly was the plan for a counter-offensive against the North Vietnamese, which required a major amphibious operation in the North, Inchon-style. The main objectives were set as the destruction of communist capabilities and the ‘forestalling’ of Chinese involvement. London worried that if this plan was ever implemented it would increase

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the chances of provoking China, leading its rulers to believe that SEATO posed a direct threat to their country. The British recommended that the scope of this landing be restrained, with a geographical limit of about latitude 20° north, and be focused on damaging only the North Vietnamese military. Finally, Britain could not examine proposals for SEATO counterinsurgency in South Vietnam under an expanded Plan 6 – thus siding with the Americans, Australians and South Vietnamese – the reason being that the Cabinet had approved plans by the Chiefs of Staff only for an intervention in Laos.31 There was no chance that it would authorise planning for deployment in Vietnam. The Thais brought strong pressure to bear on the alliance for the details of logistics in Plan 5 to be agreed upon. British diplomats held discussions with their Australian counterparts to deal with the Thai requests, without urging intervention in Laos. Subtle tactics were employed: logistics contingencies under Plan 5 would be drafted ‘and then be quietly put away so far as SEATO was concerned, although national planning would doubtless continue’. It was argued that ‘the more SEATO continued to discuss this Plan, the more regional members tended to become either committed, or to infect Asian members with doubt about Western sincerity.’ A solution to calm down the Thais entailed changing the substance of the consultations from Plan 5 to Plan 6: If SEATO were to begin work on Plan 6 this might be useful as a diversion from Plan 5 … we should be starting a new phase of operational planning in SEATO against a threat which was a good deal less imminent than the communist insurgency threat. However, Plan 6 entailed, as a contingency, the use of nuclear weapons, a subject which led to further discussion – and to much controversy, since in 1960 no Asian nation possessed any such weapons. A leak from the consultations to the press ‘would cause revulsion of popular opinion against the organisation, and present the communists with a strong propaganda card’.32 Back at the Foreign Office, the legal department examined to what extent Britain was bound to act in the event the SEATO allies collectively called for intervention in Laos. The legal study remained highly classified (‘for UK eyes only’); it essentially agreed with the strategy for Britain not to intervene in Indochina. It was argued that: If the precondition [aggression by means of armed attack in the Treaty area] is satisfied, each Party must certainly take action in accordance

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with its constitutional processes; it is free to act individually, and can, if it so acts, properly claim to be acting in accordance with its obligation under the Treaty. There is, in other words, nothing in the paragraph [paragraph 2 of the Treaty’s article 4] which requires either that one Party must act in the same way as others or that it must obtain the agreement of the others before taking a course of action decided on by itself.33 Britain was not bound to act under the auspices of SEATO because The Treaty could not of itself justify any course of action which ran counter to other international obligations of the countries concerned – for example, obligations under the United Nations Charter or the Geneva Settlement [of 1954], to take the two most obvious cases.34 Meanwhile, the warring parties in Laos multiplied. The rightist General Phoumi Nosavan received material and financial support from Thailand (his uncle was the Thai dictator Marshal Sarit). A young officer, Kong Le, then executed a successful coup in August 1960, compelling Phoumi to flee to Thailand, and thereafter setting a neutralist agenda for Laos. In London, David Ormsby Gore, Minister of State in the FCO, considered that neutrality for Laos was the best outcome for British interests, rather than an American-backed authoritarian regime ‘which through its stupidity [could get] us involved in a new Indo/China war. I have always feared that American policy might lead us into just such a mess …’35 Foreign Secretary Selwyn Lloyd also seemed to favour a neutral Laos. In 1960 he remarked that: A genuinely neutral Laos is the best defence for Western interests in Southeast Asia. There is some reason to believe that the Chinese and North Vietnamese would have been content with this position … willing to accept the position without wishing to undermine it by insurrection.36 A neutral Laos also meant that there was no necessity for SEATO to intervene, at least in the near future. In October 1960 Prince Souvanna, the head of the Laotian government, blamed American policy for his eventually having to accept the participation of the Pathet Lao (the communist movement) in a coalition government, after the defection to the rightists of General Ouane. A mutiny by Phoumi,

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backed by Washington, led to the fall of Souvanna, who fled to Cambodia. Phoumi was appointed Deputy Prime Minister under Prince Boun Oum, and the Philippines suggested a SEATO intervention to back him, in the event he requested the aid of the alliance. There was now a full-scale civil war, which was to last until the ceasefire of 3 May 1961. At the November 1960 SEATO Military Advisers’ conference the Thais kept up the pressure, demanding that the alliance should develop plans to intervene in Laos without being invited to do so by the Laotian government; the Americans and the Philippines supported them eagerly. Controversially, the conference (despite the opposition of the British representative) decided that the Military Planning Office should draft a study of the military implications of such an intervention. F.A. Warner, the head of the Southeast Asia department at the Foreign Office, was shocked – the Thai proposal contravened the Manila Treaty (specifically paragraph 3 of article 4). Any SEATO intervention in Laos without invitation would be ‘quite indefensible legally or politically’. He pointed the finger at the Military Advisers Committee, stating: ‘It is most disturbing that the Military Advisers should have thought themselves free to reach conclusions directly opposed to the intentions of the Treaty, without seeking political guidance.’ He continued by remarking Macmillan’s anxiety: ‘The Prime Minister had always been most concerned lest military planning, even without commitment, should lead us into what is almost a moral obligation to implement one day the planning in question.’37 Fortunately for the British position, Australia and New Zealand also agreed to block the drafting of contingencies that contravened the Treaty.38 Further details emerged of the Military Advisers’ conference which had taken the contentious decision. The American representative (Admiral Harry Felt, Commander-in-Chief, Pacific) ‘sometimes appeared to be under-briefed on facts, despite the phalanx of senior officers behind him’. Backing the Thais, he repeatedly urged the ‘smashing’ of the communists in Indochina and ‘left his hearers in no doubt that the United States would move in massively to combat an emergency; (not necessarily, it could be inferred, solely within the limits of SEATO planning)’. Another cause of concern was that the task of considering the employment of nuclear weapons was left to a sub-committee, where Felt was adamantly ‘against inclusion of any reference to the need for political agreement to the use of nuclear weapons’. But the American bid was unsuccessful: the British representative, General Hull, secured the position that under the plan there would have to be political agreement on the use of nuclear weapons. Admiral Roy Dowling, the Australian representative, sided with Felt; one caustic comment was that Dowling ‘was more difficult

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to dislodge from extreme US positions than was Admiral Felt, and spoiled some of the effect that the latter was trying to create’.39 The Thai General Surajit’s command of English was somewhat defective, and possibly he ‘had only the vaguest idea of what was going on’; he merely read out two prepared statements on the need to examine the issue of intervention in Laos without the invitation of its government. The rest of the Thai representatives opted for a ‘relaxed’ stance, leaving the Americans to advance their case further. The Pakistani and New Zealand representatives presented ‘moderate and sensible’ views, while the Philippines’ General Gabal showed himself ‘forceful and ebullient’ in supporting of the Thais. Finally, the French Admiral Ortoli ‘was a patient and competent chairman, although his analytical approach may have been too sophisticated and dispassionate for many of his colleagues’; he insisted on political guidance over military planning.40 By December 1960, developments had effectively rendered Plan 5 obsolete. In theory, the government of Laos would ask for SEATO’s aid to fight the communists, and SEATO would then first follow the United Nations route, invoking article 51 of the UN Charter in trying to garner as much support as possible from the Security Council. The Laotian military was now divided: in rural areas units followed General Phoumi, while the government under Prince Souvanna in Vientiane controlled the troops there. Government forces were cooperating with the Pathet Lao against General Phoumi. This government would not ask for SEATO’s help against the communists; the king of Laos would have had to dismiss the government, and form another one that would agree to call for help (and indeed American intelligence agencies were working to that end). But if Souvanna proved intransigent, Laos might end up with two separate governments, and the American-backed Laotian government would have to rely heavily on US military aid. The most serious aspect of this state of affairs for SEATO was that the alliance would have to take over the capital, fighting against Pathet Lao. Ironically, under Plan 5 it was supposed to be primarily the Laotian Army which would fight the Pathet Lao once SEATO troops had secured their bases. It now seems likely that many Government forces would desert immediately and those which remained would not do much fighting. SEATO forces would have to bear the brunt of any fighting.41 Besides, the Chinese might consider a move against Pathet Lao by SEATO as an attempt to upset the balance of power by ousting a communist

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movement. Possibly they would support the Laotian communists with volunteers and arms, at least in the north of the country. Such a response would mean ‘heavy intervention and threats of stern reprisals’: the alliance would sail directly into the murky waters of jungle counter-insurgency, and stand condemned by a large majority at the UN General Assembly. Warner feared that ‘at the worst the situation could rapidly lead to a general war’.42 British diplomacy, however, would block any further consideration of an intervention. Indeed, by 1963 Her Majesty’s Chargé d’Affaires in Bangkok, J.M. Fisher, emphasised that SEATO could deal only with conventional forces, and in any case ‘SEATO cannot and should not forget that by its very nature the problem of subversion is basically a national problem; it is essential that its solution should be seen to come from the national government concerned.’43 Besides, counter-subversion did not mean only secret intelligence operations and raids on hideouts. Thailand itself faced communist subversion in the north-east, due largely to bad living conditions among the population. There was great scope for development projects that could play a significant role in diminishing communist influence; and this was an issue for the government and the people. But in the event of the Thais seeking more money from Britain under SEATO counter-subversion programmes, the Treasury would not accept their request.44 In late 1961, Vice-President Lyndon Johnson paid a visit to Bangkok, and allegedly discussed the utility of basing a SEATO force in Thailand, ready to receive the ‘green light’ for intervention in Laos. Surprisingly, the Thai government reacted strongly, in spite of their backing for the intervention strategy. Sarit declared that: ‘We support the sending of SEATO troops into Laos if the Geneva conference fails, but we do not want troops based in our country.’45 The Thai press was more hostile, with dailies claiming that a SEATO force could put the country in the spotlight of international attention and prompt communist propaganda against Bangkok. For the time being, there was no need for assistance, since the Thai army could defend its homeland. It was also claimed the SEATO military exercises had demonstrated that a speedy deployment in times of crisis was possible. Besides, a troop deployment would mean a heavy financial burden for Bangkok ­– clearly, the Thais had no wish to increase their defence spending on SEATO.46 In 1962 Britain co-chaired the Geneva talks on Laos, with Russia, blunting any American and Thai eagerness for a SEATO intervention in the civil war. The Geneva accords stipulated the neutrality of the country, binding North Vietnam, the United States, Cambodia, France, China, South Vietnam, Burma, Thailand, India, Canada and Poland to observe it. It was

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assumed that the warring parties in Laos (Pathet Lao, Kong Le and Phoumi) would in the end become reconciled, but this did not prove the case, as the neutralist supporters of Prince Souvanna sided with the rightists.47 Eventually, Laos would turn into an area for the transit of war materiel and North Vietnamese troops to South Vietnam. The famous Ho Chi Minh trail in the jungle would be bombed by the USAF, and patrols of US special forces would engage the Vietcong in the years to come. SEATO members had to abide by the 1962 agreement not to update Plan 5 in respect of intervention; but on this the Americans retained their own national planning.48 Obviously, SEATO was an alliance without a purpose; it could not intervene in Laos, and Britain’s co-chairing of the Geneva talks showed the world that London’s policy on Indochina was far from identical to Washington’s. The alliance did not face a Sino-Russian threat: the State Department’s Bureau of Intelligence and Research even scaled down the prospects of SinoSoviet economic influence in Southeast Asia, estimating that: ‘The total value of new commitments [of economic aid from Russia and China] to the SEATO area was considerably less in 1962 than in 1960 or 1961.’ Pakistan and Laos (under the fragile coalition government) received credits, while Thailand, the Philippines and South Vietnam rejected any offers of money by Moscow or Beijing.49 Thai representatives became most nervous after the 1960 crisis in Laos, and the SEATO decision not to intervene. They argued that from now on only a 75 per cent majority, rather than unanimity ought to be the practice in deciding on the authorisation of SEATO planning and operations. However, their proposal contravened the 1954 Manila Treaty, which clearly required that there had to be a unanimous decision to help a victim of aggression. Britain and France (the latter abstained now from military-related activities) deemed the Thai position simply ‘unrealistic, with far-reaching implications for international organisations such as CENTO and NATO and indeed, for the whole concept of national sovereignty’.50 In their turn, the Australians never hid their view, expressed since the declaration of the alliance’s policy of non-intervention in Laos, that Britain and New Zealand ‘were opposed to putting any teeth into SEATO’.51 Australian diplomats worked unsuccessfully for a compromise, but SEATO was divided; on 6 March 1962 US Secretary of State Dean Rusk issued a joint communiqué with Khoman Thanat, the Thai Foreign Minister, stating that Washington would back Thailand’s defence against communism; in the event of communist aggression the American obligation to assist ‘does not depend upon the prior agreement of all the other parties to the Treaty, since

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this Treaty obligation is individual as well as collective’. This would come to be known as the ‘Rusk formula’. Two months later, in May 1962, Thailand asked for SEATO’s help, fearing that the crisis in Laos and the advance of the Pathet Lao would threaten its own territorial integrity. Washington reacted promptly: it was announced that ‘pursuant to the obligations under the SEATO treaty’ the United States agreed with Thailand to deploy forces in its territory to be employed in the event of a Pathet Lao invasion. Pressure on Britain led to the dispatch of a single RAF squadron. London and Bangkok reached an agreement ‘in accordance with the Southeast Asia collective defence treaty and the inherent right to take collective measures for self-defence in the Charter of the United Nations’, and Australia and New Zealand contributed to this show of deterrent force. By the end of May 6,000 US troops had reached Thailand, establishing a strong military presence to facilitate future air operations against the Vietcong using the Ho Chi Minh trail; the Commonwealth forces were to remain in the country until the end of 1962.52 The deployment of forces in Thailand was not under SEATO command; no SEATO field commander was in charge, though in public it appeared to be a SEATO action. But real modern alliances act in coordination under a single command. Kennedy himself, having limited trust in the alliance, confided to his cabinet that: ‘The purpose of putting forces into Thailand was to allow the United States to take whatever action might be necessary under the Manila Pact, yet no formal SEATO action was contemplated.’53 The President did not wish this SEATO force to have any commitment outside Thailand, and no time limit should have been imposed for its departure from the country.54 He also did not want South Vietnam to call for SEATO help, for fear of provoking the Russians and discouraged any such initiative by Saigon.55 Former President Eisenhower, who was kept informed of developments, viewed Laos as a domino ready to fall; he feared an outflanking of South Vietnam and Thailand. In a 13 May conversation with Secretary McNamara and General Lemnitzer, he agreed with a US military deployment in Thailand.56 Eisenhower sounded more sober at this meeting; two days earlier he had even suggested that an intervention in Laos should be followed up ‘with whatever support was necessary to achieve the objectives of their mission, including – if necessary – the use of tactical nuclear weapons’. Kennedy had no wish to see Eisenhower’s views becoming known among all his cabinet members; thus the memorandum of the conversation referred to Eisenhower as ‘Mr X’.57

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Nonetheless, the Chairman of the JCS, General Taylor, advised Kennedy to focus on the security of Thailand and South Vietnam; it was not in US interests to get involved in counter-insurgency in Laos or to attempt the occupation of Laotian towns. There was no reason to fight for Laotian security, since the Laotians’ own army would probably not join in combat.58 At the State Department, Hilsman (the Director of Intelligence and Research), who was examining a three-phase contingency plan for Laos entailing diplomatic and military initiatives on behalf of Washington, warned that: A war in Laos is not ‘winnable’ in the sense of recapturing communist areas … At best our objective of a peaceful neutralisation of Laos will be one with relatively little effort. If de facto partition is the outcome we must be prepared for US forces to remain on guard duty for many years. If – as we do not believe likely – the communists escalate, we will probably face a limited war or conceivably a larger, even nuclear war. But we estimate the chances of these dire eventualities as very low … the stakes in Laos are not Laos alone. A communist Laos will immediately step up the tempo of fighting in South Vietnam. And it will move Thailand smartly up to the top of the communist agenda … The job yet to be done in Asia may not be completely impossible with the southeast salient under attack, but it is far more difficult. A stabilized balance of power in Southeast Asia would give us time not only there but in the north and south as well. The gain may well be worth the risk.59 Eventually the idea of intervention in Laos was aborted by Kennedy; he would not risk an American initiative with such hesitant allies. In any case, the fear of communist infiltration and insurgency did not cause sufficient uneasiness to unite SEATO members or lead them to adopt a reactive strategy. Contingency planning continued within a more realistic framework, while the Americans increased their involvement in Vietnam. By 1965 the UK Embassy in Bangkok considered that a Chinese invasion in the SEATO area was so improbable as not to be worth considering. An increase in North Vietnamese attacks in Laos is less improbable but … expectations about British contributions in such an event would not necessarily or even probably be based on SEATO plans.60 Britain would not invest further in the military side of SEATO; the Treasury was pressing for defence cuts, the confrontation in Malaya was absorbing

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British resources and London would evade any future commitments. SEATO contingency planning was divided into two separate categories: plans for counter-insurgency, requiring SEATO forces to occupy cities and local forces to hunt guerillas; and those for counter-aggression, entailing bombardment and rapid ground deployment to block the advance of the invaders. Each plan was to be implemented by an appointed nation on the behalf of the other parties. The appointed nation designated the SEATO force commander – and here the Americans pushed their notion that this person should be a mere figurehead.61 The force commander would delegate authority to the SEATO field commander (who could be of a different nationality). The SEATO force commander would receive instructions, political guidance and plans from his national authorities. He would be given the advice of the SEATO political adviser appointed by the SEATO Council of Representatives, but ‘strategic direction will come from his national government acting on behalf of SEATO’.62 Plan 4 covered the defence of Southeast Asia, Pakistan and the Philippines against overt Chinese and North Vietnamese aggression. The appointed nation would be the United States; General Walter was designated the SEATO force commander and General William Westmorland the SEATO field commander. The plan was complete, with the exception of the sections on the defence of Pakistan and the Philippines. Plan 5 was now redundant – it had been drawn up to cover an intervention in Laos, but (at the request of Britain) had not been updated following the 1962 Geneva talks. Plan 6 was for the defence of the Protocol states against North Vietnamese aggression; all but the Thais had agreed on this. Plan 7 was for a counter-insurgency operation in South Vietnam, with the United States as the appointed nation. The British considered that this plan was ‘unrealistic as it has been overtaken by events in Vietnam. It was been shelved rather than formally set aside for political reasons.’ Finally, Plan 8 focused on counter-insurgency in Thailand, which was the appointed nation. Earlier, the Thais had treated the insurgency as a national concern, but had now altered their stance and sought SEATO support and funding. Until 1965 no force commitments were made in respect of this contingency.63 The British military contribution entailed one battalion within the Commonwealth brigade group (for Plans 4, 6 and 7), a RAF Hunter squadron (for Plans 4, 6 and 7) and a commando brigade in strategic reserve for an amphibious operation (Plans 4 and 6). Nonetheless, the UK forces declared to SEATO which would remain under national authority during the operations comprised eight Lightning fighter-bombers (for Plans 4 and 6), eight maritime aircraft (for Plans 4 and 6), bombers with nuclear

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weapons (for Plans 4 and 6), an air-transport squadron, an attack carrier, a commando ship, ten frigates or destroyers, eight minesweepers (all for Plans 4 and 6); three submarines (for Plan 4); and unspecified naval forces (for Plan 7). In addition, as a major ‘unwritten contribution’, the British base in Singapore would support the Commonwealth effort.64 Under Plan 4 the rest of the allies would mobilise: the Australians, one battalion for the Commonwealth brigade, a brigade group, the divisional headquarters and four RAAF squadrons.65 The Foreign Office assessment was that for SEATO Australia proved ‘a staunch supporter and generous contributor. In her eyes the chief merits of the organisation are that it provides a framework for collective military arrangements in an area vital to Australia’s interests.’ Indeed, in their desire to confirm the Americans in this commitment the Australians have indentified their line in SEATO with that of the United States, sometimes to the extent of showing themselves ostentatiously independent of the United Kingdom. Moreover, the Australian military regard us [the British] as far too cautious and have doubted whether we would honour our obligations to SEATO if they were to involve actual fighting.66 The New Zealanders would send one battalion (for the Commonwealth brigade group) and a light-bomber squadron, and hold another battalion in reserve. The American contribution would outnumber the rest: approximately six divisions (i.e. 18 brigades), five USAF squadrons, ‘considerable support’ in engineers, signals and artillery, plus massive air and naval support under national command. In 1963, the British admitted that the Americans had ‘little real confidence in the organisation as such and attach more importance to their own national and bilateral planning’. However, Washington’s aim was to bring SEATO closer to American policy on Vietnam.67 France and Pakistan would make no military contribution; and Thailand could dispatch six regional combat teams and one and a half squadrons of aircraft. The Philippines offered one battalion combat team.68 As in the case of the CENTO conferences, some allies wanted to discuss threats other than the communists; in this initiative Pakistan, as usual, took the lead, together with the Philippines and Thailand. Within SEATO the British showed themselves more tolerant of this request, but policy contradictions were noted. For example, in a 23 October 1964 telegram from Singapore, it was argued that pressure from regional member states for discussions on other than communist threats might increase; thus ‘it

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would be presumably not be advisable for us to refuse flatly to examine non-communist threats’.69 Four days later the Foreign Office warned British embassies in allied states that: On the one hand we must avoid the danger of regionalism within SEATO … on the other hand we cannot afford to discourage any dawning awareness among the Asian members of SEATO of the dangers of the threat from Indonesia. However reluctant we may be to allow the Pakistani thesis to make headway, we see advantage in encouraging discussion of the Indonesian threat to Mindanao and no harm in the Thais discussing Cambodia. In these circumstances we clearly cannot object to some discussion of the Pakistani proposals for amending the threat assessment paper [SEATO’s] … In general terms our view is that, if SEATO is to mean anything to its Asian members, they must be free to discuss all matters which might endanger the peace in the area.70 Besides, discussing threats in the SEATO Intelligence Committee did not ‘automatically entail the subsequent step of planning to meet the particular “threat”’: there had to be a ministerial meeting to authorise the drafting of new contingencies.’71 In any case the Commonwealth countries abided by the convention of not discussing Indian affairs within SEATO (contrary to Pakistan’s wish).72 The Foreign Office view on this matter was soon altered. A 6 November 1964 directive was explicit: ‘Our representative should avoid committing himself on the principle of SEATO discussion of non-communist threats, on which we shall have to reach an agreed position’, with the Commonwealth members and the United States, in advance. The British would offer to discuss this subject at bilateral level, in order to show their interest in the Philippines’ security. In the event of the Philippine representative declining to take part in such a discussion, ‘it will be more difficult for his government to insist on SEATO discussions subsequently’. If, on the other hand, bilateral talks commenced, Britain would find a suitable channel for ‘influencing the Philippine government against Indonesia, and as the news will probably reach the Indonesians, Anglo-Philippine talks on this subject would drive a further wedge between Indonesia and the Philippines.’ If the Thais attempted to discuss Cambodia, Britain would simply reply negatively, citing the need to keep a balance, given its co-chairmanship of the 1962 Geneva talks. These Machiavellian tactics would be explained to the Australians, the New Zealanders and the Americans.73

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Eventually handling the committee work proved less than easy. When the Pakistanis raised the issue of discussing non-communist threats, it was agreed that a subcommittee would examine it. A telegram to the Foreign Office provides a vivid picture of a conference going out of control: However, it was also agreed that the Pakistanis should submit an appendix to the threat estimate dealing with the Indian threat and that the many passages in the threat assessment to which the comments in this appendix relate, will be marked by asterisks. The United States representative gave no lead and the line taken by the Australian and New Zealand representatives made little contribution.74 The British delegate felt compelled to take a more leading role than intended. In the end, however, he agreed reluctantly to the messy procedure outlined above (which gives the Pakistanis most of the substance of what they want) but reserved the right to comment on his own position when the sub-committee’s report comes back to the steering committee … Our … representative did an excellent job but could not contain the discussion within its proper limits virtually single-handed.75 The Philippine delegate did not raise any issue concerning Indonesia, and the American discussed Cambodia with the Thai representative, who conceded that the committee should not examine the threat paper drafted by Thailand.76 In July 1962, Souvanna returned to power in Laos, heading a coalition government which included the Pathet Lao, in accordance with the 1962 Geneva agreement; however, by 1964 the situation had led to its complete breakdown. According to the Joint Intelligence Committee and the Chiefs of Staff the Chinese were in favour of a ‘creeping advance’ by the Pathet Lao, and would not launch any military adventurism – their policy was to back the Pathet Lao and their North Vietnamese supporters. The Russians seemed to want a neutral Laos so as to avoid the spread of Chinese influence in Indochina – they also judged that such neutrality would inhibit any possibility of a Sino-American confrontation, such as had occurred in Korea.77 On 19 April 1964, Souvanna was overthrown in a coup implemented by a young rightist general, and Pathet Lao forces launched an assault against the neutralists of Kong Le, who suffered defeat. Souvanna appealed

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to Britain and Russia to intervene, announcing a ‘fusion’ of moderate right and centre, and publicly blamed the North Vietnamese for interfering in support of the Pathet Lao – Vietcong soldiers had fought alongside their guerillas, and North Vietnam had thus broken its commitments to the 1962 and 1954 Geneva agreements. Kong Le sided with the rightists, and the two Pathet Lao ministers withdrew from the coalition government.78 The British Ambassador in Vientiane, Donald Hopson, argued that the foundations of the Geneva agreements were no longer in place, commenting that: ‘Humpty Dumpty cannot be put together again.’ There was a real danger of the US dragging Laos into the Vietnam war by bombing the Vietcong supply trail. The Americans also opted for the paramilitary game, by arming tribes to fight the North Vietnamese and Pathet Lao. Hopson spoke of a new task for British policy: ‘to try to maintain the façade of the [Geneva] agreements [of 1954 and 1962], and keep the mess in Laos manageable’.79 Retaining that façade would save Britain from the Vietnam adventure; London could always use its co-chairmanship of the defunct agreements as a key excuse for keeping out of Indochina. Even abiding by an agreement (which all considered had failed) might prove a useful argument in allied conferences, where pressures for military participation in a joint (and presumably fateful) endeavour were mounting.

5 SEATO and Vietnam

In the 1950s, hawks like John Foster Dulles had judged that SEATO would eventually confront the advance of communism in Indochina; in theory, this was the mission of the alliance. But in reality, SEATO proved a failed venture. The key members followed different policies: Britain, under Macmillan and Wilson, inhibited any SEATO involvement in Laos and Vietnam. The Americans, too eager to lead the war, were left to fight a jungle war alone, where glory was nowhere to be found. President Johnson had to accept that it was futile to try to involve Britain in the war – after the August 1964 Gulf of Tonkin incident, the immense American military commitment to help South Vietnam fight communist insurgency contrasted with the negative stance taken by London. Australia and New Zealand lent a hand, but their contribution was not made under the auspices of SEATO. Thailand and the Philippines were too weak to influence alliance policy in any one direction. France leant towards neutralism, and abstained from any military-related activity. The Pakistanis focused on their issues with India. Eventually, Nixon opted for an exit strategy, and did not renew American pressure on Britain to allow SEATO to join the war. Oliver Wright, Wilson’s private secretary, remarked perceptively in January 1966 that following the Cuban missile crisis: It is evident that the giants are not going to fight each other, the toddlers have felt free to pursue their own interests and create their own troubles. So that whereas before 1962 one had a fairly stable world situation under the threat of nuclear power, now we have a danger of world anarchy because the threat is no longer believed in.1 In the world of détente, SEATO and CENTO – alliances designed

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(politically and militarily) in the 1950s era of a Cold War mentality, and in fear of a new Korean-type war – were of diminishing utility. The giants, the United States, Russia and China (which last had possessed nuclear weapons since 1964), had no intention of confronting each other; rather, local conflicts were turned into insurgencies, a type of warfare SEATO and CENTO were unable to pursue. As we have seen in the previous chapter, British representatives were right in pointing out at SEATO conferences that counter-insurgency in South Vietnam was not a task approved in any of the alliance’s authorised plans. In 1961 the British came to Kennedy’s aid in his Vietnam policy of backing the Diem regime. Macmillan dispatched a mission to Vietnam to advise the government on counter-insurgency and to contribute to training. It was a modest politico-military initiative, and one that was not fully compatible with the 1954 Geneva declaration. The British military had acquired a reputation in counter-insurgency, derived from experience in Palestine, Malaya, Cyprus and Kenya. The head of the five-man British Advisory Mission (BRIAM) was Sir Robert Thompson, an officer respected by both Kennedy and Nixon.2 A year later, in April 1962, Macmillan paid a visit to Kennedy, who thought it important to bring in allies to support his Vietnam policy. The President was interested, as his National Security Advisor MacGeorge Bundy put it, ‘in making the Western effort in Vietnam more international and avoiding the appearance of a purely American enterprise’.3 Meanwhile, the CIA’s judgement was that a SEATO action in Vietnam would not provoke China to get involved in a full-scale war in Indochina. Guerrilla warfare by the Vietcong would be the main option for Hanoi; its leadership would avoid committing regular troops to confront the betterarmed and better-trained SEATO forces. Beijing and Moscow would help North Vietnam with arms only, seeking to avoid the expansion of the conflict. Besides, Moscow, Beijing and Hanoi were ‘generally confident that their current low risk tactics of local subversion and supporting “national liberation” struggles [would] continue to be successful in Southeast Asia’.4 The deployment of SEATO forces in South Vietnam would make the Chinese somewhat apprehensive, but ‘we [the CIA] do not believe Peiping [Beijing] would consider assignment of SEATO forces to South Vietnam, as an immediate and direct threat to its own national security’.5 The CIA was well-informed of the division amongst the SEATO allies; the estimate took for granted the participation of Australia and New Zealand. The Asian members would either react positively in case of a speedy success of the operations against the Vietcong or become anxious and put pressure to Washington to get involved further to resolve the situation to their

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security. For the Americans the issue concerned first Britain and second France: ‘The UK would be likely to oppose the assumed SEATO action, [and] the British reluctance to participate could be overcome only with great difficulty. France would also oppose the action and almost certainly would refuse to participate.’6 On 2 August 1964 three North Vietnamese torpedo boats attacked the destroyer USS Maddox in the Gulf of Tonkin while conducting electronic surveillance. For some time, South Vietnamese patrol craft under American leadership had been raiding the North Vietnamese coast. Possibly acting in response to provocation, the North Vietnamese boats were launched against the Maddox – but the first shots were fired by the Americans. The incident resulted in the sinking of one North Vietnamese boat and serious damage to a second. A further such engagement between North Vietnamese boats and the Maddox on 4 August was never confirmed, though it was played up by the Johnson administration. The Gulf of Tonkin episode was taken as a pretext for the escalation of American military involvement in Vietnam. Washington called for an urgent SEATO council, and members’ response sounded ‘satisfactory … most Council representatives had privately expressed their satisfaction with the US actions’. The British reaction was judged ‘relatively favourable’.7 American pressure for Wilson to contribute forces to Vietnam mounted. Johnson, during a walk with the Prime Minister in the White House rose garden, urged him to deploy the Black Watch (the famous Scottish infantry regiment) in Vietnam, but Wilson offered no concessions; the British commitment of 20,000 troops in Malaya and 8,000 in Borneo provided a strong argument to counter American pressure. Foreign Secretary Patrick Gordon Walker emphasised this commitment in a discussion with Dean Rusk. Britain may have been willing to help the United States in some ways, but Walker was ‘emphatic that the United Kingdom could not have troops on the ground in Vietnam’, though BRIAM would continue in its advisory and training role. The Americans once again heard the argument that Britain, as co-chairman of the Geneva conference and a member of the International Control Commission on Vietnam, wishing to retain these positions. Besides, many in the Labour party had no wish to support the American endeavour, and Wilson, with only a fragile four-vote majority in Parliament, was not about to jeopardise his premiership.8 Johnson’s anger was palpable – he was ‘outraged by Wilson’s steadfast refusal’ to come to his aid. In his eyes, Wilson’s British co-chairmanship argument was simply a ‘fig leaf ’.9 Once the bombing of North Vietnam had commenced (under Operation Rolling Thunder) on 7 February 1965,

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Wilson telephoned Johnson to advise restraint against escalation, offering to fly to Washington to discuss Vietnam strategy with the President. Johnson reacted with rudeness: Wilson wrote in his memoirs that after his offer, ‘to my surprise, he let fly in an outburst of Texan temper’. The President desperately needed loyal allies that could accept his leadership, not simply friends and counsellors. He made explicit reference to Britain’s monetary problems, and the help afforded by his government; he wanted something tangible (such as troops) in return. Rusk confided that the President had admitted in conferences with his cabinet that the administration should not ‘pull out Britain because we can’t do the job of world policeman alone’.10 This might have been what Eden, in the past, had always longed to hear; but Wilson remained steadfast. Eventually, Johnson replied angrily that ‘I won’t tell you how to run Malaysia and you don’t tell me how to run Vietnam … If you want to help us some in Vietnam send us some men and send us some folks to deal with these guerrillas. And announce to the Press that you are going to help us. Now if you don’t feel like doing that go on with your Malaysian problem.’11 Even in times of anger he was asking for help. The Foreign Office agreed with Wilson: despite the ‘special relationship’, Britain and SEATO should not be dragged into the Americans’ war. Earlier, in August 1964, Thompson had warned that a Vietcong victory over South Vietnam was ‘inevitable’, and called for Washington to negotiate with Hanoi.12 He also argued that there was a need to bring in SEATO in ‘token but joint allied support’. The head of BRIAM seemed to be treating the Vietnam crisis and Indochina as resembling ‘the battle for Singapore’. Since the Americans were now committed, the British should help them; the 1954 Geneva declaration had ended up as a ‘farce’. The Foreign Office, of course, reacted strongly against Thompson’s suggestions; in addition, the JIC estimated that a British bid to back South Vietnam would prove futile. James Cable (the head of the Southeast Asia department at the Foreign Office) thought that SEATO’s backing for the Americans might lead Washington to escalate the conflict, and even to attempt nuclear brinkmanship. The JIC’s assessment was that the Vietcong were self-sufficient in troops and war materiel, while their deployment through Laos and Cambodia could not be inhibited by military action; the committee feared a Chinese response in the form of volunteers joining the Vietcong. Also China might give further help to the Pathet Lao in Laos, and the indecisive war in Vietnam could accelerate the confrontation in Indonesia.13 For his part, Harold Wilson’s view was that by bargaining hard over the dispatch of a token force to Vietnam (which in any case he was not

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prepared to authorise) he could influence American policy-making; he was wrong – the Americans grew more stubborn. Finally, Wilson opted for a policy of helping the Americans by selling them napalm bombs and by redirecting some signals-intelligence operations from Hong Kong to cover North Vietnamese communications; he continued with the British Advisory Mission in Saigon, and the Special Air Service (SAS) were possibly involved in some jungle training-programmes for American forces; and at a time of defence cuts, Wilson agreed to economic aid for South Vietnam that reached US$2.4 million from 1968 to 1971.14 May 1966 saw the start of a new phase of Rolling Thunder, with Hanoi and Haiphong as the key targets. In London, many in the Labour party protested strongly at this escalation of the war, and Wilson had to choose which side to take. In the House of Commons he stated that: ‘We could not support any extension of the bombing against North Vietnam by stages to Hanoi and Haiphong.’ A month later, in a finely-phrased Commons statement he ‘noted with regret’ the new bombings, arguing that ‘the United States are right’ to help South Vietnam while Hanoi presented a ‘constant rejection of the path of peace’.15 The Prime Minister, a master of tactics, was walking a political tightrope. He had no wish to alienate the Americans, but equally sought to keep his position in the face of backbenchers’ and voters’ anti-war attitudes. Wilson acted as a mediator and friend towards the USA. In April 1965 he offered to send Walker (who was no longer Foreign Secretary) to Hanoi and Beijing to discuss their respective positions on a settlement; both declined to accept him. In June, Wilson proposed to a Commonwealth conference that a group of prime-ministerial mediators, with himself in the lead, should visit Moscow, Washington, Beijing, Saigon and Hanoi. This hastilyprepared scheme had the appearance of a stunt. Washington was simply informed, but the British cabinet did not examine this policy option. Some in the Labour party liked the idea, but eventually the refusal of Hanoi and Beijing stopped the initiative in its tracks. Rusk was pleased – he had feared the possibility of the Commonwealth prime ministers asking in public for the United States to cease the bombing, while ‘communist powers, under [a] double standard, would probably escape with light criticism’.16 The dispatch of a left-wing Labour MP, Harold Davies, was Wilson’s next initiative. Davies was granted a visa for North Vietnam, but Hanoi, annoyed by a press leak, decided against him seeing Ho Chi Minh, and he met only the communist rank and file. Again, Washington was much pleased by this failure.17 In November 1966, Foreign Secretary George Brown offered to mediate

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during a visit to Moscow. But this bid did not elicit the positive Soviet response which might have led to an approach to Hanoi. Wilson then tried again to bring Russia into a scheme for mediation. During a visit to Britain by the Soviet Prime Minister, Alexei Kosygin, in February 1967, he proposed to the Soviets that both their states should act as intermediaries. He even offered to reconvene the Geneva conference, an option neither Hanoi and Washington wished to follow. Chester Cooper, of the National Security Council staff and Johnson’s special emissary, presented the American positions to the British government. The final draft of the proposal, to be handed to Hanoi by the Soviets, encompassed a two-phase procedure: North Vietnam had to promise in secret that no troop deployment in the south would continue once Washington had ceased the bombings. Kosygin agreed to the draft, which was also sent to Washington. But a flash message altered the situation: Johnson asked for a change in the text. He had already (without Wilson’s knowledge) sent a message directly to Ho Chi Minh proposing that if North Vietnam agreed ‘to an assured stoppage of infiltration into South Vietnam, then the United States would cease bombing and stop increasing US troop strength’.18 Johnson had set a quid pro quo which neither the North Vietnamese nor the Russians were to accept. Wilson found himself in an awkward position. He could not discuss a change in the draft because Kosygin had already left for Scotland, while Johnson’s letter to Ho Chi Minh had rendered the Anglo-Soviet mediation virtually redundant. Wilson wrote an irritable letter to Johnson, saying ‘you will realise what a hell of a situation I am in for the last day of talks with Kosygin’. For their part, the State Department was ‘outraged that Wilson had jumped the gun without their authorisation’. Johnson claimed that it was a mistake to present the Soviets with a written proposal without Washington’s final approval. Nonetheless, he admitted in his memoirs that: ‘The result was a diplomatic mix-up for which we [in Washington] shared a certain amount of responsibility.’19 Wilson was disappointed at ‘an historic opportunity’ (as he later described it) to end the war, while Washington took the view that Britain was trying too hard to mediate. There was no intention to give Wilson credit for bringing Hanoi to the negotiating table, and in any event Hanoi was more interested in war than diplomacy. Nonetheless, the Labour party’s left wing hailed Wilson’s initiatives.20 American pressure mounted at the SEATO consultations. On the occasion of the London SEATO ministerial meeting of 4–5 May 1965, Rusk planned for Under-Secretary of State George Ball to invite a South Vietnamese representative, as an observer, who would give a presentation

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on the situation in his country. In response, Ball would invoke the SEATO treaty for ‘collective action’ to repel ‘North Vietnamese aggression’. South Vietnam was not a member of SEATO, and thus could not itself invoke the treaty. It seemed that the Americans were urging the South Vietnamese to ask for SEATO’s help, their main motive being to facilitate military assistance from the Commonwealth as well as from the Philippines and Thailand. In addition, Washington was attempting to convince domestic public opinion in the USA that Vietnam was not a solely American problem. James Cable was informed of this controversial initiative by the State Department, and explicitly warned that large sections of British public opinion and of the Labour party would not agree to Britain backing the Americans. The same reaction was expected from France and Pakistan, with the looming danger of Paris deciding to leave SEATO altogether. Also, Britain was interested in facilitating negotiations, possibly including a conference, on Cambodia; the communists would definitely view Britain with suspicion if it agreed to SEATO action. The American/South Vietnamese initiative to get the alliance’s support looked ‘politically inexpedient’. Most significantly, the communist countries might assume that the United States could not continue its operations in Vietnam alone, and desperately needed an allied contribution. ‘On balance, therefore, the effect would probably be to encourage continued communist resistance rather than the reverse,’ commented Cable. SEATO would appear a very loose association if Britain, France and Pakistan all disagreed with the invoking of the treaty, and the communists might also assume that the Johnson administration was not receiving the allied support it needed. If Pakistan invoked the treaty to get the allies’ backing against India (in the pattern of the American bid for Vietnam), and its request was declined, it would eventually see itself as compelled to withdraw from SEATO. Cable emphasised that: ‘The action proposed [i.e. invoking the treaty for the defence of South Vietnam by SEATO] could be against the interests of the United States and of South Vietnam and detrimental to the alliance.’21 Policy differences had to be kept sub rosa at official conferences. Of course, Ball did not accept the argument that the US administration might look weak if it was seen to appeal to allies for help. However, Cable told Ambassador Bruce that the fact that Washington had not invoked the treaty earlier might be interpreted as ‘a sign of panic’. Cable was crystal clear, stating bluntly that: ‘So far as HMG were concerned it would be quite out of the question for the Treaty to be invoked in any way over Vietnam.’22 Britain would not allow herself and the alliance to be dragged into the war in Vietnam. The ministerial meeting of May 1965 ended up as a sad affair

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for the USA; Britain had ‘managed to ride the Americans off the idea’ of calling on SEATO, and they were also disappointed at the limited coverage the council received in the British press.23 The government of South Vietnam hit back against the French. On 6 May, it announced the expulsion of the Agence France Presse correspondent and the banning of broadcasts by the French cultural mission, the journalist’s reporting being deemed ‘tendentious.’ It was a harsh response to the remarks of the French representative at the London conference, that: ‘There cannot be any common position and still less any common action taken by the [SEATO] member countries on the grave questions that are at stake.’24 South Vietnam could assault the French without fear of reprisal, since now they contributed nothing to SEATO’s military exercises and not Britain, which in its eyes maintained a special relationship with Washington. On 29 April 1965, after a conversation with the South Vietnamese Foreign Minister, British Ambassador Gordon Etherington-Smith reported that the minister understood the British position that it was impossible for the Americans to receive SEATO assistance. The minister claimed that ‘his idea had not been to stimulate action by SEATO members or to obtain further concrete assistance for Vietnam but to strengthen general position by bringing American support for Vietnam under aegis of SEATO’, as Western forces had been under United Nations auspices during the Korean war.25 But it was easy to see that Vietnam bore little or no resemblance to the UNsanctioned response in Korea a decade earlier. The New Zealanders had joined the Australians, albeit hesitantly, in the Vietnam adventure, with Canberra and Wellington seeking a closer relationship with Washington – for years the ANZUS agreement had appeared inactive. Australia had already decided to increase military assistance to South Vietnam on a bilateral basis.26 Under the leadership of the conservative Keith Holyoake, New Zealand dispatched an artillery battery in May 1965. The New Zealand Department of External Affairs issued a communiqué stating that: ‘This step has been taken in the light of New Zealand’s obligations under the Manila Treaty and the recent decision of the SEATO Council.’ Indeed the ministerial council had condemned the dangerous situation caused by aggression against the Republic of Vietnam – an aggression organised, directed, supplied and supported by the communist regime in North Vietnam in contravention of the basic obligation of international law and in flagrant violation of the Geneva agreements of 1954 and 1962.

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The council agreed an ‘increase’ in military assistance. According to the final communiqué (paragraph 10), the divided alliance followed the pattern of the ‘Rusk formula’ (i.e. each nation to help independently): … substantial assistance and reinforcement have been given during the past year by certain Member governments in order to assist South Vietnam in resisting aggression from the North. The Member Government agreed to continue and, consistent with their commitments elsewhere, to increase their assistance to South Vietnam.27 But there was a catch that made the New Zealand communiqué appear misleading: the treaty was not invoked in the conference – and ‘no obligations in regard to Vietnam under the Treaty are yet operative,’ remarked UK Ambassador Arthur Rumbold, perceptively, from Bangkok.28 J.E.A. Miles, the head of the UK High Commission in Wellington, informed London that the Department of External Affairs was aware of this; it was simply that this was the only way to persuade New Zealand public opinion, and to avoid controversy and divisions; it was better to talk of treaty obligations than state interests.29 In a Senate Foreign Relations Committee hearing in Washington, Rusk made reference to American obligations, under the SEATO treaty, to help South Vietnam. There was some initial anxiety at the Foreign Office that he might again ask for the allies’ participation in the campaign against the Vietcong. This was quickly discounted, as Cooper from the White House reassured the British Embassy that Rusk was speaking of obligations under the treaty simply to convince the senators to back Johnson’s policy on Vietnam.30 Counsellor de la Mare, of the British Embassy in Washington, concurred that Rusk’s remarks in the Senate committee did not imply the advent of renewed pressure for London to join the campaign. De la Mare referred to the legal advice he had received from the Foreign Office emphasising that South Vietnam had requested military assistance, but this did not amount to an invitation, under article IV (paragraph 3) of the Manila treaty, for SEATO allies to take action in Vietnam. There was no case for such action, despite the American, Australian and New Zealand rhetoric. The FO’s legal experts’ view was that: Any action taken under the Manila treaty which is not agreed by all the members of the Alliance under the SEATO procedures could not

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properly be described as ‘SEATO action’ (as distinct from action by a SEATO member which it could reasonably claim to be taking in pursuance of its obligation under the Treaty) … no one state would have the right to declare, in effect, that it was acting on behalf of the Alliance as a whole if its action was initiated without consulting the other members through the Alliance’s constitutional machinery.31 The ‘Rusk formula’ was no more than an appeal for help, and of no legal significance. Even if South Vietnam risked invoking the treaty, London was not obliged to act – there was plenty of room for arguing whether there had been actual communist aggression under the terms of article IV (paragraph 1). And even if the aggression criterion were satisfied, the lawyers were confident that the treaty did not define the means of reaction ‘to meet the common danger’. The circumstances and ‘the general situation prevailing at the time’ would influence the deliberation of how to react. This had been stated by the British back in 1954. Thus: Even if it were agreed to be appropriate that some members should take armed action, it could equally be agreed to be appropriate that others should not. Depending on what the circumstances were, we would hope to be able to argue convincingly that it was not appropriate, particularly in view of our position as Co-chairman of the Geneva convention … or at any rate that any action by HMG should be not taken formally under SEATO but informally and bilaterally as before.32 Meanwhile, there was speculation that Thailand and the Philippines might stir up trouble against the French in the coming June SEATO ministerial meeting in Canberra. Thanat, the Thai Foreign Minister, hoped that the French would withdraw from the alliance ‘because their presence in it only impeded its business’, and the Philippine Foreign Minister went public in a similar fashion. Arthur Rumbold, the British Ambassador in Bangkok, was not over-concerned at the intentions of Thailand and the Philippines, arguing that: Good-mannered behaviour in circumstances of this kind [the ministerial session] is what the French notice and remember. In the long run it is more important that we should be well regarded by our French allies than that we should try to earn the applause of a Thanat or a Ramos [the Philippine Foreign Minister].33

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The protest against the French stance on SEATO was in any event irrelevant – it was mainly Britain that opposed contributing forces to the Vietnam conflict, not France (which anyway was sending only an observer to SEATO conferences). Had London wanted, SEATO would have been involved in Vietnam under the Rusk formula- despite any different views of the French and the Pakistanis. Perhaps the diplomatic momentum might have persuaded all to join the fight. Eventually, Australian diplomacy agreed with the British that France should not be cornered at the meeting.34 Sir Peter Ramsbotham, the British Ambassador in Paris, agreed with Rumbold’s suggestion that any Thai/Philippine assault on the French should be deterred. But the Ambassador was hardly a supporter of the French, reminding other ambassadors of President de Gaulle’s stance in the past. He argued that since France was leaving the military wing of NATO, London should avoid giving any pretext for quarrels, for instance by backing Thailand and the Philippines.35 Besides, de Gaulle was already on bad terms with the Americans due to his policy on Vietnam. In 1965 an American diplomat even hinted unwisely that France should withdraw from SEATO, so as to make it easier for the alliance to take action in Vietnam.36 A year earlier, in a conversation with Konthi Suphamongkhon, the SEATO Secretary-General, Prime Minister Sir Alec Douglas-Home had expressed the view that: ‘De Gaulle seemed to think that a sort of messy neutralism was the best solution for the problems of the area’. (However, France was not expected to leave the alliance.) Konthi came out as anti-French, speaking in favour of Paris withdrawing from the alliance so that it would work more smoothly. Curiously, Douglas-Home took a hawkish stance in comparison with Macmillan’s views on SEATO, maintaining that economic aid programmes under SEATO were positive aspects, but: ‘We had to realize that SEATO [is] essentially a military alliance with military purpose.’37 In his turn, Rumbold toyed with the concept of ‘a common European attitude towards the affairs of Southeast Asia’, believing that Washington would listen to its allies if they talked with one voice. It was in British interests ‘to increase our influence over the Americans either for “top table” reasons or because we really think that we are cleverer than they are, which we probably are’. No one should assume that even a token UK force in Vietnam would increase British influence over Washington. Even NATO allies hesitated to offer public support for American policy on Vietnam, and if all Europeans spoke together the Americans might listen.38 For Rumbold SEATO was irrelevant, and Britain should ‘take a seat further and further back … with a view to leaving it altogether at the right moment (in company with the French)’. SEATO was an alliance ‘to which no non-regional

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member ought to belong if it is disinclined to engage its forces on the mainland of Asia’. He reminded the Foreign Office that even Dulles, back in 1954, had managed to persuade US senators that America should join SEATO, assuring them that Washington would not deploy forces in Southeast Asia unless there was a need for massive retaliation – but ‘the days of massive retaliation are past’. And the British public would not support the sending of a UK force to Vietnam because they have been affected ‘on the whole … by the tide of napalm [more] than they have [been affected] by the tide of Chinese communism (which anyway looks like receding in most parts of the world)’.39 Ambassador Etherington-Smith in Saigon strongly disagreed with Rumbold’s notion of shaping a common European attitude; this would not be ‘consistent with the British interests’. For years, Britain had carried special weight and made special commitments in Asia. Besides: The French attitude towards Vietnam seems to be thoroughly mischievous: selfish, dishonest (because they pretend that a neutralised Vietnam could resist communism, while knowing this to be impossible) and inspired by a good deal of spite towards both the Vietnamese (whom the French have never forgiven for their ‘ingratitude’) and the Americans.40 The Ambassador considered that only the British had sufficient ‘know-how’ for jungle counter-insurgency. Knowledge transfer (through BRIAM) should be intensified – educating the American military would not necessarily involve political risk for London. Cooperation with the Americans would not be smooth but something must be done: ‘As it is, I doubt very much whether the Americans will succeed with their present methods,’ concluded Etherington-Smith.41 In reply, de la Mare warned Etherington-Smith of the danger that the Americans, while receiving British advice, would once again ask for a British contribution. A disturbing question might be set: ‘Why, if we [the British] are now the answer [to problems of jungle counter-insurgency], we do not pitch in and do something about it.’42 In any event, BRIAM had only a limited impact on counter-insurgency strategy, because Thompson’s experts were never able to get their ideas properly carried out. They suffered in fact from a double handicap – first, in that the Americans did not understand the nature of the problem and, second, that the South Vietnamese were usually unwilling or unable to put into action the policies which BRIAM advocated.43

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Thompson ‘still shakes his head sadly over them [the Americans] on his visits in Washington’.44 Rumbold returned to the subject of working with the Europeans, insisting that ‘19-th century voices’ in British foreign policy ‘gradually becoming muted’. Indeed: ‘The idea of our own private “world-wide political and strategic interests”, just maintainable now by mirrors and string, would then be exposed as ludicrous.’45 De la Mare demonstrated that the value of SEATO had been diminishing. The alliance is a very ineffective instrument, largely because so many of its members have different views as to what its function should be. But to the extent that we find it profitless and a burden our best hope is that it should gradually, so to speak, wither on the vine.46 He considered that a British withdrawal would damage relations with Australia, New Zealand and the United States, and proposed a new defence agreement to replace SEATO – but there remained a strong possibility of setting up ‘another white man’s club.’ In the near future, Britain should back SEATO ‘for the record, while secretly devoutly hoping that it will not be invoked’.47 While the confrontation in Indonesia was dying away (which meant possible US pressures for new British commitments in Indochina), another issue should be raised by London. Japan contributed nothing to regional defence, and this was the consequence of post-war American policy, when Washington had drafted the new Japanese constitution. Tokyo ought now to contribute at least something, and a new regional defence arrangement could include Japan. Also, regional cooperation schemes like the Association of Asian States (ASEAN would be established a year later, in 1967) might create new dynamics in the region, while Britain should not forget the role of Australia, New Zealand and the USA in Asia.48 The Australians, especially, were well regarded in America for their military contribution in Vietnam; and it was understood that Washington provided military intelligence to them because in its eyes they were ‘tougher, and more reliable.’ The Foreign Office did not anticipate strong American pressure at the coming SEATO conference; Rusk would ask once again for help just to be heard by his domestic audience.49 In a speech at the Australian Institute of International Affairs in Canberra, Michael Stewart, the British Foreign Secretary, made London’s position clear: British aid to South Vietnam (mainly on civilian schemes) was not under the auspices of SEATO. He disagreed with Rusk, who referred to military aid under the treaty.50 At the conference Stewart stated

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that: ‘Britain intended to keep powerful forces in the SEATO area for the foreseeable future.’ But no new commitments would be made, since the defence review was now under way. Rusk called for help in Vietnam, but admitted that: ‘He did not see the likehood of “others” [i.e. the Chinese] coming in on the North Vietnamese side, but the risk was there.’51 As usual, the Pakistani representative talked of Kashmir, before arguing that political negotiations over Vietnam should commence on the basis of the 1954 Geneva agreement; also, of course, he asked for more economic aid from the alliance. The South Vietnamese observer spent all his time trying to show that his country was confronting North Vietnamese aggression.52 General Vargas from the Philippines claimed in a ‘turgid speech’ that the war in Vietnam was ‘a symbol of SEATO effectiveness’, while admitting that Chinese involvement was not to be expected. The Prime Minister of New Zealand, in ‘a well-balanced speech’, called for negotiations to end the war, but also approved of the US military operations. Finally, Harold Holt, his Australian counterpart, observed that: ‘Problems in this area [of the world] were never clear-cut and it was therefore a good thing that SEATO was flexible.’ He claimed that this alliance ‘kept communism at bay’.53 Wilson, meanwhile, in an attempt to show the frustrated Americans that he was on their side, decided that a unit of Royal Engineers which had built an airfield in Thailand should remain in place and help with other construction, such as road-building;54 Thailand had become a base for the US military effort against the Ho Chi Minh trail. By 1968 SEATO was looking increasingly irrelevant. While the New Zealanders and Australians continued to contribute forces in Vietnam, under a bilateral framework, Wilson was accelerating the British withdrawal from East of Suez. Angry talks erupted with the Americans. Foreign Secretary George Brown met Rusk on 11 January 1968, informing him that the British military withdrawal from the Persian Gulf and Southeast Asia was to be completed by 1971. Rusk, frustrated at losing allies in time of need, shouted: ‘For God’s sake act like Britain!’ The stereotype of nineteenthcentury British imperial might retained its deceptive charm. Rusk spoke of a ‘little England’ mentality, sarcastically adding (with reference to Wilson’s planned domestic policies) that: ‘He could not believe that free aspirins and false teeth were more important than Britain’s role in the world.’55 He went on to say that: ‘He was disturbed when the teacher abandoned the field’ (meaning a teacher of power politics), though curiously, from the 1950s onwards in Asia and the Middle East it was the United States which had acted in an assertive, didactic style, not Britain. Since Eden had long left office (we can assume that though he valued high the ‘special relationship’ he would

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not be dragged easily to the war in Vietnam), British policy on Indochina had been very cautious. Rusk felt that over the Vietnam war, when immense human and material resources were being spent on jungle warfare, Britain had abandoned Washington. London had not only blocked SEATO action in Vietnam but was also withdrawing from areas that directly supported US defence policy. Brown was effectively presenting a fait accompli; and for the Johnson administration, more bad news was to come a few days later. The US Marines outpost of Khe Sanh, a strategic base that facilitated raids against the Ho Chi Minh trail, was attacked at dawn on 21 January 1968; the Americans found themselves under siege, with a large part of their ammunition supplies destroyed by massive North Vietnamese fire-power. Johnson and his administration were forcibly reminded of the fate of the French paratroopers besieged at Dien Bien Phu back in 1954. As American television gave on-the-spot coverage of the war, the defenders of Khe Sanh had to be supported by drops of war materiel that reached 18,000 tons of ammunition. Mortar and artillery barrages as well as hand-to-hand combat made up the harsh, high-stress reality of the siege. Meanwhile, a South Vietnamese special-forces base at Lang Vei was overrun by the Vietcong. On 31 January the Tet offensive commenced, setting all South Vietnamese cities ablaze, showing Washington and the world that the US military had no effective control over internal security. The battles in Hue lasted for almost a month, and casualties soared, while the siege of Khe Sanh was not lifted for two months. The Tet offensive ended in late February; the North Vietnamese had lost the battle, and had failed to take Khe Sanh – but American self-confidence was seriously shaken. On 31 March Johnson surprised everyone by stating that he would not run for a second term, also announcing a partial halt to the bombing. In May, Hanoi conceded that negotiations could start in Paris. In June General Westmorland (the commander of MACV in Vietnam) returned to Washington; General Creighton Abrams, his replacement, promoted a ‘one war’ concept, planning for a slow Vietnamisation of the war; and assigning to the South Vietnamese the burden of counter-insurgency. Alongside the Americans, the Australians and the New Zealanders, contingents from South Korea, the Philippines and Thailand also waged war in Vietnam. By 1969 there were approximately 69,000 non-American allied troops, in several roles, with South Korea fielding some 50,000 troops, the second-largest contribution after the United States. Abrams commented that the Korean marines and special forces ‘left nothing to be desired’. Nonetheless, President Johnson was informed that the Koreans had ‘created

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as many problems as they have solved, that they are too brutal and careless of civilian life’. In contrast, the Philippine Civil Action Group, manned by 2,000 officers, provided medical services. Meanwhile, an Australian unit commander admitted that: [His superiors] were too cautious; they [his troops] did not patrol widely, or invite attacks; he thought their effectiveness was being diminished by their conservatism. He suggested that this had political causes, as the home government didn’t want to see a big casualty list.56 The war in Vietnam had exposed the different policy priorities of Washington and Europe. Indeed in 1967, the NATO and Pacific allies, as The Times correspondent Henry Brandon perceptively remarked, did not agree with the American analysis of the importance of the war … the allies felt no urgency, no real sense of danger, certainly nothing to compare with their feeling when Japan had been on the march in the Second World War. 57 European allies did not wish to be identified with the Saigon regime, nor with brutal American tactics, while (ironically) Germany helped to finance the Vietnam war by supporting the dollar and giving economic aid to South Vietnam.58 The American-built coalition was an ad hoc grouping, backed by hard bargaining and costly bills payable by Washington. When Thailand, the Philippines and South Korea increased their price for participation, Washington even responded with a threat of withdrawing its forces from South Korea, to persuade Seoul not to reduce its deployment in Vietnam.59 Only the Australians and New Zealanders covered their own expenses and did not ask for money. Canberra and Wellington aimed to strengthen their strategic security ties with Washington, rather than to squeeze the Americans for any additional military and financial aid.60 This high-priced ad hoc grouping mattered for domestic and foreign policy, since SEATO ‘was more cosmetic than real’, as Cooper conceded.61 At the FCO planners examined the relevance of the American involvement in Vietnam and the possible outcomes of the war for British medium-term interests. The main assessment was that Hanoi’s agreement to negotiate in May 1968 had been occasioned by the ‘relative failure’ of the Tet offensive, and that the assumption prevailed among the North Vietnamese that a conventional military victory was impossible as long as the Americans continued to deploy forces in the country; but Hanoi sought to take advantage of the political

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confusion in the United States after Johnson’s announcement that he would not run again for the presidency.62 However, the British had no evidence that the overall North Vietnamese policy is anything more than ‘talking while fighting’, nor any firm indication that they could not continue fighting for a long period, at least at a level which would make ‘pacification’ of South Vietnam virtually impossible.63 For London, SEATO mattered little – in fact it was not mentioned in the FCO planners’ report. Economic considerations prevailed: Britain had to protect its economic and commercial interests in the region while the Americans were contemplating their future policy. Washington had to be induced not to reduce its military commitment to Europe to bolster the Vietnam endeavour. In addition, it was in the long-term interests of Britain for the Americans not to worsen their relations with the Chinese. [Britain] should avoid any other situations in which we might be involved militarily, e.g. in defence of Australia and New Zealand if a military threat to them should develop in Southeast Asia or in defence of Malaysia, should she again become involved in hostilities with any of her neighbours. 64 It was also very important that developments in the region did not make it ‘more difficult for us to disengage in due course from Hong Kong’. British commercial and financial interests in Indochina had been estimated at up to £350–400 million in holdings, £177.5 million in investments for 1965, and £141.8 million in trade in 1967 (i.e. 2.7 per cent of total British exports). There was also the Shell oil corporation’s investments in Brunei, as well as the strategic requirement for military communications and transport between Britain and the Far East.65 Planners examined two options for the Americans, from continuing military deployment in South Vietnam to transferring more bases to Thailand and adopting a ‘peripheral strategy’, with seaborne deterrent forces deployed in the Indian Ocean. From the British perspective there was an absolute need to restore the balance of payments. It was claimed that the present American deployment in Vietnam hindered any improvement, the argument being that the war effort in Vietnam ‘imposed strains on the world monetary system’.66 It was estimated that: Vietnam accounted for about a third of the 1967 US deficit of $3.4

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billion. Since the March [1968] gold crisis the existing monetary system has depended largely on the willingness of the surplus European countries, especially Germany, to hold an increasing volume of dollars in their reserves. Their willingness to do this is already due in part to their expectation that an end to the war in Vietnam is in sight, though this is not the most important reason … a settlement will not immediately produce a dramatic improvement in the United States balance of payments … But the improved prospects would have a stimulating confidence effect on the dollar and in world trade, which should both directly benefit the UK balance of payments.67 There was a danger of a monetary crisis if the Americans continued their war effort at its current level. It was calculated that: The maintenance of a defence-led growth rate in the Unites States would not compensate for the adverse reactions on international confidence. In such circumstances it is rather unlikely that the Europeans would continue indefinitely to take in sufficient dollars to preserve the existing payments system. Their refusal to do so could result in a major monetary crisis which would cause us major damage whatever its outcome.68 For the FCO the preferred answer was not an American withdrawal, which would further damage British strategic and commercial interests. In the event of the Americans abandoning South Vietnam to its fate (and thus appearing weak to both Hanoi and Beijing) the consequent loss of confidence in their will to defend their allies elsewhere would make itself felt in the economic as well as the political and strategic field. The United States would lose conviction as the leader of the Western world and isolationist tendencies might be strengthened in America. Australia and New Zealand would be particularly disturbed.69 As a consequence, British commercial interests in countries influenced by China and North Vietnam would be doomed.70 Since November 1964 Britain had promoted the adoption of a peripheral strategy, in partnership with the United States, for post-war Indochina. This strategy encompassed basing American troops only in the Philippines, and deploying naval forces in the Indian Ocean to deter any aggression. It was

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emphasised that the ministers endorsing this approach took into serious consideration that ‘the threat from China was one of subversion rather than outright aggression’, and in the long run Western forces stationed on the Southeast Asian mainland would do more harm than good, both by provoking Chinese hostility towards the receiving countries and by providing a focus for local agitation and propaganda against the West.71 The worst scenario under consideration was that the United States would withdraw from Vietnam in defeat. With such an outcome, Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia, Thailand and Burma would all be in danger of inclusion in the communist sphere of influence; and British strategic and commercial interests would clearly suffer severe damage. Malaysia, Singapore and Indonesia might lean to neutralism. It was in British interests for the Americans to de-escalate their presence in Vietnam and to implement a peripheral strategy for deterrence, as well as basing more forces in Thailand – so long as this option did not lead to a second Vietnam-style war. But the Thais, according to reassuring FCO estimates, did not face a communist insurgency like that in Vietnam; the communists there had no combat experience, and remained isolated in regional tribes – the country was not divided, as Vietnam had been.72 The sad truth, however, was that London enjoyed very limited influence over Washington. [The Americans] in their present mood of self-absorption are unlikely to welcome advice from their allies. It would not help, and could damage, our interests to press on them our views of what US policy would best suit Britain in the long-term. If opportunity offers it may be useful to make our views known discreetly and indirectly. But our main interest lies in keeping silent until we can see what the outcome in Vietnam is to be.73 On 26 August 1969, Henry Kissinger, Nixon’s National Security Advisor, drafted a brief memorandum on American commitments to SEATO. He emphasised that there were obligations to be addressed by each party, and collectively in times of invasion. In the event of subversion against an ally the obligation of the member states was only to consult with one another; he reaffirmed the validity of the 1962 Rusk-Thanat statement. With reference to Thailand, the country was covered by SEATO defence

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planning as well as by a bilateral secret plan, ‘Project Taksin’, to counter any aggression spreading from Laos. ‘Project Taksin’ would be implemented only by the agreement of both governments. At the operational level, the USAF had concluded special arrangements with the Thai military for air defence and bomber bases.74 Later the same year, the Senate Foreign Relations Committee’s Subcommittee on United States Security Agreements examined American commitments to Thailand under SEATO. Senators criticised a secret 1967 agreement for the payment of $50 million for Thailand to send troops into Vietnam, claiming that the Thais had not done enough. Ambassador Martin, who had served in Bangkok and was providing the senators with an insight into American commitments, was asked initially if joint US-Thai operations in Vietnam ‘had enlarged the basic US-SEATO commitment’. The Ambassador replied that these activities had not done so ‘in the legal sense, but everyone was free to make his own judgment whether the kind of loyalty and help extended by one partner created “moral” commitment’. His view was that the Thais merited further backing. He also clarified that Washington’s obligations to SEATO covered the case of external communist aggression against Thailand, but ‘does not specify precisely what we should do or obligate us to provide combat support against purely internal insurgency’.75 Despite reassurances to the Thai government, the Americans were cornered by Thanat, who in a February 1970 meeting with Kissinger claimed that the SEATO provision that member states should decide on going to war ‘in accordance to their constitutional processes’ was nothing more than ‘an escape clause’. The US Embassy in Bangkok informed Washington that ‘Thanat and others remain uneasy despite repeated assurances and explanations’ of American commitments to their defence. But American diplomats were against Washington making further commitments to assuage Thai apprehensions: We see no profit for either ourselves or Thai[s] to gloss over the problem by proffering unrealistic and inflated reassurances. We can not rid SEA [South East Asia] of all conditions potentially threatening Thai security and we cannot expand our commitment to help them beyond what is stated in the SEATO treaty.76 An August 1970 study on American policy for Thailand in 1971–75 argued that the country might be needed to continue hosting USAF squadrons over the period following the Vietnam war, but it was agreed that Thailand

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was ‘not of vital interest to the United States’. However, Washington, by supporting Bangkok, showed the world that it honoured its obligations under SEATO. [Bolstering Thailand] was an element of the Asian balance of power [because] other powers gauge US intentions on the basis of the US’s performance vis-à-vis Thailand – for example our willingness to honor our commitments to Thailand – our actions in Thailand will have wider repercussions in Asia, particularly for those Asia nations such as Korea, Japan and Taiwan that rely on the US to balance the influence of China.77 The war in Vietnam was being scaled down. President Nixon was promoting the policy of Vietnamisation, while the British estimated that Hanoi was now avoiding large deployments and opting for guerrilla tactics; the Vietcong sought to avoid heavy casualties and selected their targets carefully, but at some point they, together with North Vietnam, would always want to launch a massive assault, dramatically increasing US casualties, and causing uproar in American public opinion. Meanwhile, North Vietnamese forces remained based far from the front, near the Cambodian border. British diplomats warned: ‘The communists have always fought in upsurges and lulls, so it could be misleading to read too much into the present relatively low level of activity.’78 SEATO was now of little use. Nixon’s Vietnamisation was a courageous strategy for a superpower – resisting the temptation to get involved any further in ineffectual counter-insurgency operations and, in a major shift of focus, improving relations with Russia and China. Vietnamisation meant that calls for SEATO allies to participate in operations now ceased; joint US/South Vietnamese operations against the North Vietnamese in Cambodia in AprilMay 1970 did not involve any SEATO ally. In early 1972 the Australians’ 1st Task Force eventually withdrew, and by December of that year their training mission returned home. New Zealand troops had withdrawn in November 1970, with the SAS and the artillery battery to follow in February and May 1971. P.A.G. Westlake, the UK High Commissioner in Canberra, remarked that the Australian contribution to the war had caused domestic controversy, with many young people of draft age trying to avoid national service. He assumed that the 1965 decision to send troops to Vietnam was taken simply to show support for the Americans: It would seem that most Australians have accepted as a fact of life that

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they are vulnerable; that since 1942 their ultimate security has been dependent upon the commitment and goodwill of the United States; and that these circumstances are unlikely to change. Thus there has been in the Australian participation an element of paying the instalment on life insurance. Given that Australia is in the war because the Americans are, it is hardly surprising that anything which happens to undermine American resolve has its repercussions here [in Canberra]. 79 However, differences had developed between Australians and Americans; the former boasted of their higher training standards, and were ‘inclined to criticise the Americans for using too much brawn and too little brain’, while the latter, though they admired their ally’s professionalism, blamed the Australian penchant for ‘moving too slow and cautious in their operations’ on the fear of casualties.80 In early spring 1972, the North Vietnamese surprised the Americans and Saigon by launching the Easter offensive, a campaign that lasted from 30 March to late October. It was a large-scale, three-front conventional campaign with the aim of destroying as much as possible of South Vietnamese capabilities, while the South Vietnamese counter-offensive received invaluable support from US air power. Hanoi gained much-needed territory, suffering heavy casualties, but the gains eventually boosted their negotiating position in the Paris talks. Earlier, Hanoi had been surprised by Nixon’s visit to Beijing (on 21–22 February) and the opening of SinoAmerican contacts (after hosting the Americans, Chu En-lai allegedly travelled to Hanoi to reassure the North Vietnamese leadership of China’s steadfast support).81 Also, Nixon’s 21 May visit to Moscow gave Hanoi some anxiety as to the Soviets’ real intentions. The British Embassy in Saigon, and the Consulate-General in Hanoi, dispatched their assessments to the FCO in the aftermath of the Easter offensive. T.S. Everard, the Consul-General, considered that North Vietnam had had ‘two near misses’ in 1972; the communists suffered from an ideological and organisational inflexibility that cost them military and diplomatic success. Indeed, The North Vietnamese Army was only prevented from routine superior numbers by indifferent generalship and by the hurried and massive intervention of US tactical air power, much of it rushed back to the theatre. Debacle for the South was widely forecast; at the very least so I was assured by US officials, the North Vietnamese could have taken Hue after Quang Tri, had they not hesitated.82

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Russia and Chinese continued with their immense supply of military aid to the communists in Vietnam, though the Chinese Ambassador hinted to Everard that Beijing intended to cut back on this. The same applied to Russia: the Kremlin provided Hanoi with some new surface-to-air missiles, but in the long term put more value on relations with the United States. The Soviets ‘[have] trodden carefully, counselling serious negotiations while supplying weapons generously’. The Kremlin’s military aid overshadowed China’s, but both ignored their internecine dispute ‘as far as they could, being by now well versed in keeping out of trouble’. It was deemed worth reporting that the North Vietnamese seemed to believe in their own interpretation of Leninism, being more ideologically confident.83 However, in early November 1973 (after the signing of the Paris accords) Colonel Legostaev, the Soviet Military Attaché in Hanoi, told Everard that Moscow had been exerting pressure on Hanoi to exercise restraint: ‘It had taken the Russians two years to persuade the North Vietnamese not to be “adventurists” in South Vietnam and even now they had to keep hammering away.’84 Everard was perplexed by an apparent enquiry from Legostaev: to what extent was Britain interested in investing in North Vietnam? The Soviet Attaché sounded positive about such a prospect, leaving Everard somewhat confused – he had assumed that development in North Vietnam was an area of operations open to communist countries only.85 The British Ambassador in Saigon, Brooks Richards, argued prophetically that: Although the communists have taken casualties on a very heavy scale…it is doubtful whether Thieu [the South Vietnamese President] will be able much longer to hold off an agreement in which both Hanoi and Washington see advantage but which will probably leave NVA [North Vietnamese Army] troops in considerable numbers in South Vietnam.86 ‘Vietnamisation plus US air power can be said to have saved Saigon from military defeat in 1972, but not to have defeated the North Vietnamese invaders or blunted Hanoi’s Prussian sense of purpose,’ he went on.87 ‘South Vietnam has a sporting chance of survival, but no more,’ thought C.W. Squire, the new head of the FCO’s Southeast Asia department.88 With reference to Russia and China, Richards thought that the Hanoi leadership was ‘probably disappointed at the degree of military and diplomatic support they have received from their socialist allies, particularly the Soviet

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Union’.89 This assessment contradicted intelligence on arms supplies, but identified new trends in Hanoi/Moscow/Beijing relations which had not yet been fully addressed. Nixon and Kissinger kept Prime Minister Edward Heath informed on their secret talks to end the war. The President sent messages on new US military operations – mining North Vietnamese ports – and the employment of air power. The Easter offensive had taken Kissinger by surprise, but he continued to claim that China would not intervene, and that he had received a message from a highly secret source there. This demanded that the USAF refrain from violating Chinese airspace, as one bomber had done during operations to support the South Vietnamese army. According to Kissinger: ‘This particular mode of complaint and the terms in which it was made is interpreted as signalling that the Chinese do not want to involve themselves.’90 Intelligence on the North Vietnamese stance towards China came from a report by the Danish Ambassador in Beijing, who had visited Hanoi in March, on the eve of the offensive. The Vietnamese governmentcontrolled press attacked the Sino-American contacts after Nixon’s visit in 17 articles and editorials, and many unofficial comments. Allegedly all the diplomatic corps in the city assumed that a secret deal was agreed for the Chinese to support the American negotiations with North Vietnam.91 On 8 May, with hostilities intensifying, Nixon drafted a letter to Heath explaining US reactions to the Easter offensive. He admitted that communication with Brezhnev had produced nothing meaningful, and had not restrained the North Vietnamese; he had authorised the mining of ports as well as the interdiction of any supplies heading by land or sea to North Vietnam. Foreign ships would be given a three-day period to withdraw from North Vietnamese waters. Nixon’s key terms were for Hanoi to cease hostilities, agree on an internationally supervised cease-fire and exchange prisoners of war.92 In his reply, Heath commended the effort to end the war, but noted the problems that might arise for international shipping with the mining of ports.93 He was anxious that any rapid American withdrawal could create a dangerous vacuum. In September 1972, in discussions with Japanese Foreign Minister Ohira, he aired his fears of the dangerous effect of the manner in which the United States forces were withdrawn could have on Soviet analysis of US policy in other areas, e.g. in Europe and on Japan. If the Americans left without proper arrangements and with American prisoners still in North Vietnamese hands, the Russian might conclude that the Americans

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could be induced to abandon their friends elsewhere.’94 Nixon reassured Heath that he would remain steadfast, but the latter attempted to forecast what defeat in Vietnam would mean for the rest of the alliances of which the United States was a member. Eventually, the Paris Peace Accords, signed on 27 January 1973, conceded that North Vietnam should hold the territory invaded and occupied during the Easter offensive. Washington had found an exit route from Vietnam, but the world-wide impression of an American humiliation and of the abandonment of South Vietnam to its fate could not be discounted. The Saigon government was not to receive any further meaningful American help; the last North Vietnamese offensive reached the city on 30 April 1975. The footage of the US Embassy’s panicky evacuation by helicopter and of the desperate refugees showed the world the defeat of a superpower. For Eisenhower and Dulles, the creators of SEATO and true believers in the ‘domino theory’, it would, had they lived to see it, have been an unimaginably harrowing outcome. Developments in Vietnam had made SEATO planning redundant, while in 1969 Britain announced the withdrawal of her forces from Asia by April 1971. In September 1970 the Chiefs of Staff’s assessment was that Plan 5 (SEATO counter-insurgency operations in Laos), Plan 6 (SEATO defence of South Vietnam, Laos or Cambodia against North Vietnamese aggression) and Plan 7 (counter-insurgency in South Vietnam) had been ‘overtaken by events’, while Plan 4 (defence against Chinese and North Vietnamese aggression), Plan 8 (SEATO counter-insurgency operations in Thailand) and Plan 9 (defence of Thailand against an invasion across Laos by North Vietnamese forces) remained on the contingency-plans shelf.95 Plan 9 entailed the defence of Thailand and possibly Laos, but not a counterattack on North Vietnam as in Plan 4, while Plans 4, 8 and 9 were linked to considerations of the post-April 1971 deployment of British forces in the SEATO area. The MoD sought to downgrade the UK military presence in accordance with the Labour government’s decision. Field Marshal Sir Geoffrey Baker, chief of the Army, believed that ‘from the military standpoint he could not support a declaration of any land forces’. He warned that: ‘We would be deceiving ourselves to suggest that we would maintain a credible UK land force contribution to a SEATO plan after 1971.’96 Baker appeared to be in favour of establishing, with the Australians and New Zealanders, an integrated Commonwealth brigade, but he did not specify in which SEATO plan this would figure (the MoD wanted to avoid any commitment in Plan 8). In addition, the Chiefs of Staff never lost an opportunity of repeating to Lord Carrington, the Secretary of Defence, that: ‘There was a political and

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no military case for declaring forces to Plan 4.’97 NATO was deemed the top defence priority for Britain, and no troops, resources or funds could be spared for SEATO plans, even for logistics. Also, the declaration of aircraft required a political decision: naval forces for SEATO were always double-earmarked to NATO, and this could equally well apply to medium bombers in the future. After April 1971, double earmarking was the only way to find aircraft for the SEATO plans.98 However, the new Conservative government under Edward Heath would decide to continue the declaration of forces to SEATO. The Chiefs of Staff had no wish to assign a large force to SEATO and insisted that NATO allies might suspect British policy: The effect of a substantial UK declaration to SEATO could be harmful of the UK’s influence and position within NATO as giving cause for concern as to the genuineness of the UK stated policy of giving first priority to European defence; the declaration of a small number of units, however, would be unlikely to have this effect.99 Indeed, they suggested that only a very modest force be declared (as a last resort in the face of pressure from the allies). Carrington aimed to secure political advantages from the allies, and urged a different policy: Britain making a contribution after April 1971. Sir Alec Douglas-Home, now the Foreign Secretary, sided with the Chiefs of Staff, but the Commander-inChief Far East (CINCFE) argued strongly for the necessity of a new British commitment to SEATO.100 New pressure from CINCFE on the Chiefs of Staff resulted in their acceptance of a declaration of forces for Plans 4 and 9, though remaining adamant that no declaration should be made for counter-insurgency in Thailand (Plan 8).101 They strongly feared that even a minimum declaration of forces could embroil Britain in SEATO counter-insurgency operations in Thailand in future: A UK force declaration to Plan 8 would therefore carry the risk of very considerable involvement unless the forces declared could be based and operated outside Thailand. In fact, it would be the type of automatic and open-ended commitment to counter-insurgency operations which the UK, Australia and New Zealand have been at pains to avoid in Singapore and Malaysia.102 The Chiefs of Staff also warned that any activation of Plan 4 would mean

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a general deterioration of the situation in Europe, allowing no significant British forces to be deployed in the Far East. Besides, the Americans would be of no great help in the SEATO area; the forecast was that: The United States is probably likewise both unwilling and unable to pledge adequately large forces to make this plan militarily credible. Thus the forces likely to be made available to SEATO for Plan 4 by the non-regional countries will be very much smaller than those declared which are, in any case, quite inadequate for the implementation of the plan.103 The SEATO area was effectively defenceless. Carrington issued his recommendation to Heath before the end of the year, proposing that the final declaration levels should be discussed with the Australians and New Zealanders. He made a bid for Plans 4, 8 and 9. A total of three frigates or destroyers, one submarine and sea-borne support, one battalion and up to four long-range maritime reconnaissance aircraft would be declared for Plans 4 and 9. For Plan 8 up to four such aircraft would be assigned; no commitment whatsoever would be made for ground forces or logistics support. The Secretary of Defence assured the Prime Minister that the declaration with respect to maritime aircraft ‘carries little risk of any deeper involvement in a Vietnam-type situation in Thailand’; this accommodated the position of the Chiefs of Staff – that any involvement in counter-insurgency be avoided. Carrington asked for more time to consider a possible declaration of nuclear-armed Vulcan bombers for Plan 4; but by 1970 Britain had withdrawn all its nuclear weapons from the Far East, and disbanded their special storage facilities; there was no case for the Americans to share their own facilities with the British.104 Meanwhile, the Australians had grown assertive towards the British policy of reducing commitments. They questioned the JIC threat assessments, making it an unpleasant experience for British delegates to attend the SEATO conference which examined the estimates. At the November 1970 SEATO intelligence committee the rest of the allies treated the British as the ‘odd man out’. The meeting was at times ‘so acrimonious’ that some feared that ‘it might have compromised our intelligence relationship with the Australians’. S.W. Squire confided that: Theoretically it would be open to us to back down and to ‘liberalise’ our assessments to bring them closer to the Australian. This would mean in fact taking a more pessimistic line on political and military

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developments in South East Asia than we believe is supported by an objective reading of available intelligence. We assume that this option has been considered and rightly rejected. The fact that we are now retaining a permanent military presence in the Far East underlines the need for the SEATO assessment of developments in the area to be as objective as possible. And military presence itself gives us that much more weight in putting our views across.105 Of course, the arrangement for one-to-one meetings with the Australians, prior to alliance consultations, could ‘remove the sharpness of the exchanges in the SEATO environment’.106 SEATO was meaningless, and Britain was justifiably uninterested in boosting it. The main argument was not only concerned with reducing defence spending – there was no strategic imperative. Hanoi had won its war, but détente between the USA, Russia and China helped any real threat of general war in the area to recede considerably. Planning was reduced to academic exercises, but Carrington grasped the necessity for a political gesture to the Commonwealth, and wisely opted for the continuation of the declaration of forces. On the other hand, the assessment of the Chiefs of Staff had merit. Plans for general war represented far-fetched scenarios. In addition, any plan involving counter-insurgency should be avoided; Thailand should not become another Vietnam. The Cold War experience showed that while strategic confrontations and full-scale invasions were very rare episodes, communist insurgencies could grow like mushrooms; and the British should be perceptive enough to avoid committing themselves to new jungle counter-insurgency operations, and should produce accurate assessments even if this led to quarrels in alliance conferences.

6 The Shah and CENTO

For London and Washington the defence of Iran was the epicentre of CENTO’s mission. Tehran had broken with a tradition of neutralism in joining the Baghdad Pact, and the Shah remained obsessed with foreign aid, pressing for more. He cared only for expanding his armed forces, not for boosting, militarily or institutionally the Baghdad Pact, nor later CENTO. In the 1960s the so-called ‘independent foreign policy’ and ‘positive nationalism’ of Iran, with the accompanying increase in contacts with Russia, was incompatible with CENTO membership, but Washington did not press hard so as not to lose the Shah and to avoid itself being asked to join CENTO as a full member. In addition, Iran increased the pressure for Arab nationalism to be identified as a threat to CENTO; Britain and the United States absolutely opposed this, continually repeating that CENTO’s role was only to deal with communist threats. Until the mid1960s Iran was outpaced militarily by the other allies, Turkey and Pakistan, and was considered the weak link. Meanwhile, no forces were declared to the alliance by any of the regional members. The 1965 Indo-Pakistani war, and the refusal of President Johnson to come to the aid of Pakistan under the auspices of CENTO, accelerated the Shah’s penchant for improving relations with Russia, fearing more of Nasser’s aspirations in the Middle East. The monarch sounded suspicious of the real value of the alliance. He always bargained hard (even attempting to blackmail Washington) to obtain military aid, which he did not really need; the truth was that since the Eisenhower administration Iran had not faced any real Russian threat (either by invasion or subversion), a fact admitted by American and British planners as well as (occasionally and in secret) by the Shah himself. CENTO was called to defend a country under no threat; a country asking for more arms, but unwilling to commit forces to CENTO; a monarch obsessed with modern weaponry, who delayed necessary socio-economic reform. The close

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US-Iranian connection overshadowed CENTO, and London was content with this. CENTO was to remain a ‘paper tiger’. Iran was to play an important role in the American policy of containment. The return of the Shah, with the backing of Anglo-American intelligence in 1953, facilitated this. The important role meant that Washington would provide an initial arms and economic-aid programme, but would not neither accelerate it nor accede to the Shah’s demands for more. By early 1955, American strategy envisioned the Iranian military holding a line in the Zagros mountains in the event of a Soviet invasion, though their mission would entail only a delaying defence. The Pentagon had not agreed, however, on the overall defence role Iran would play in the region, and warned that the underdeveloped Iranian economy could suffer greatly from increased defence spending in the near future. Washington was eager to continue with training programmes, and after their completion to increase its military aid in accordance with the trainers’ reports of Iranian military performance and the efficient employment of modern doctrine and technology. The State Department urged that training should come first, and only then be followed by additional supplies of weaponry. The Department of Defense and the JCS insisted that aid to Iran should follow a defence-requirements study of the entire region (which would take time). This meant that Iran would have to be listed in the US defence priorities related to global American commitments.1 Indeed, the Americans were reluctant to give more aid to Tehran, despite the fact that Iran, as a northern-tier state, could block any Russian advance. Limited stocks of available weapons and a scarcity of funds were the key reasons the Pentagon cited to delay the arming of Iran.2 The Shah, having abandoned his country’s neutralist foreign-policy tradition, was keen to talk with Eisenhower on regional strategy, development and additional arms aid. The JCS reiterated that the amount and rate of military aid to Iran should be ‘controlled’ by a number of conditions, ‘in the light of US worldwide commitments and duly established priorities’. Admiral Radford, the JCS chairman, argued that the key countries for the defence of the Middle East were, at least for the time being, Turkey and Pakistan. Both competed to obtain more arms, but they maintained credible defence capabilities, which Iran did not. In addition, the Turks and the Pakistanis did not appear to trust the Iranians’ defence potential in the event of a Soviet invasion, and Radford shaped a proposal for Iran to be defended by the transfer of Pakistani units (expanded via additional US aid) to Zagros, or elsewhere. The admiral advised that ‘it would take a little time’ to define Iran’s role in the Middle East, which process would also take into consideration the conclusions of American, British and Turkish

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military planners’ discussions in Washington.3 The Shah pressed for more aid, proposing to set up defence installations in the Zagros area, while complaining that Turkey and Pakistan were getting more from Washington than his country was.4 Dulles and the Pentagon proved pragmatic. Iran was not facing any threat of a Russian invasion, and communist subversion was of limited potential since the Shah’s regime was protected by its expanding security services. What caused concern was Moscow’s intention of approaching the Shah. The Russians had already signed an agreement with Iran, on 2 December 1954, agreeing to pay reparations of $21 million in respect of gold they had confiscated during the 1941–46 Anglo-Russian occupation, as well as giving back disputed border territory. They exerted no pressure, and readily signed up to these ‘generous terms’.5 Dulles sought to caution the Shah about Russian’s friendly overtures. A secret invitation to the monarch to visit Moscow left the Secretary of State worried that Tehran was flirting once again with neutralism. However, he admitted that: It is not possible at this time to make a definitive estimate of the specific role that Iran would play in a northern tier defense system … [but] for political reasons, it appears imperative that a start [in accelerating the aid programme] be made in the very near future. He was working towards a $50-million military package for 1956–57, to persuade the Shah that Washington was addressing Iranian needs.6 His brother Allen Dulles, the CIA Director, had concluded that the Shah was ‘a sensitive and mercurial individual’ and that only continuous military aid could keep him within the Western camp.7 Keeping the Shah happy would prove a frustrating business for pragmatic American and British officials. In entering the Baghdad collective-security pact, he was asking Washington for a ‘prior assurance’ that it would provide ‘sufficient military assistance to enable Iran to play a significant part in Middle East defence’. But the Pentagon delayed, aiming first for a thorough evaluation of the Iranian armed forces’ capabilities, as well as for the drafting of its overall Middle East defence strategy.8 In early autumn, the US Embassy in Tehran complained that American policy on Iran was suffering from a serious contradiction: on the one hand the Shah was urged to join the Baghdad Pact, while on the other there was a delay in taking the necessary decisions on military aid to turn Iran into a credible ally. Ambassador Selden Chapin stated that ‘we are moving

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either too rapidly on Pact or too slowly’ in aid.9 Something had to be done, because Russia ‘is showing unexpected conciliation in settling differences and making friendly overtures, early adherence [of Iran to the Baghdad Pact without proper arms aid] in our present weak condition, might provoke hostile reaction and dangerous retaliation.’ However, under the Baghdad Pact Washington was not obliged to come to the aid of Turkey or Iraq if they were invaded, a fact that would make the Shah suspicious of the Americans’ real plans in the event of general war.10 (The obligation to Turkey depended on the NATO treaty.) Dulles was not keen to give the Shah all he had asked for, the Iranians having a reputation for being ‘very astute traders and bargainers’, and it was clear that they were not under any real Russian military threat.11 The Pentagon did not feel it expedient to rush aid, but rather advocated calmly examining the evolving concept of northern-tier defence. Washington was unwilling to pay large sum for Tehran’s entry to the pact, and thus Ambassador Chapin was informed that: Although US favours Iranian accession [to] Baghdad Pact extreme financial stringency which has developed in recent months, plus increased evidence [of ] Shah’s desire [to] make accession contingent on large US commitments, compel US [to] move slowly [in] order to counteract GOI [Government of Iran] inclination [to] put increasing price tags on accession … for financial reasons we are unable to increase dollar aid substantially to any country simply because of adherence to the Baghdad Pact.12 Eden agreed with the American stance towards Tehran. Back in September 1954 he had approved the general policy of bringing Iran into the then Turco-Pakistani pact, but with neither Britain paying ‘the price of a direct military commitment’ to Iran nor provoking Russia. London was aware of the Iranians’ low military capabilities, and as of May 1955 the British estimate was that the Iranian forces were at present quite incapable of putting up any resistance at all to a Russian attack; even if they were, the civil administration would almost certainly collapse at the first sign of such an attack and the Shah possibly would flee the country. 13 If Iran joined the Baghdad Pact it would be of little military use to its new allies, while their war plans might be compromised in Iranian hands. There

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was a purely political advantage in Iran’s accession to the pact: it would look more like a regional collective-defence agreement, and in due course might thus attract neighbouring countries like Jordan, Lebanon, and later even Syria and Egypt. It was an improbable suggestion, reflecting some confusion as to Egyptian aspirations. In any case, Britain ‘while continuing to favour Persian adherence [ought] not to press for it or to pay any high price for it’.14 The Shah made another bid, urging a top-level conference between Iraq, Turkey, Pakistan, Britain and the United States to discuss Iran’s defence as a precondition to joining the pact; but Washington and London would have none of it. The Western powers did not wish to attend a conference and come under pressure to make commitments to the defence of Iran. The monarch could proceed to discuss matters with Pakistan, Turkey and Iraq.15 Besides, at any such conference as the one proposed the rest of the allies could interpret the Anglo-American stance towards Iran as an overall lack of willingness to defend any of them. Eventually, the Shah realised that he should not press for more, and on 8 October 1955 announced to the Iranian senate that his country would join the Baghdad Pact. This caused an anticipated Russian verbal assault on Iran for working ‘contrary to good Soviet-Iranian relations’ and existing treaty provisions, but in Washington failed to prompt fears of a serious crisis.16 Among the Eisenhower administration there was no consensus on what to do over Iran. John Hollister, director of the International Cooperation Administration in the State Department, warned that: ‘We seem to be in the position of starting a large construction and relocation programme without specific determination that this is the programme which the US finds in our interest.’17 Ambassador Chapin was informed that Molotov, the Soviet Foreign Minister, had proposed to Tehran that the 1927 Soviet-Iranian nonaggression pact be replaced by a guarantee of Iran’s neutrality, signed by the four great powers. His main condition was that Iran should leave the Baghdad Pact; this was another diplomatic initiative to shake the Shah’s confidence in the West, building on his frustration at not being provided with all the aid he had asked for. The Iranian Foreign Minister, Ardalan, bargained for the renewal of US economic assistance as a ‘counterweight’ to the Russian proposal.18 Dulles wanted to corner the constantly complaining Shah and directed the US Ambassador in Tehran to tell the monarch he should cease asking for US adherence to the Baghdad Pact, because he had not been given any assurances in this respect at the time Iran acceded to the pact. Global and Middle East priorities compelled Washington not to join, but to work for smooth cooperation between the regional partners. Besides,

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what the Russians offered was already addressed by the UN Charter, and the ‘very proposal shows Soviets still entertain concept of right of great powers to guide destiny of small nations,’ remarked Dulles.19 Obviously, Moscow had been attempting to ‘create a false sense of security’, so that Iran would cut its ties with the West.20 The Shah claimed that he had just been ‘cultivating friendly relations’ with the Russians, and complained after his trip that since Iran’s accession to the Baghdad Pact ‘he had the impression’ that American aid was reduced. A cunning bargainer, he reminded his donors of ‘the advantages being gained by the neutrals from “playing both sides of the street”’.21 By July 1956 an interdepartmental committee of the Eisenhower administration had estimated that the Iranian military could provide ‘limited resistance against aggression, but is not capable of sustained combat against Russian aggression’. Iran should raise eight light-infantry divisions, four light-infantry armoured divisions and five infantry brigades, together with 11 warships and five air-force squadrons, so as to be capable of mounting this ‘limited resistance’ to a Soviet invasion. The upgraded Iranian military, backed by US air power and logistics, ‘might hold back 15–20 Russian divisions at the Zagros Passes for 30 days’.22 The Pentagon sought to examine Iran’s defence planning against such an invasion with the Shah’s generals, but no actual commitments of US forces would be revealed in advance.23 The Shah and the other regional Muslim leaders found themselves in a difficult position in November 1956, with the Anglo-French-Israeli intervention in Suez. None liked Nasser, but they could not appear to be mere pawns of the West. The Shah consulted initially with the President of Pakistan, and called for a regional leaders’ conference on 7 November in Tehran; the Prime Ministers of Turkey (the most hesitant to criticise the British), Pakistan and Iraq attended. They ‘condemned the aggression committed by Israel’ and ‘deplored the armed intervention’ of the AngloFrench forces and ‘considered their attack to be inconsistent’ with the principles of the UN charter.24 At that time London had to concern itself with the future of Anglo-American relations; Eisenhower had been much angered by Eden’s secret plan to take over the Suez Canal. ‘In principle’ London was prepared ‘to accept’ the communiqué of the Tehran conference, but certain ‘modifications’ were ‘suggested’. British diplomats put pressure on the regional leaders not to issue a strong statement; they drafted amendments to the phrasing, point by point, that were eventually adopted. Finally, they reminded the regional leaders that the amendments proposed

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stem from the feeling that the original draft [of the communiqué] goes too far in the direction of condemning the United Kingdom and France and bringing comfort and support to Nasser, who has after all been the main enemy of the Baghdad Pact since its inception. Moreover the tone of the draft is inconsistent with the past pressure by us on our allies to stand up to the Egyptian policy of weakening the Baghdad Pact wherever possible throughout the area.25 It was a useful tactical ploy to turn the Suez intervention into a Baghdad Pact issue; it facilitated the toning-down of the communiqué, and urged the regional leaders to take Nasser as a threat to the Pact. (But as will be seen below, in the coming years London contradicted this approach and, discouraged the Shah from considering Nasser’s Egypt a threat to CENTO.) Some two months later, in early February 1957, the American defenceplanning assumptions on Iran were redrafted. Eisenhower took a positive view of using the Elburz Mountains as a line of defence against aggression, rather than the Zagros range. Admiral Radford concurred with the suggestion, saying that he had overflown these areas, and ‘he believed that the Elburz mountain line [was] superior to the Zagros line’.26 In any case, planning had to take into consideration the character of the Shah. Thomas A. Cassilly, Second Secretary at the US Embassy in Tehran, compiled a study of the Shah’s attitudes and behaviour. The ruler of Iran, he concluded, was an insecure man with no ability for making firm decisions: He is reluctant to face up to a strong ‘yes’ or ‘no’. People who have had to work with His Majesty tend to agree that if he were suddenly faced with the need for a rapid, clear-cut decision (such as what to do in the event of invasion), the Shah would probably fail to rise to the occasion. 27 The monarch was well aware of the corruption amongst his officers, but – to avoid alienating them – failed to take action. In parallel: [He] not only believes that he is a superior soldier, but American military authorities report that he does actually have a good grasp of strategy. In the event of invasion, he is likely to insist on assuming personal command of the armed forces. Considering his lack of forcefulness, however, it is doubtful whether the King would prove to be much of a military asset in a crisis unless he were backed by a firm

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[less than one line of source text not declassified] officer.28 The rise of Arab nationalism under Nasser provoked the Shah’s fears, to the extent of asking in autumn 1957 for defence assets reaching a total value of $500 million. The monarch submitted an extravagant list: 2000 jet fighters and ‘weapons with atomic capability and a greatly enlarged navy’. He personally called for the building of an airfield at Qom (some 80 miles south-west of Tehran). It was his ‘cherished desire’, to boost his domestic prestige. But the Pentagon’s assessment was that this project (which would have cost $6.5 million) was of ‘low military priority’.29 Ambassador Chapin was frustrated after all his discussions with the Shah, who had already raised Iran’s claims to ‘the recovery of its rightful sovereignty over Bahrain’. The monarch asked for Nike and Honest John missiles, ignoring the argument put forward that they were supplied to Turkey only because it was a NATO ally.30 Chapin wrote that: The situation [in discussions on military aid] is complicated by [the fact] that Shah’s interest in military forces is in part emotional rather than logical. We can never really hope to convince Shah that any given level [of ] military forces will be adequate to what he imagines are his requirements. His personal psychological bias renders him immune to logical persuasion in this field.31 Meanwhile, the Russians continued their diplomatic flirtation with Tehran. Their broadcasts were ‘constantly praising the Shah and the regime and hinting attractive economic terms’. The Shah and the advisors in his court ‘believe themselves to be far more clever than the Russians and feel they can play around the trap [of friendly gestures] without springing it if they wish to take necessary risk’.32 Dealing with the Shah meant that the Americans had again to repeat their positions on defence and economics. Eisenhower reiterated that a larger military meant higher costs for maintenance, and these costs would not be covered by Washington.33 Dulles was angry with ‘the military obsessions’ of the Shah, ‘who considers himself a military genius’ seeking perhaps eventually to dominate the Baghdad Pact. High defence spending would only ‘further unbalance an already unbalanced [Iranian] budget’.34 In his turn, the Shah complained that Washington ‘took him for granted’, deprived him of essential aid while giving it to India (which had attended the 1955 Bandung conference boosting non-alignment; the Non-Alignment Movement (NAM) would be officially established with the Belgrade summit in 1961).35

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Commenting on Iranian policy in late May 1958, Ambassador Chapin remarked that the Shah recognised Russian ambitions, but Soviet soft tactics and propaganda ‘complicated his problems of maintaining popular alertness to [the] communist threat’. The monarch seemed to have ‘an inflated idea of his cleverness and skill’ in talking with the Russians, and ‘may from time to time make unwise arrangements with them’. The Ambassador called for the Shah to be disabused [by the USA] of the idea that US has any obligation or for that matter intention of providing for Iranian forces at levels that may from time to time be discussed in Baghdad Pact military planning committees.36 Indeed: I have consistently attempted to refute [the] Shah’s notion that staff level discussions in Baghdad somehow commit US to support for specific levels of Iranian forces. But his own advisors tell him differently and he always has the feeling that there is a higher court of appeal in Washington.37 The JCS developed a concept for the defence of the Erzerum line in East Turkey, the approaches to Cairo-Suez-Aden and the Gulf, as well as the Elburz line; it was identical to the Baghdad Pact defence contingency, with a fall-back line in the Zagros Mountains. A key role would be played by the regional forces, and their stand would be supported by US strategic air power and ‘US atomic-capable ground and tactical air forces as may be deployed in the area’. There were differences between the American and the Iranian plan, which were to be kept secret from the Shah. The American plan envisioned the defence of Azerbaijan and the Elburz north of Tehran ‘at the expense of Eastern Iran’, since ‘there are no major strategic objectives in Eastern Iran and a Soviet offensive there would not have any major impact on the success of the defence of the Baghdad Pact area’. Long lines of communication and their vulnerability to aerial bombing ‘make a strong defence of Eastern Iran near the Soviet frontier militarily infeasible, as it is logistically unsupportable’.38 A full defence of Iranian territory was out of the question for Pentagon planners, who did not allocate specific forces for the defence of the Middle East in the event of all-out war. Most significantly, they had assumed that prior to the start of a war the available US forces would be primarily nuclear-capable, being composed of six nuclear demolition teams, 18 teams for firing nuclear munitions employing Iranian, Iraqi and Pakistani artillery, eight special-

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forces teams, three fighter-bomber squadrons, a fighter-refuelling squadron, two fighter-interception squadrons, a reconnaissance squadron, a troopcarrier squadron, an aircraft control-and-warning group, four destroyers and a command ship.39 The JCS recommended not upgrading Iranian forces, but keeping them at their current level with respect to their objectives, since ‘it is not feasible to build up Iranian forces so that they can resist successfully large-scale Soviet aggression’.40 The 14 July 1958 coup in Iraq, and the confusion that erupted in London and Washington as to what their reaction should be, proved a golden opportunity for the Shah to advance his requests for increased military aid. On 15 July, in a conversation with the American Chargé d’Affaires in Tehran, he claimed that ‘arms are life or death to Iran now’, warning that the Baghdad Pact’s defence plans were now known to Nasser and Russia. Eisenhower had to calm the monarch’s fears, sending a letter on 19 July to reassure him of America’s commitment to the defence of his country and urging ‘collective security planning’. Arms aid was on the way, since the President had decided that ‘the delivery of a wide range of equipment for your present forces be further accelerated, and I am prepared to provide your armed forces with additional training’.41 It was a delicately-worded letter, which avoided commitment to a new arms programme; indeed, the Pentagon was reacting to a proposal from Tehran to increase the Iranian forces. The State Department agreed that it was not necessary to provide Iran and Turkey with more arms for the time being.42 Eventually the additional military aid to the Shah was token in nature: 17 M47 tanks, 133,000 rifles and 16 eight-inch howitzers, amounting to only $14 million.43 By 26 July 1958 the Shah was sounding more confident and pragmatic: ‘He seemed to realise that the new [Iraqi] regime was not yet entirely sold out to Nasser or Communism,’ remarked the British Ambassador in Tehran. The Shah had enquired as to the possibility of increasing Iranian influence, and the Ambassador added that: [The Shah’s] mind is running on what Iraq can retrieve from the present untidiness. For instance, he disclosed a sneaking hope that there might be a cut-back in Iraqi oil production also in Kuwait which would benefit Iranian production. He hoped that the oil companies would, in future, lay their money where bets were safe.44 The JCS and the State Department, meanwhile, considered that the mission of the Baghdad Pact remained unaltered, focusing as it did on defence against a Soviet invasion from the north.45 General Nathan Twining, the

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chairman of the JCS, was sure that ‘no change [in defence planning] was required by the defection of Iraq’. Christian Herter, the Acting Secretary of State, agreed.46 By the end of summer, the CIA had developed fears of a coup against the Shah, on the Iraqi pattern. A plot among his generals had been uncovered some months earlier; now a new plot might be in the making. Meanwhile, the Shah continued to attract criticism of his closeness to corrupt officials, and a number of junior officers were disgruntled with a monarch who abstained from any meaningful socio-economic reforms. Washington had to convince him to make such reforms while ‘there was yet time’. Allen Dulles, the CIA Director, seemed unworried about the Shah in the short term, but acknowledged that his regime provoked public discontent.47 This and the sudden demise of the Iraqi royal family prompted contingency planning for a coup in Iran, including the assassination of the Shah. William Runtree, the Assistant Secretary of State for Near Eastern and South Asian Affairs, wrote to Dulles that in such an event ‘we should do what we can to promote a friendly stable government with the capability and determination to resist Soviet pressures … we do not envisage direct intervention by American military forces [to save the present regime]’.48 In late autumn, during discussions on American military support in the event of an invasion of Iran (considered hypothetical and most unlikely), the acting chairman of the JCS, General Maxwell Taylor, pointed out that in accordance with established US policy (and despite changes in the wording of the Baghdad Pact planning text, from ‘outside air and logistic support’ to ‘outside support’ to be provided to the member states), any decision to help Iran and to assign even US ground forces rested only with the President at times of crisis.49 In any case, intelligence showed no ‘immediate threat’, whether from Russia, Iraq or Afghanistan. The key security problem was with the regime in Iran: the ‘chief threat’ to American interests was Iranians’ dissatisfaction with the Shah, and its probable exploitation by the Soviets through propaganda and subversion,50 while the Shah’s initiative to establish an ‘Aryan Union’ (parallel to CENTO), with Pakistan, Afghanistan and Turkey in a mutual defence pact, failed at the first hurdle.51 In early 1959 a US-Iranian crisis erupted with the Shah apparently attempting to blackmail the Americans – unless he was given more arms he would sign a new non-aggression treaty with Moscow. Eisenhower, in a telephone conversation with Dulles, voiced his irritation with the Shah, who ‘instead of taking a firm position and doing things right … is engaging in blackmail’. Both men agreed that they would ‘not play that way’. The President sent a letter to the Shah affirming American interest in his country

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as well as warning him of Moscow’s hostile intent, referring to the cases of Latvia, Lithuania, Estonia, Finland and Poland – all countries which had signed non-aggression pacts with the Kremlin, and then had essentially fallen victim to Russian manipulation.52 At the US Embassy in Tehran there were few admirers of the Iranian monarch. Ambassador Edward Wailes was convinced that: ‘The Shah’s motive in entering negotiations with USSR was primarily blackmail for more US aid and resentment against what he believes to have been US niggardliness and unfairness over the years regarding aid.’53 The crisis ended on 10 February, when it was announced that the Iranian-Russian negotiations had been broken off, because the Soviets had exerted pressure on Iran to withdraw from the Baghdad Pact, and not to come to an agreement with Washington on aid (an agreement which was due to be signed in two weeks’ time). At the last meeting of the two sides, Russian diplomats had showed themselves ‘insulting, abusive’ and even threatening towards the Iranians. However, Allen Dulles was not alarmed – intelligence indicated that Russia would not ‘undertake direct military action’ against Iran in retaliation.54 In the coming months hostile propaganda was broadcast by the Kremlin, and only Herter worried that the Russians might not be bluffing.55 The harsh Russian reaction showed that Moscow now took the Baghdad Pact seriously enough (though in fact with little justification) to have tried to persuade Iran to withdraw from the alliance. The Shah did not please the Russians, and had also abrogated articles 5 and 6 of the 1921 treaty with Moscow (i.e. those prohibiting the deployment of third-country forces in Iran, and giving Russian forces the right to enter Iranian territory in self-defence).56 On 5 March 1959, the Shah went ahead to sign bilateral a defence and security agreement with Washington, and on 10 May he met Macmillan at Chequers. The Prime Minister inquired about the so-called threat posed to Iran by Afghanistan (as proclaimed earlier by the Shah). The monarch admitted that the threat ‘was not immediate’, and voiced optimism on Iran’s prospects of becoming a regional leader. The offer of two Royal Navy destroyers was rejected, on the grounds that they were old. Macmillan pointed out that since the Americans had been the only arms suppliers to Tehran this should continue, with the British supplying support equipment like radars.57 There was some anxiety about post-coup Iraq, the Shah arguing that it would be better to have a communist Iraq (isolated by her neighbours) than a Nasserist Iraq. But Baghdad could not threaten Tehran, at least for the time being. The concept of war by proxy was then touched upon by Macmillan, who argued that in such a case the armed forces of Iran should be trained in countering riots and incursions, in parallel to the

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doctrines of conventional war. The Shah found himself trapped in his own argument on wars by proxies, replying vaguely that his military would have a morale problem if they were capable of fighting only tribes and dissidents, rather than the Russians.58 Earlier the same day, Macmillan had had a private meeting with him; he wrote later that: [The Shah] did not seem to be very much concerned about the Afghanistan position, and did not believe the Russians would venture on anything like a full-scale invasion of Persia. He was much more concerned about war by proxy or war by subversion. 59 The Prime Minister’s impression of his visitor was that: He is not an easy man to influence. He is not exactly vain, indeed his whole demeanour is modest and he speaks without emphasis or bombast, but should judge that he is obstinate, and believes in his star. He will also get everything he can by any means he can out of us and out of the Americans. I would think that occasional flirtations with Russia could be one of the methods he would continue to adopt.60 By the end of December 1959 the ruler of Iran conceded that he did not expect aggression from Russia, but from either Iraq or Afghanistan, acting as its proxy. He asked Eisenhower for a ‘crash programme’ of military aid so as to be capable of deploying ‘highly mobile forces with atomic weapons, long-range missiles, additional air bases, effective anti-aircraft missiles and improved aircraft’. He had his eye on the Nike, Honest John and Corporal missiles.61 The Pentagon found this request unwelcome. John N. Irwin II, the Assistant Secretary of Defense for International Security Affairs, warned Merchant, Under-Secretary at the State Department, that: The Shah has overstated the threat from these two countries. Further, the Shah has apparently used his overstated threat as the basis for his request for military assistance which is not only excessive but is also beyond his capacity to use effectively.62 The JCS estimated that the Iranian armed forces in their present state could deal with aggression from Iraq or Afghanistan. Besides, ‘although the military capabilities of Iraq and Afghanistan can be expected to increase with Soviet aid, it is unlikely that their capabilities will increase to such an extent as

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would constitute a serious military threat to Iran.’ In addition the Iranian membership of the newly constituted CENTO ‘provides a measure of security against aggression’. Irwin was concerned that a further increase in military aid to Iran could create balance of power problems within CENTO: ‘From the Defense point of view the creation of the kind of military concentration proposed [by the Shah] would confront us with an unbalanced situation in the CENTO area which would be hard to deal with.’63 On 27 May 1960 a generals’ coup in Turkey, following after the Iraqi coup, heightened the Shah’s concerns about his own future, as well as reinvigorating the activities of the dissidents seeking to oust him. Meanwhile, relations with the incoming administration of John F. Kennedy would not be as close as with the previous administration. But the Shah was growing more confident as Iranian oil exports and revenues increased, as were his ambitions to turn his country into a leader in the Gulf. He seemed also to believe in rumours that Washington would view his removal in a positive light – his successor would then implement the necessary socio-economic reforms. Indeed, Kennedy pressed for democratisation and development, and the insecure Shah could not hide his anger. In April 1962, during his visit in Washington, the monarch told the surprised Kennedy and Dean Rusk, the Secretary of State, that: ‘We [the Iranians] are not your stooges.’64 He continued to assess Nasser, rather than Moscow, as a menace – the latter had by that time adopted a conciliatory policy towards Tehran.65 On 15 September 1962 the Shah announced that he would not permit CENTO allies’ missiles based in his country to target Russia; in 1959 he had already inhibited the deployment of Thor missiles in Iran, much to Moscow’s satisfaction. Chairman Nikita Khrushchev had considered for years that Iran was ‘a rotten plum’ heading for revolution because of the people’s poverty and the ruling elite’s corruption; the communist Tudeh party had no potential, but misery could bring about the fall of the Shah.66 Meanwhile, the CIA and the rest of the intelligence community drafted a special estimate on the Soviet threat to Iran and the CENTO area. The estimate was concluded in October 1961, shortly after the leakage by Moscow of a cache of authentic CENTO documents that showed some planning for nuclear retaliation involving the northern tier countries in case of general war. Nonetheless, the intelligence community maintained that: ‘The USSR’s longstanding campaign against CENTO arises essentially from Soviet political ambitions in the Middle East, rather than from concern over the alleged military threat of CENTO.’67 The Unites States could provoke Russia to launch a campaign to overthrow the Shah, if American

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commitments for the defence of the country were increased, short of deploying US forces. In such an outcome Russian covert action to oust the Shah was more or less certain. But US intelligence reassured the President that ‘the USSR would not go so far as to take military action against Iran’.68 Only if US troops were stationed in Iran would the Russians examine the invasion option, assessing the strength and the role of US forces there – in an extreme case, including the occupation of some northern territories of the country.69 In essence, what the intelligence community suggested as a policy could be summarised as : ‘Keep Iran’s defence modest so as not to provoke Russia: weakness in effect averts the threat.’ In his turn, the Shah judged that he had sent a clear message to Washington not to take him for granted or to corner him on the question of reforms. In November 1963 Leonid Brezhnev (soon to become chairman of the USSR) paid a visit to Tehran, and the following year a trade agreement was signed. In parallel, the establishment of the so-called ‘White Revolution’, a package of socio-economic and political reforms (but including no essential democratisation), concluded with Kennedy congratulating the Shah on his (long-awaited) initiative. After Kennedy’s assassination, the State Department and the Pentagon briefed President Johnson that Iran was threatened with internal subversion due to the Shah’s policies; meanwhile, Iran’s relations with Moscow were fast being normalised. By early 1964 the Shah was speaking out on the ‘Arab threat’, citing subversive activities in oil-rich Khuzistan and asking for more arms under the Military Assistance Programme then being negotiated with Washington. The recently-established Defense Intelligence Agency (DIA) played down any fears of Egypt, Syria and Iraq being drawn into war against Tehran: ‘Current circumstances made concerted military action against Iran unlikely.’70 Meanwhile, [Iran] was not fully satisfied [with CENTO] … it has been irritated by the refusal of the US and the UK to consider alleged threats from non-communists regional states as falling within the purview of the alliance and has suspected the US at times of having only a lukewarm interest in this pact.71 For a moment, on hearing news of a plan for the signature of a non-aggression pact between NATO and the Warsaw Pact, the Shah felt ‘acutely worried’ that he would be left isolated. He proposed that CENTO should also be included in such an agreement, but this eventually failed to materialise.72

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Johnson learnt from his National Security Council staff that: Though we have kept telling the Shah that his real problems are internal not external, and that reform is first on the agenda, he keeps reverting to the military toys he loves. We have convinced him there is not much chance of Soviet attack, so now he is talking up an Arab threat … he runs scared of Nasser.73 Back in London, the MoD stated that: ‘It is common ground between us and the Shah that the threat of overt Soviet aggression had receded.’ Being seduced by modern military technology and his oil profits, the ruler of Iran personally got involved in negotiations to obtain a Hawk missile battery and new M-60 tanks, as well as F-4 Phantoms and C-130s.74 Obviously the Shah’s ‘rapidly growing oil revenues have gone to his head’, and Washington had to accommodate him simply because if it did not he would simply go elsewhere to buy arms.75 Walt Rostow, the President’s Special Assistant for National Security Affairs, argued that ‘our best bet is to try to control his buying by selling ourselves’, while in 1967 Robert McNamara, the Secretary of Defense, gave an encouraging estimate for the American military industry, Wall Street stockbrokers investing in the defence industry would have loved it: ‘Our sales [to Iran] have created about 1.4 million man-years of employment in the US and over $1 billion in profits to American industry over the last five years.’76 But accommodating Iran did not include supplying destroyers, motor torpedo-boats or F-111s. The Shah became increasingly interested in the security of the Gulf (and the projection of Iranian power), as opposed to the ground forces deployed in the north of his country.77 However, the British warned that if the Shah felt that the Americans had addressed all his needs via a bilateral security guarantee (as the 1959 agreement, the later military-assistance programmes and the agreement for status of forces could possibly be interpreted) ‘he might be tempted to jettison CENTO.’ This suggestion failed to alarm Rusk, who saw no reason why Tehran should abandon the alliance; the Shah should be content with the guarantee stipulated in 1959 that stated: ‘In case of aggression against Iran’ the US government, in accordance with its constitution, would take such appropriate action, including use of armed forces, as may be mutually agreed upon and as is envisaged in Joint Resolution to Promote Peace and Stability in the Middle East, in order to assist Government of Iran as its request.78 By the end of August 1965, the Shah again disclosed his negative assessment

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of CENTO, and aired his confidence that Russia posed no threat to his country. In fact, ‘he tried to write off current Soviet attention to Turkey, Iran, Afghanistan and Pakistan as “series of coincidences”… Major Soviet purpose was … to have friendly cordon of states around Soviet Union.’ Besides, Moscow worried about the influence of China in the long term. For the Shah CENTO was ‘moribund’, a ‘masquerade that meets to little effect every six months’, but he hesitated to leave it. He disclosed that in talks during his Moscow visit, the Russian leaders told him that they ‘did not like’ the alliance. Attempting to show statesmanship, he replied controversially: ‘He would be glad to see it terminated when all other pacts are terminated, e.g. NATO, Warsaw pact etc. He said he told Soviets they had little to fear militarily from CENTO.’ The Russians offered him a new non-aggression pact, but he simply avoided discussing it further.79 The Indo-Pakistani war in September 1965 was another factor shaping the Shah’s assessment of CENTO’s value. He referred to the Pakistani President Ayub Khan, who had criticised the alliance as ‘useless’ because Pakistan received no meaningful help. The Shah was now sounding a more nationalist note, seeking to avoid charges of being an ‘American stooge’, while simultaneously pressing for the purchase of air-defence weapons.80 His personality, while remaining insecure, ‘undergoes steady metamorphosis,’ remarked Ambassador Meyer from Tehran. The fate of South-Vietnamese President Diem (murdered in 1963), and the lack of US support for Pakistan during the war with India, led to him making parallels with his own case. The Americans might not come to his aid in times of crisis, or might even constrain his options. He feared Arab pressure to negotiate over Khuzistan. His ‘congenital weaknesses, his obsession with all things military and his intolerance of criticism, require almost daily treatment,’ concluded the Ambassador.81 Estimating the Arab intent, the DIA assessed the Iraqi threat to Iran as low, and the same applied to the United Arab Republic (Egypt and Syria); their leaders’ eyes were turned on Israel, fearing a preemptive attack. Arab arms, supplied by Russia, had a limited impact on the balance of power, since ‘the Arab’s capacity to absorb sophisticated equipment is limited’. Iraqi bombers or warships could be employed against Iran in case of a hypothetical confrontation, but this was not foreseeable over the coming five years.82 The State Department’s view was that the Shah exaggerated the Arab threat, and offered advice on how to limit his attempts to buy more arms.83 For his part, the Shah repeated that Washington had not joined CENTO, an alliance addressing only communist aggression. The Shah had a tendency to draw parallels, Diem’s murder being a case in point. He

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developed another fear that a Vietnam-style war – involving Arab insurgents backed by Egypt and Iraq – might develop in the Gulf, and pressed for more arms to help Iran become self-reliant.84 He blamed CENTO for its lack of a command structure, but knew that nothing could be done to remedy this. Thus he followed his own ‘independent foreign policy’, seeking to replace Britain after the latter’s withdrawal from the Gulf.85 Increased commercial contacts with Russia and willingness to buy more arms from different sources led the Shah to start negotiating a purchase that broke the US-built arms monopoly. The Shah did not really seek to play off the Russians against the Americans (as the Egyptians had attempted to do in the 1950s), nor to exert strong pressure for CENTO to identify threats in the Middle East (as Pakistan proclaimed the threat of India). Rostow did not appear alarmed, since the Shah was negotiating with others only for lowtechnology hardware – he was more interested in preserving his relations with Washington. Though the Shah contacted the Russians about their SAM-2s (surface-to-air missiles), Moscow proved unwilling to sell their technology to an ally of Washington. Johnson was pleased that the Shah had backed him over Vietnam (and even sent a medical team there), but felt that he had to communicate his position and warn the monarch to be careful. On 20 July 1966, he sent him a letter commending their cooperation and friendship. He admitted that: ‘We both understand that, while the immediate threat of Soviet military aggression has receded, indirect pressures continue and the Soviet aim of communizing Iran remains the same.’ He was worried about Russian propaganda, and cautioned: ‘But you should also understand that if Iran were to enter into arms arrangement with the Soviet Union or with other communist countries, this would confront us with serious problems in carrying forward our military assistance.’ Besides, Congress might assert itself over Tehran’s new policy of requesting Soviet arms, and also if Russian technicians were in Iran they might acquire top-secret information on American-made high-tech weaponry.86 In early January 1967 the Shah eventually agreed to buy low-technology war materiel from Russia, such as trucks, armoured personnel carriers and anti-aircraft artillery. Rostow remained unworried, but Vice-President Hubert Humphrey suggested that Washington had not ‘paid quite enough attention to Iran’.87 This deal set a precedent for Iran to buy also from Britain. The same year, Tehran purchased British-made Tiger Cat missiles, naval equipment and few years later 770 Chieftain tanks.88 With reference to regional contacts, the Shah approached the Pakistanis, urging them not to count on China, and – at least publicly – boosted CENTO.89 In late August 1967 Rostow informed Johnson that the Shah, in

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his discussions with President Ayub Khan and the Turkish Prime Minister, had ‘kept Ayub from tearing up CENTO’.90 Indeed, the CIA stated that the Shah had given Ayub ‘virtually an ultimatum to get his foreign affairs in order’; allegedly as a result, the government of Pakistan reassessed its foreign policy, and ‘[the Shah] sees Pakistan gradually turning more to the West’. US-Iranian relations were invaluable to the Shah, who aimed also to have ‘strengthened’ relations with Pakistan and Turkey. It was vaguely suggested that: ‘As CENTO fades other military and economic arrangements in which the US and the UK play no direct role are expanding.’91 James Critchfield (the head of the Near East and South Asia Division of the Plans Directorate, and author of the CIA report) did not name other regional arrangements, though he was probably referring to the Regional Cooperation for Development (RCD). Turning to the stance of the Shah after the Six Day War, Critchfield’s assessment was the monarch was content with the defeat of the Arabs (and thus the diminishing of the potential threat to Iran) but on the other hand ‘overtly continues to associate Iran with the Arab, but more particularly the Islamic cause in the context of the Arab-Israeli conflict’. Indeed, the Shah had urged King Hussein of Jordan to respond to any new Israeli offensive.92 The Russian military threat was mentioned by the Shah in his discussion with Johnson on 12 June 1968. Russian naval manoeuvres close to the Persian Gulf, as well as his near-constant fear of Nasser and Iraq, provided him with a good justification for requesting that US-made surface-to-surface missiles be deployed on the islands near the Strait of Hormuz, and operated by the Iranian military. The JCS were not impressed; the threat of the Russian navy was not deemed ‘immediate’. The Nike-Hercules missiles could meet operational requirements, and the Iranian air force, now equipped with F-4 Phantoms, could successfully defend the Iranian oil installations. Besides, ‘if the USSR should decide to move into the Persian Gulf, Iranian missiles would not be a deterrent’,93 Johnson replied to the Shah that the missile deployment was not feasible on technical grounds, but he was willing to expand aid for the support of the F-4s.94 Reviewing CENTO for 1968, D.J. Makinson the head of the Near Eastern Department at the FCO, wrote that: Iran shows that she values CENTO … Turkey has proved a loyal if unenthusiastic member, chiefly concerned to squeeze the maximum advantage from a Turkish secretary-general and to obtain as much aid as possible. Pakistan has pursued a policy of aloofness from all except economic affairs.95 Makinson felt obliged to repeat in his report that all CENTO

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consultations were guided by the 1959 paper on ‘Political Guidance to Military Committee’, which identified only Russia and Chinas as potential opponents of the alliance; this could not be revised because the regional members might attempt to turn the alliance against their neighbours (e.g. against Greece in the case of Turkey, against India in the case of Pakistan, and against Egypt in the case of Iran). The paper guided two official studies: ‘Assessment of the Threat to the CENTO Area’ and ‘Basic Assumptions for War.’ CENTO war-planning addressed only the hypothesis of a global war. The introduction of a war game called Zanjeer IV examined a non-nuclear war, took into consideration NATO assumptions, and led to pressure for the 1959 guidance to be altered, the regional powers urging that war games should address non-communist threats. But London and Washington were against such an option. Makinson repeated that: We will not accept planning against a Commonwealth country and have said so many times. We are also opposed to the idea of planning against other non-communist counties in the area because of the danger of involving CENTO in local quarrels and making it appear hostile to its neighbours.96 The Shah, in his discussions with Nixon and Kissinger, aimed to get more arms credits and to increase revenues from selling oil to the United States. The declassified record shows that he did not even mention CENTO as such, while constantly trying to play up the Iraqi/Egyptian threat to Iran. He also made a bid to persuade his allies of a rise in Russia’s influence following its arming of Iraq, but he still admitted that direct Russian aggression remained only ‘a remote possibility for the foreseeable future’.97 Trying to impress Kissinger (who in any case leaned towards increased military aid to Iran), the Shah spoke of a ‘pincer movement, one arm of which started in the UAR and came up the Arabian Peninsula through Yemen. The other arm extended from Iraq aimed towards Kuwait and Saudi Arabia.’ He therefore planned to acquire ‘an over-kill capability’ to deter his neighbours in the future. As for the Russians, he concurred that even though they had been selling arms to Iraq they would avoid adventurism: ‘they have a strong incentive’ to counsel moderation to the Arabs, and avoid a war in an oil-rich region.98 On the occasion of the 1970 CENTO meeting in Tehran, the Shah disclosed his fear of trouble after the withdrawal of the British from the Gulf. General Earle Wheeler, the chairman of the JCS, who talked with the monarch, described him as ‘serious’, fearing the appearance of a Russian hand ‘to stir mischief in the smaller Gulf states’ and cause trouble for Iran’s

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lifeline – the Gulf, the only route for its oil exports. Wheeler’s view was that the Shah would buy elsewhere if his requests were declined by Washington.99 Indeed, according to Kissinger: The problem arises as he [the Shah] pushes the limits of his resources and ours. He is understandably a man in a hurry who will press all resources available to their limits. The diplomatic problem here is to explain what our limits are and to see whether we can be helpful by making adjustments in the programme that will not exceed our budgetary limits.100 Beside credits to Tehran and oil sales to the United States, Wheeler warned that the four new squadrons of F-4s requested by Tehran could not be absorbed quickly by the Iranian military – buying arms did not guarantee their efficient employment.101 For his part, Richard Helms, the CIA director, urged that arms be provided to the Shah, and praised the value of the US signals-intelligence facilities in Iran, but without referring to any serious threat the country confronted. He was concise: It is the Shah’s contention that because of US interest in the independence and prosperity of Iran and in keeping both Iran and the Persian Gulf outside the zone of Soviet domination, we should accord an exceptional priority to meeting his requests … as a Director of Central Intelligence I have a particular responsibility to point out that continuing close USIranian ties are essential in order to ensure the receipt of information which is most vital to our national security. Almost all appropriately classified papers dealing with US policy toward Iran mention the ‘intelligence facilities’ situated there as an important factor affecting our decisions. In some ways it is unfortunate that even at rather high inter-agency levels we can not permit a reasonably complete statement of the accomplishments of these facilities, but this is a subject which honestly deserves maximum security protection. The USSR is aware of the existence and at least the general nature of our intelligence collection sensors in Iran, but we believe they have no accurate idea of the reliability and sophistication of the detailed information they provide us.102 Helms shrewdly referred only to the Shah’s claims of threats; he did not endorse the monarch’s assertions. The Pentagon asked the intelligence community for a special estimate of the threats Iran faced. A view aired by

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Harold Saunders, of the National Security Council, was that: ‘The visible threat is probably not great enough to justify as much hardware as the Shah wants.’103 Indeed, the special estimate drafted by the CIA stated that Iran was a well-armed player in the region, with no real or immediate threats to deal with, despite its antagonism with Iraq. Tehran aimed to further its deterrence capability, and currently outmatched the Iraqi military in quality and training. Washington, meanwhile, was obliged to provide the Shah with what he requested, otherwise other countries – such as France – would take the lead in arms sales. The Shah had now evolved into a ‘confident and purposeful leader’, taking all the decisions himself, and not allowing dissidents to voice their grievances – the regime’s ruthless security apparatus was growing considerably. However: Should he die, through assassination or accident, there is no single person able to wield the power he does, nor would the system [of government – since there were no parties, it could not be called a political system] permit devolution of authority.104 The Shah opted for yet more arms but caused a slowdown in industrial growth for 1969–70. The Ba’athists in Baghdad still made him nervous, but he escalated his support for the Iraqi Kurds and denounced the 1937 treaty with Iraq on the Shatt-al-Arab. For their part, the Russians sought to please both the Ba’athists (by arming them) and the Shah. Thus in the near future: ‘The Soviets would prefer not to be put in a position of having to choose between Iran on the one hand and Iraq and the radical Arabs on the other.’ The Shah’s fear of Iraq and Nasser was deemed ‘exaggerated’. In any case the Arabs suffered division: Baghdad was competing with Cairo, while the regional communist parties were powerless. Besides, the Arabs were not willing to accept a Russian lead (had Moscow chosen an adventurist strategy).105 At the Pentagon, Warren Nutter, the Assistant Secretary of Defense, emphasised that subversion rather than aggression was the major threat to peace and stability in Iran and the Gulf ... The air force desired by the Shah would not counter this threat. At the same time, the diversion of Iranian resources to military rather than economic and social ends could promote internal discontent and subversion.106 It was a sound (and prophetic) assessment. The Shah was asking for a total

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of 74 F-4Es, four RF-4Es and 30 C-130s, all to be delivered by 1974; but Nutter concluded that the Shah might upset the regional balance of power and spark off an arms race with his neighbours. He recommended not cutting off aid, but negotiating with the Shah for a reduction in this total.107 Melvyn Laird, the Secretary of Defense, agreed. He wrote to William Rogers, the Secretary of State, that the number of aircraft the Shah had requested ‘is particularly disturbing to me, for the acquisition of so much new equipment can only concern Iran’s neighbours, and likely force them to react’ by buying more arms for themselves; his view was that Washington should provide fewer F-4s, because I consider the course he [the Shah] appears to be following inimical to Iran’s interests and our own, and I think the time has come to talk bluntly with him about arms stability in the Persian Gulf area, as well as the excessive monetary and personnel costs which these programmes would entail.108 But Laird failed to persuade Kissinger, and the State Department proposed that the Shah not be dissuaded but rather informed of alternatives, and that he did not need to decide immediately on the proposal for fewer arms. However, nothing should be said that could make the Shah question American support for his regime.109 Eventually, the obsessed monarch would indeed acquire the aircraft he had asked for. In November 1970 Nixon confirmed full support for the Shah: the United States would implement a regional strategy for promoting cooperation between Iran and Saudi Arabia as the desirable basis for maintaining stability in the Persian Gulf while recognising the preponderance of Iranian power and developing a direct US relationship with the separate political entities of the area.110 The President also gave his approval for the US Middle East Force (MIDEASTFOR) to remain in Bahrain after the British withdrawal. This token force was composed of only two destroyers and a converted seaplanetender, and was not declared to CENTO.111 The same month, an attempt was made to kidnap US Ambassador Macarthur in Tehran, the culprits being dissidents in their early 20s. The skilful manoeuvres of his Iranian chauffeur got the diplomat out of trouble at the last moment, but the Shah and his government were embarrassed.

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Washington was reminded of a precarious domestic-security situation in Iran that could directly affect Americans’ personal safety. The episode was not disclosed by Washington – the administration had no wish to let it affect their relations with Tehran.112 Kissinger was the Shah’s most influential ally in Washington; he persistently argued that Iran ‘filled in the vacuum’ after the British withdrawal, and that the monarch was ‘an unconditional ally’ of the United States. He also emphasised the fact that the Shah paid for military hardware, and that no US resources were spent on Iran’s defence.113 The Nixon doctrine addressed the strategic role which Iran played in Gulf security during periods of détente with Russia and China. On 30 May 1972, in a move designed to symbolise American friendship, Nixon paid a visit to the Shah on returning from a trip to Moscow. The State Department and the CIA as well as Kissinger had compiled briefing papers for the President, Kissinger informing him that the Shah had interpreted Moscow’s latest agreement with Egypt, India, Iraq and the Arab emirates ‘as evidence that the Soviets now plan to pursue their interests in the Persian Gulf actively’. The Shah seemed ‘deeply shaken by what happened to Pakistan in December [1971 – the defeat by India and the secession of Bangladesh]’. However, Tehran aimed to increase contacts with Egypt now that Nasser was gone and Sadat, in the Shah’s eyes, looked ‘a potential defector from the Soviet camp’.114 Nixon was warned to expect a gloomy assessment of world events, however, because the Shah was ‘a professional Cassandra and prides himself on having been right in his predictions’, as the US Embassy in Tehran put it.115 In fact, according to one account, Sadat consulted the Shah before announcing the eviction of the Russian forces from Egypt in July 1972; Egypt-Iranian relations were fast improving.116 With reference to alliance-building, Helms, the CIA director, considered that: Although Iran officially participates in the UN, CENTO and the RCD and pays at least lip service to King Feisal’s concept of ‘Islamic Solidarity’ the Shah is reluctant to place confidence in regionalism or any collective security arrangement with his conservative neighbours.117 The CIA’s view was that the Shah saw himself ‘in the role of a latter-day Cyrus the Great who will restore to Iran at least a portion of its old glory’ and had ‘a unique capability to exercise leadership’ in the region by promoting a special association with Turkey and Israel, as well as with Saudi Arabia and Jordan.118 The Shah’s leadership was evident in his policy toward Pakistan, since the

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1965 conflict and after the 1971 war with India. Working beyond CENTO, he opted to act as a commercial agent for Pakistan, because Western suppliers denied it arms supplies. Iran bought 90 F-86s, and then turned them over to Pakistan, together with air-to-air missiles, artillery, ammunition and spare parts. In spring 1971, before the Indo-Pakistani war, Iran had already lent Pakistan a dozen helicopters and other war materiel for use in West Pakistan, so as to replace equipment transferred to East Pakistan. More supplies were sent once the Indian intervention commenced, and reports of post-war Iranian help in arming Pakistan also circulated.119 Obviously CENTO could not satisfy the Shah’s policy priorities: he wished to help Pakistan (discreetly), while at the same time – as he confided to Nixon – was worried about Turkey. After leftist terrorism and a protracted politico-economic crisis, a generals’ coup took place on 12 March 1971 under General Memduh Tagmaç, the Chief of the Turkish General Staff. The military eventually decided to rule behind the scenes, using a National Assembly under its control. A year later, the Shah, talking with Kermit Roosevelt (a protagonist of the operation to oust Prime Minister Mohammed Mossadeq back in 1953) on the eve of Nixon’s visit, commented that: ‘Turkey does not know where, in terms of its role in world affairs, it is going.’ (He spoke a great deal about Turkey, but Roosevelt’s memorandum to Kissinger is curiously very brief ). Later, in discussions with Nixon and Kissinger, the ruler of Iran argued that: ‘Turkey needs strengthening.’120 The Shah, while continuing to voice his anxiety about Russian influence in the region, played a double game over arms procurement. From 1967 to 1970 he had signed a total of five agreements with the Kremlin, through which the Iranian military had acquired 700 armoured personnel carriers, 8500 other vehicles, artillery, spare parts and ammunition. The last such agreement had totalled $135 million, including anti-tank guns and field artillery. What this shows is that he was not genuinely fearful of Russian intentions against Iran. The Shah avoided buying sophisticated Soviet weaponry like Mig-21s and Komar guided missiles, simply because he sought to maintain that his chief supplier of cutting-edge technology would be the United States. (While American arms sales to Iran declined by 44 per cent between 1966 and and 1971 – though more than $700 million in US-made hardware was exported in 1967–71 – Iran was the recipient of one-third of all American arms exports between 1972 and 1977.)121 Other countries were fortunate enough to enter the Tehran arms ‘bazaar’, Britain selling a total of 770 Chieftain main battle tanks, four hovercraft, Seacat/ Tiger Cat missiles, Rapier missiles and four Mark V destroyer escorts.122 The issue with US-Iranian relations was that the Shah ‘seized upon that

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part of the Nixon Doctrine which emphasizes the responsibility of regional powers.’ His bid to create a dominant position by acquiring more arms ‘may introduce strains into the long-standing US-Iranian military-supply relationship, as he increasingly judges US support for Iran by its willingness to supply the arms he wants’.123 Indeed, by late February the Shah was exerting pressure for an F-4 squadron to be delivered earlier than planned, due to the supposed threat to Iran by the Soviet-Iraqi agreement.124 However, Iranian court officials were well aware that Iran was not under threat by the Arabs – in private, the Shah dismissed Iraq as ‘a miserable little dwarf ’.125 Nixon was keen to sell modern F-14s and F-15s to the Shah, who was planning his post-1975 arms programme. In addition, the latest-technology laser-guided bombs were for sale. In sum Washington would provide the Shah with ‘all available sophisticated weapons short of the atomic bomb’.126 Later in the decade Iran would eventually purchase and operate the F-14s. Nixon told the Shah, in confidence: ‘Protect me. Don’t look at détente as something that weakens you but as a way for the United States to gain influence.’127 Nixon and Kissinger valued bilateral relations, not alliances like CENTO, and did not work towards upgrading the structure of the alliance, nor towards joining it. Nonetheless, Anglo-American friendship towards Iran was betrayed in 1973. After the Yom Kippur war (6–26 October), Iran joined with other OPEC members in raising oil prices in retaliation for the West’s backing of Israel during the conflict. The Shah, according to Kissinger America’s ‘unconditional ally’, addressed American and British audiences in declaring that in ten years time his country would be as advanced as Britain.128 He also attacked the alleged influence of the US-Israeli lobby’s over American politics and the media.129 Furthermore, in early October 1973 he secretly allowed Russian civilian aircraft to overfly Iranian territory, transferring war materiel to the Egyptians.130 On 23 October 1973, Queen Elizabeth II (returning from an official visit to Australia) paid a visit to the Shah, who seized the opportunity to expand the discussion of international relations and defence. Sir Peter Ramsbotham, Her Majesty’s Ambassador in Tehran, who attended the meeting of the two monarchs, remarked of the discussion between them: This was something of a monologue by the Shah, who characteristically treated Her Majesty to a disquisition about his defence and foreign policies, with details of military equipment, steel production etc. The Empress [Queen Farah] made one brave, and successful, attempt to stop the Shah in full spate (he was describing the latest missile) by

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asking the Queen her impressions of the Opera House in Sydney. This came as something of a relief, but it was not long before we were back amongst the statistics!131 During their conversation the Queen asked if the Russians ‘were making difficulties’ in Iran; the Shah replied: ‘Not openly, but their objectives are clear.’ From that point on he took the opportunity to expand on East-West relations, arguing for the ‘interdependence of Western Europe and the Middle East.’ He warned (‘Cassandra-style’ as usual) of the dangers of a false détente in Europe, enabling the Russian to exert more pressure in his part of the world ... he hoped that Western Europe would not be lulled into false security through the search for détente which the Russians might use only to secure Western technology to build up their own strength.132 He touched on technical details, elaborating on his plans for steel production in Iran to employ a new process for producing iron using natural gas; he also made a passing reference to nuclear weapons, arguing that the development of such weapons by China might compel Russia to cooperate with Western Europe and the United States.133 The Shah, once careful in his statements, voiced his discontent with his allies. He was annoyed by criticism of his regime in the European media, and particularly in a BBC Panorama programme. In a 1974 television interview with an American journalist, when asked about corruption in Iranian government circles, he spoke of corruption ‘especially in your society [the USA]’134 Sir Anthony Parsons, the new British Ambassador in Tehran (appointed in 1974), found the Shah ‘harsh, arrogant, patronising and didactic.’ In private encounters he was ‘quite reflective, remarkably well-informed on foreign affairs and military matters.’135 His American counterpart, William Sullivan, agreed: in his view the Shah in private was ‘relaxed and talked in his usual easy way’, but in public: ‘He transformed himself suddenly to a steely, ramrod-straight autocrat. This involved not only adjusting his uniform and donning dark glasses but also throwing out his chest, raising his chin and fixing his lips in a grim line.’136 Next year, the Shah surprised Washington and Israel by hastily concluding an agreement with Iraq, stopping aid to the Kurdish rebels there (a scheme involving Iranian and Israeli secret services), and finding an accommodation in the Shatt al Arab dispute. The Algiers Accord showed Western diplomats that Iran was an overconfident and unpredictable player

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in the region. The Shah had in effect provided Ba’athist Iraq with a time window to reinforce its military without having to deal simultaneously with a Kurdish insurgency. The medium-term threat to both Israel and Iran had thus increased.137 Kissinger, now Secretary of State in the Ford administration, was also surprised and confused. He dispatched an emissary to find out from the Shah what he had agreed with the Iraqis. Washington did not react strongly, out of fear of losing the Shah, but Kissinger did not offer his congratulations on this deal. ‘This was the first major divergence [of interest between the United States and Iran]. We were taken aback by this,’ remarked Charles Nass, a diplomat serving with the American mission in Tehran.138 The Shah was seeking recognition as a regional leader by the Arabs, and so played up his Islamic credentials, distancing himself (at least in public) from Israel. Justifying his decision to sign the accord, he argued: We followed the principle ‘my enemy’s enemy is my friend’ and our relations with Israel began to develop. But now the situation has changed … I think of a new equilibrium in the region … Perhaps [it] can be integrated into an Islamic framework.139 The same year, in November 1975, Iran backed the Arabs by voting in favour of UN General Assembly Resolution 3379, equating Zionism with racism and prompting Israeli and American frustration. Again, however, Washington did not confront Tehran. In his bid to become a regional leader, the Shah was now showing symptoms almost of megalomania. In March 1976 he told US Vice-President Nelson Rockefeller that he aimed for Iran ‘to play a role in the Indian Ocean’ and ‘had no objections to America being present’. He extended Iranian’s naval patrols south to the tenth parallel. Henry Precht, the Iran desk officer at the State Department, thought that the Shah ‘was not trying to be just the hegemon of the region; he wanted [Iran] to become a power on the world stage.’140 While President Jimmy Carter promoted détente, he was critical of human-rights violations (and was aware of the Amnesty International assessment characterising the Shah as ‘one of the worst violators of human rights in the world’), but like his predecessors he praised the strategic role of Iran and the leadership of the Shah.141 On New Year’s Eve 1977 the President paid a visit to Tehran, toasting the Shah and describing his country as an ‘island of stability’ in the Middle East. Nonetheless the Shah was less than happy; behind the façade of Carter’s reception, he was angry that the sale of Pershing missiles to Tehran had not been cleared, on the grounds that they

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could be employed in the delivery of nuclear weapons. The Shah wanted them as a deterrent against Iraq’s newly-acquired Scud missiles, and he then turned to Israel to undertake joint development of a missile (‘Project Flower’, which was abruptly terminated by the 1979 Islamic revolution in Iran). The monarch feared an Iraqi attack instigated by Russia, and backed by the other Arab regimes, worrying that Washington would treat an IranIraq war as a regional conflict and fail to intervene on the Iranian side. In a Newsweek interview in November 1977 he blamed the Americans’ ‘unreliability’ towards their allies, citing Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos and the Indo-Pakistani wars.142 If he criticised the Americans, his closest allies and suppliers of his high-tech weaponry, for ‘unreliability’, his feelings for CENTO were more than dismissive.

7 Demise of the Alliances

By the 1970s London and Washington were well aware that SEATO and CENTO, effectively remnants of the 1950s, were of little use to them. The détente, and strategic intelligence on potential threats in Asia and the Middle East, were reassuring. In 1973 Pakistan left SEATO and abrogated the Manila Treaty, while France also made its exit from the alliance (but continued adhering to the Treaty); since the late 1950s Paris had proved only a marginal member of SEATO, though frequently blaming the regional states for contributing nothing to the alliance. Neither state’s decision to withdraw essentially damaged the organisation, if only because it was already in very bad shape. Meanwhile, by 1973 the communist insurgencies in Asian states were no longer a cause for further alarm – they could not threaten the local regimes (and, in any case the SEATO allies appeared unwilling to intervene to save them). British strategy was to finish with SEATO and CENTO, but in doing so to avoid provoking a strong reaction from the remaining allies or giving China or Russia any reason to become over-assertive. The American defeat in Vietnam cost the West its credibility in backing rightist regimes in Asia, and communist strategists drew their own conclusions on Anglo-American alliances, power and influence. In 1975 Thailand and the Philippines began to speak openly of scrapping SEATO. All the rest of the allies were happy to agree; in fact the Australians (whose erstwhile hawkish policies had turned dovish) urged a quick death for the organisation. By early 1972 the Philippines and Taiwan became worried at the American opening to China. Marshall Green, the Assistant Secretary of State, was dispatched to explain Nixon’s policy, but despite repeated American assurances that their SEATO obligations would be honoured, Bangkok and Manila remained suspicious – they had already seen the gradual withdrawal of the Americans from Vietnam. On 5 March 1972 Green met with General

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Romulo and President Marcos of the Philippines; the latter argued that Washington seemed to have changed its policy of ‘two Chinas’ with reference to Taiwan. Most significantly, Romulo questioned American commitment to helping the Philippines in the event of communist aggression (under article IV of the Manila Treaty). He remarked with some bitterness that ‘now that you [Americans and Chinese] are friends’ Washington would not come to the aid of his country in time of need. Green denied this, affirming the continuation of American commitments; but in vain – the Philippine leadership continued to believe that their country would be sidelined as a result of the Sino-American rapprochement.1 Strategic intelligence again showed that serious threats to SEATO member states and to the SEATO area generally had receded. During this period the communist threat to the Philippines and Thailand from domestic communist bands was deemed low. According to the SEATO secretariat’s July 1972 assessment of communist subversion and strategy, Russia and China were extending their influence in Asia by taking advantage of cultural, economic, commercial and diplomatic ties with regional nations, while Russia was making an effort to show the flag with naval deployments in the India ocean. These were non-military strategies, gradually distancing the two communist powers from local insurgent groups. While China continued arming local communist insurgents, in the era following the Cultural Revolution it aimed for ‘a period of relative flexibility and moderation in its internal affairs.’ Indeed, China’s approach was now one of ‘comparative moderation in its foreign policy and continued in repairing the damage to its international prestige caused by the Cultural Revolution’. Besides, Beijing’s ‘relatively low-key reaction’ to the US bombings during the Easter offensive in Vietnam, and to the US Navy’s mining of North Vietnamese ports, indicated that China was ‘settling for a less strident form of competition than formerly with the US and Soviet Union’. The Chinese were more interested in commerce, to the extent that: ‘Trade and cultural contacts with Southeast Asian nations will expand, sometimes at the expense of Peking’s support for “wars of national liberation”’.2 Moscow also showed ‘a notably restrained reaction’ to the mining of North Vietnamese ports, seeking to avoid damaging its relations with Washington. Brezhnev played up his concept of founding an Asian collective-defence organisation, an idea aired back in 1969 but which had gained little support from regional states. The SEATO intelligence assessment was that Brezhnev was trying to find an opponent for ASEAN that might develop into such a collective-security system as he had envisaged. In any case, the Russians derived much satisfaction from their 1971 treaty with India, assuming

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(wrongly) that this was ‘a prototype for an eventual interlocking network of similar treaties’, leading in the future to their proposed Asian collectivesecurity organisation. However, regional countries’ view was that the USSR planned to establish an anti-Chinese alliance, and remained suspicious of its aspirations.3 China and Russia could have been brought together, reacting strongly to US bombings and mining in Vietnam, but each remained highly suspicious of the other’s motives.4 The Philippine delegation submitted their national assessment of communist insurgency and subversion. Generally, ‘the nature of the threat remains mainly subversive and partly insurgent’. Of all insurgent groups, the Maoist PKP (Communist Party of the Philippines) was very active, seeking to overthrow the government but lacked ‘the capability to undertake largescale offensive actions’.5 In Thailand the communist insurgency was confined to isolated rural areas, far from Bangkok and ‘unlikely in the near future to present a serious threat to the central government.’ Such assessments were not always successful in convincing some of the allies – indeed, the British representative on the intelligence committee was directed to resist any attempt by other allies to make reference to an ‘actual Chinese or North Vietnamese military threat to Thailand’. The key argument was that the North Vietnamese deployment for the Easter offensive had drawn off all the forces that could have been used against Thailand. American and Australian estimates and assertions on threats to Thailand, meanwhile, should be judged ‘on their merits’.6 The situation in Laos and Cambodia had deteriorated by the end of 1971, and the confrontation between government forces and the North Vietnamese, who had brought in heavy artillery, continued. Hanoi was interested in securing access to logistics corridors to support its operations in Vietnam, and it was SEATO’s assessment that this was the key motivation behind any planning. Attacks in major cities were not expected, ‘because such actions would be politically counterproductive and militarily foolish’.7 In Cambodia, the pro-American government forces were isolated in cities, with the countryside controlled by communist insurgents, and a joint US/ South Vietnamese force had intervened against the North Vietnamese there as early as April-July 1970. Generally, the communists had maintained the initiative, but withdrew their forces to concentrate on the Easter offensive in Vietnam.8 At British urging, the SEATO intelligence paper adopted a balanced assessment of the Russian naval presence in the Indian Ocean. Thus it was explicitly stated that the Russian deployments were

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of direct concern to SEATO only insofar as much activity takes place in or near those parts of the area with which SEATO’s military planning and exercises are concerned … there appears to be little prospect in the area of direct interest to SEATO of a greater localised Soviet naval presence. It was crucial to keep in mind that at its present level of deployment, the Soviet naval presence in the Indian Ocean cannot be viewed as a significant threat either to that area or to the western flank of SEATO, but it has the potential to threaten sea lines of communication should it ever suit Soviet policy to do so.9 (Possibly the last sentence was chosen by way of accommodating pessimistic Australian estimates.) Meanwhile, SEATO continued with exercises, on a modest scale. In October 1974 a seminar on village defence was held in Bangkok. The civilmilitary exercise ‘Nagarj’ (January–February 1975) focused on providing health services to remote villages in north-eastern Thailand. A maritime exercise, PX 52 ‘Sea Fox’, concentrated on convoy movement, conducted in parallel with an anti-infiltration exercise in Manila Bay and nearby Philippine waters.10 The mentality of détente prevailed in the 1970s, as had that of the domino theory, among American officials, back in the 1950s. Also, intraalliance dynamics developed: Pakistan withdrew from SEATO, and France followed suit, while reassuring threat-intelligence assessments showed that there was in fact little need for SEATO. By the end of 1974 the allies had agreed on the demilitarisation of the alliance, ‘in conformity with the global trend towards détente and the changing pattern of relationships in Asia’, as D.L. Cole, the British Ambassador in Bangkok remarked. Once the world had witnessed the fall of Saigon in April 1975, the coming of communist rule in Cambodia the same year (with the Khmer Rouge under Pol Pot who commenced widespread genocide against ethnic Chinese, Thai and his own people) and the November victory of the communist Pathet Lao in Laos, two regional allies, Thailand and the Philippines, called not for reconfiguring the alliance’s mission (which had been discussed initially) but finishing with it, because it served no purpose: most of the Indochinese dominos had already gone red. At the regional level SEATO failed because it did not avert the advent of communist rule. However, this failure was not a total one since

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Thailand and the Philippines had not been overrun. At the strategic level détente was gaining ground in US/Chinese/Russian relations, making fears of Sino/Russian adventurism sound unrealistic. In Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam communists were seeking to establish their domestic authority, not to destabilise Thailand or the Philippines. Commonwealth members were also wondering about the purpose of the alliance. Since 1973 the new Labour governments of Australia and New Zealand, under Gough Whitlam and Norman Kirk respectively, had already been working to reduce their countries’ activities under SEATO, indicating that they would not be sorry if the alliance were scrapped.11 Thailand and the Philippines took the lead. At a July 1975 meeting in Manila, President Marcos of the Philippines and Thai Prime Minister Kukrit Pramoj agreed to phase out SEATO. The joint communiqué stated that: ‘Reviewing the role of SEATO, and noting that it has served its purposes commendably, the two leaders agreed in principle that the organisation should be phased out to make it accord with the new realities in the region.’ The rest of the allies were happily surprised; Thai foreign minister General Chatichai consulted with his smiling Australian and New Zealand counterparts in August. Indeed, as Ambassador Cole put it: ‘The Australians jumped at the idea with such enthusiasm that the luckless General Chatichai returned to Bangkok with a confused commitment to wind up the organisation much more rapidly than the Thai cabinet had agreed.’ Most importantly, there was also a ‘tacit understanding’ on the part of London and Washington to let the regional allies point to a new policy direction on SEATO. The alliance representatives who met in Bangkok in August 1975 focused on closing down the organisation. The key issue for London was only to finish with SEATO ‘without delay but without panic. Once decision in principle to phase out has been announced, critics will lose most of their ammunition, and we do not want to give impression of being in headlong retreat’.12 Ambassador Cole judged that a phasing-out period of up to two years would be required, but negotiations on the pace and length of this process elicited strong disagreement. The SEATO secretariat insisted that from a technical point of view it ought to last two–three years, and the Thais backed this assessment because they wished to avoid allowing the communist regimes in Indochina to see the alliance falling apart within months – ‘the seeming panic’ would ‘give comfort to their enemies’ – and there was also the issue of job losses in Bangkok, the seat of the organisation. The British and the American recognised the merit of the Thai position; maintaining very good relations with the Thais required taking into consideration all their concerns – the country still saw itself as exposed to

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the communist threat. On the other hand, the Australians believed that the allies should abolish SEATO by the end of 1976. Initially the Philippines and New Zealand agreed with this position, but at the Bangkok meeting in August they eventually sided with the Thais: SEATO should be ‘phased out within a period of approximately two years, in a systematic and orderly manner’.13 C.W. Squire, of the FCO’s Southeast Asia Department, took the view that the eagerness of Thailand and the Philippines to abandon SEATO had more to do with [an] attempt to come to terms with policy changes by the stronger powers external to the region [a reference to the Sino-American rapprochement]; and as a move towards greater flexibility in their conduct of defence and foreign policy. There was no need for alarm, since ‘it is not an ideological change or a lack of interest in connections with Western countries outside the region.’14 As for the Australians, who had sought to speed up the process of disbanding the alliance, their new policy was drawn up by the new Labour government’s wish to minimise military commitments in Asia (Australian troops had already been withdrawn from Singapore). The Thais were ruffled by the Australian stance: it looked to them that Canberra, having secured, with the ANZUS agreement, American backing in time of need, no longer cared about its regional partners. The Australians were blamed for assuming that ‘brown people are expendable – whites are not’; and Squire pointed out that Canberra had not fully appreciated Asian sensitivities on security matters such as the phasing-out of SEATO.15 In addition, the Thais wished the Manila Pact to continue, since they believed it was the legal framework (beyond bilateral agreements) that helped to offset ‘their shrinking special relationship with the Americans’, and could be the grounds for asking for help in times of emergency. But the Philippine leadership, who had quarrelled with Bangkok, maintained that without SEATO the pact was meaningless and thus should be abrogated. In British eyes, this move showed an intention to adopt a more non-aligned policy on the part of the Philippines. The Americans did not intend to press the Philippines on this, and aired the option of allowing the Manila Treaty to die after ‘a decent interval’, 60 days after the meeting.16 At the 20th council meeting in New York, on 24 September 1975, the Philippines backed down from their position at ‘the eleventh hour’, but all members pledged not to disclose anything to the media.17 Meanwhile, negotiations on the phasing-

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out procedure for SEATO programmes, projects and exercises continued unnoticed. The civil-military exercise SEATEX 53, scheduled for early 1976, was the alliance’s last large-scale activity.18 A year later, in a 30 June 1977 article entitled ‘SEATO fades into Cold War history without firing a shot’, the Times correspondent Peter Hazelhurst commented that SEATO the ‘once proud military bulwark against communism in Asia, will fade into history tomorrow, unheralded and almost unnoticed’. No ceremony was planned with the lowering of national flags – they would come down quietly the following day at the now-deserted headquarters in Bangkok. Hazelhurst concentrated on the policies over SEATO of France and Pakistan, with the latter continually trying to have India included in the list of threats. Besides, the opening to China of Washington, had reduced Thailand’s and the Philippines’ fear of a new Korean-type war.19 Two years later, CENTO became the next alliance to be scrapped. This organisation had been unaffected by the Yom Kippur war, and for its part the Soviet Union had evinced no interest in confronting CENTO, nor even subverting it. P.J. Goulden, of the Planning Staff at the FCO, remarked calmly: ‘Soviet policy does not appear to have gone much further than sort of influence building [with Turkey, Iran, India, Afghanistan] – aid, trade, culture etc. – which is a normal and legitimate part of foreign relations’.20 At the 1973 ministerial council Kissinger made a number of remarks that showed continued American interest in CENTO: ‘CENTO had assumed new importance’, ‘a strengthening of CENTO was important’, ‘CENTO solidarity [could] be clearly demonstrated’ and ‘NATO should not ignore the CENTO area’.21 Presumably Kissinger was deceiving his allies, because Washington’s attention was focused on détente and on the ArabIsraeli conflict, rather than on officially joining CENTO, working towards an institutional upgrade for the organisation by drawing up a charter, expanding defence planning or working closely with NATO. Kissinger’s show of interest was in respect of Pakistan’s security – to which, however, the Americans avoided contributing more arms. Foreign Secretary James Callaghan was informed by Kenneth Rush, the Deputy Secretary of State, on 21 May 1974 that Washington ‘did not want to provoke an arms race’ between a Russian-armed India and a US-armed Pakistan. Besides, there was ‘a pro-Indian sentiment’ in Congress that could not be discounted.22 Beyond the India-Pakistan antagonism, the détente had made CENTO obsolete and CENTO officialdom had realised this. The new SecretaryGeneral, Nasir Assar, in a 27 March 1974 meeting with David Ennals, an FCO minister, admitted that he was worried over the future of the alliance:

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‘His major concern was the future of the CENTO alliance in the context of the current atmosphere of détente. How would détente affect the area generally and the role of the alliance?’ ‘If complete détente was achieved, the important economic role CENTO had always played could be further increased.’ Ennals replied in general terms that CENTO ‘would always have a role’, either military or economic, but the exact British contribution would have to be examined, since a defence review was under way. Assar, by promoting the economic role of the alliance, was hinting at more Western aid to the regional allies, especially in the form of ‘technological contributions’.23 Four months later, the July 1974 invasion of Cyprus by Turkey did not cause any difficulty in relations among the CENTO member states. The British pointed out that the alliance ‘was not involved in the conflict, but Pakistan and Iran were helpful [towards Turkey] and may well offer further moral and material support in any future Turkish quarrel with Greece’.24 On 14 August 1974 Nasir Assar, in a meeting with Lord Goronwy-Roberts (Parliamentary Under-Secretary at the FCO), considered it was too early to estimate the side-effects on CENTO of the war in Cyprus. It was the day of the second offensive there, and Assar agreed with Goronwy-Roberts that the UN ceasefire resolution had to be respected by the warring parties. The Secretary-General leaned towards Turkey, speaking of Ankara’s frustration with Greek policy over previous years. But he did not sound hawkish enough for CENTO to side openly with Turkey, arguing only for the need to expand the economic role of the alliance in the near future.25 Until 1978–79, London had warned against CENTO becoming a forum for antagonism between Greece and Turkey – only the latter was a member, and their disputes were not the concern of the alliance.26 However, AngloGreek and Anglo-American relations suffered from the Cyprus imbroglio, and Athens left the military wing of NATO in protest at the absence of any alliance response to the second Turkish assault, in August 1974. For its part, Turkey reacted strongly to Washington’s arms embargo enacted by Congress in February 1975. But Ankara was not much interested in following Pakistan’s example over India by trying to have Greece identified as a threat to CENTO. In 1974, the Council of Ministers agreed that: The deliberate initiation of limited war in the CENTO area is most unlikely. Though Soviet military intervention, direct or indirect, in the event of political unrest in one of the regional countries is unlikely under foreseeable circumstances, it cannot be ruled out.

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Subversion, however, was deemed a ‘real threat’ to CENTO. The political guidance given to the Military Committee forecast that: In the case of another conflict between Indian and Pakistan the Soviet Union might again follow the same policy as in 1971 of providing moral, diplomatic and material, but not direct operational support to India. It might also extend similar support to Afghanistan in the event of armed conflict between Pakistan and Afghanistan. This threat assessment agreed with previous versions in arguing that the Russians would not reinforce their forces bordering the CENTO area at the expense of their deployments in Europe or on their border with China. It was most unlikely that they would ‘deliberately initiate a war (general or limited)’. But even ‘in the realisation of the risks of general war … the Soviets [would] have adopted an indirect and subversive strategy to undermine the CENTO alliance and to out-flank the regional member countries’. In addition, the Council stated (with reference to activities in the United Arab Emirates) that: Although China could hardly be regarded as a direct threat to the area, it continues to influence the countries in the region and renders moral and substantial material support to leftist movements in certain parts of this region when it serves its purpose.27 At the Ministerial Council, Kenneth Rush, the Deputy Secretary of State, expanded on US policy towards Russia (especially on their talks over the preparation of a new Strategic Arms Limitation Treaty), Egypt under Sadat, the Arab-Israeli conflict and the Gulf states. On the subcontinent he commended a ‘great act of statesmanship’­ – the decision of Pakistan to recognise Bangladesh – and gave reassurances about the Russian naval presence in the Indian Ocean: he did not believe ‘that it would necessarily lead to a great expansion of the Soviet naval presence in the Indian Ocean, and the United States had no desire to start a naval race there’. The American presence would be facilitated by an agreement with London (at that time under negotiation) for American forces to be stationed in Diego Garcia.28 However, Rush did not refer to the specific role of CENTO could play; in effect the boastful statements of Kissinger on CENTO (see above) were significantly scaled down: Rush was simply putting forward a treatise on American policy in Europe and the Middle East, and in any case his

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assessments hardly pointed to any real threat that should concern the allies. Callaghan admitted (as did Rush) that the first nuclear test by India had ‘created a new situation’, meriting international concern. He took a relaxed stance towards Russia, arguing that: ‘Contrary to expectations, the Russians had made no diplomatic advance in the region in the past year.’ Moscow had been arming Iraq, but in Callaghan’s view: ‘The Russians have had their problems with the Iraqis over oil and must also be embarrassed by the problem of Kurdistan. As someone has said, “If you can’t ride two horses you should not be in the circus”.’ As for the Yom Kippur war and the oil crisis, the Foreign Secretary judged that these events ‘revealed a degree of Soviet caution and [that] the successful positive diplomacy of the United States has probably both irritated and restrained the Russians’.29 From the UK point of view, there was no case for increasing military commitments to CENTO. No actual planning to counter Soviet aggression would be drafted: only the co-ordination of regional member states’ plans could take place. London would not even contemplate drafting CENTO contingency planning against India in the event of a new Indo-Pakistani war. There was no case either for recognising the ‘war by proxy’ concept promoted by Pakistan, which sought to identify India and Afghanistan as proxies of Russia. The low level of threat from Russia, and the need to keep an eye on Pakistan, made Britain hesitant to upgrade the sharing of military intelligence among CENTO members. Thus: ‘We should be unwilling to become committed to providing military intelligence to all CENTO members on the scale the present draft [in the 1977 ministerial consultations] suggests. We think that the existing bilateral agreements in this field are satisfactory’. NATOCENTO intelligence liaison was kept to a minimum, despite the urgings of the Iranians that they should receive more NATO-derived intelligence. Only ‘a small amount of relatively low-level information’ passed from NATO to CENTO, with London arguing that national and NATO security concerns restrained more intelligence-sharing.30 Umit Haluk Bayülken, the new CENTO Secretary-General, attempted in vain to convince London of the strategic value of the alliance. The Turkish official was considered ‘generally pleasant but rather indecisive, he can sometimes be prickly, excitable and (especially on protocol matters) selfimportant’.31 In March 1977 Bayülken visited London and consulted with Foreign Secretary David Owen and Fred Mulley, the Secretary of Defence. He attempted to play up the Soviet threat, but admitted that ‘subversion continued in all the regional countries. It was not directly Soviet-organised, but nevertheless took its inspiration from international communism.’32 Bayülken spoke of CENTO’s value, arguing that ‘it pinned down 43 Soviet

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divisions, 2000 aircraft and hundreds of missiles’. (One could argue that only John Foster Dulles would have been impressed by this statement.) Most significantly: ‘Although no CENTO country could say this in so many words, it added a guarantee for the survival of Israel’.33 (Again, this was another improbable statement.) Nonetheless, he was worried that Pakistan would eventually decide to leave the alliance. Bayülken was promoting a scheme for Pakistan to be granted support by the United Kingdom and the United States, via not CENTO but the UN Security Council and General Assembly, in the event of an invasion by India. His assumption was that Pakistan, being the weaker side of the two countries, would not initiate a war. If Russia vetoed any Security Council resolution but the General Assembly formally recognised Indian aggression against Pakistan, the USA and the UK ‘must act’ under a General Assembly resolution. Thus, the Pakistani government would understand that CENTO allies were doing something to address its national-security concerns. US Assistant UnderSecretary M.S. Weir sounded cautious, acknowledging that this ‘seemed an interesting idea’, but stated that a ‘binding understanding’ might ‘provoke’ the Soviets: ‘The idea was worth study to see whether we could find suitable language’.34 With this carefully-worded phrase he simply killed this complex scheme to involve the General Assembly. In the field of development and joint projects, Bayülken admitted that the regional countries seemed uninterested; the Regional Co-operation for Development, an organisation of which Turkey, Iran and Pakistan were member states, had recorded no meaningful achievements. On the CENTO side, the Turkey-Iran rail link inaugurated back in 1971, was the only joint development project worth talking about. Meanwhile, public opinion in Turkey was questioning the value of CENTO.35 David Owen discussed with Bayülken the question of Pakistan’s seeking nuclear capability in response to India’s nuclear programme. Bayülken urged London and Washington to boost the alliance, ‘since experience showed that, left to themselves, the regional countries did not co-operate’.36 The Secretary-General struck a pro-Pakistan note; he was willing to accept all necessary safeguards required by the Western allies, but referred to Pakistan’s intention of acquiring reactors. He mentioned the cases of South Africa, Brazil and India acquiring nuclear technology: why should not Pakistan do the same? (It was of course a rhetorical question.) Owen was unwilling to divulge British policy on Pakistan’s request to France for help in building a nuclear re-processing plant. He took refuge in emphasising that: The danger of nuclear proliferation has reached the stage of a major

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international crisis … if things go on the way they are going at present, we are laying ourselves open to world destruction. There is the risk of these weapons getting into the hands of guerrillas, or even common criminals, and the world being held to ransom.37 In short, Pakistan (which suffered from serious internal political crises) should not get nuclear technology. In his turn, Bayülken, to general surprise, openly became an advocate for Islamabad and pressed further, arguing that Pakistan should bring the subject of India’s nuclear arsenal into the bilateral discussions. Owen replied that ‘some form of reassurance against the possibility of nuclear aggression’ should be given to Islamabad, but did not elaborate. The idea of helping Pakistan in time of war via the machinery of the UN the Foreign Secretary found merely ‘interesting’.38 Fred Mulley, the Secretary of Defence, did not hesitate to argue that Pakistan ‘seemed to pose the biggest problem to CENTO’; nonetheless, London could not be involved in the Indo-Pakistani antagonism. The Secretary-General considered that Pakistani concerns should be formally addressed in a CENTO policy paper, but Mulley was clear enough, remarking that it would be ‘difficult’ for Britain to take on additional military commitments. He only accepted that the alliance should not fail (in the event of a Pakistani withdrawal), since ‘in strategic terms’ CENTO and NATO were linked.39 For his part, Admiral of the Fleet Sir Edward Ashmore argued that the defence cuts would decrease the contribution the UK armed forces could bring to alliance exercises, but offered some reassurance: ‘Still [we are] determined to participate in the military activities of CENTO as much as we are able … nothing has changed in the importance of the area.’ Bayülken, addressing the Pakistanis’ concerns, claimed that Islamabad also viewed Afghanistan as a growing threat. To this Ashmore remarked that: ‘Some of the regional countries seem to see CENTO as a lever to obtain extra advantages from the United States.’ The Secretary-General spoke of ‘legitimate grievances’, especially Turkey’s having to suffer the US arms embargo. Pakistan was also frustrated because it could buy US arms only with cash; no arms credits were authorised by the Congress. Given the precarious condition of its economy, Pakistani government leaders might wrongly assume that no one cared about their country’s national security. President Jimmy Carter had no wish to accept a deal whereby the Americans would sell them A7 Corsair bombers in return for not going ahead with the nuclear reprocessing plant. In addition, Washington and London also showed themselves unwilling to sell riot-control equipment (e.g. tear-gas grenades) to Islamabad, thus increasing

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the anger of the Pakistani government, which had already declared martial law (though eventually France sold the Pakistanis the anti-riot material they sought). Britain (in the event of an official American refusal to sell the A7s to Pakistan) could profit by offering them the Jaguar fighter, it being deemed ‘unlikely’ that the Americans would protest at such an initiative. Nonetheless, London had also to explore the possibility of selling Jaguars to India ‘in large numbers’.40 But London could not supply both sides, and would not jeopardise relations with India over Pakistan. Planners opted to examine any arms sales within the existing policy guidelines. The FCO accepted the arming of Pakistan with ‘any kind of defence equipment which is not exclusively offensive in character and does not introduce into the region newly-developed advanced weapons which would create a significantly new or higher combat capability.’ General Mohammad Ziaul-Haq (the junta head who had taken over on 5 July 1977, and in 1979 had Prime Minister Bhutto executed) complained to Prime Minister Callaghan that the Jaguar fighters were too expensive to be purchased without credit, and that he did not anticipate buying them any time soon. An MoD sales team visited Pakistan in February to assess the demand for defence equipment, but the lack of credit and existing sales guidelines narrowed the Pakistani wish list.41 Meanwhile, Pakistan continued to oppose the liaison between CENTO and NATO, disapproving of sharing air-defence information between Iran and NATO.42 In 1977 the FCO maintained the same threat assessment for CENTO: ‘While subversion is the main form that the threat may take, the military capability of the Soviet Union constitutes a formidable element in the general threat to the CENTO region.’ Still, the deployment of the Soviet divisions opposite CENTO regional members would be at the expense of reserves or forces already deployed facing NATO and the People’s Republic of China. The Soviets are not likely to strengthen their forces in the South [CENTO region] at the expense of their vigilance in the East or in the West.43 Despite the communist propaganda attacks against CENTO, the continuation of the détente amounted to ‘the paramount foreign policy considerations in Soviet minds’.44 There was no actual threat compelling Britain to upgrade its military commitment to CENTO; besides, the MoD had never been satisfied with the overall military record of CENTO or with the level of co-operation among the armed forces of the regional countries. At an official lunch the UK Ambassador in Washington remarked openly that:

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‘The performance of the alliance had not always lived up to expectations, and this was particularly true on the military side.’45 At the CENTO Military Committee meeting in Washington on 5 April 1978, the chronic problems of the alliance were aired again. There was no updated Political Guidance available (and no agreement was reached for a new version). The alliance was operating under the 1964 Political Guidance and threat estimate.46 In addition, a bid to establish liaison between the CENTO Combined Military Planning Staff and the National Representatives’ Office had failed. The Iranians sounded eager to co-operate more on intelligence, only to be counterbalanced by the Pakistani insistence on limited intelligence cooperation with NATO.47 The Supreme Allied Commander Europe (SACEUR) proposed to the SecretaryGeneral a resumption of negotiations on air-defence information. Again, Pakistan declared that this was not merely a military issue, but a political one. SACEUR’s proposal was cleared by the Permanent Military Deputies Group, but was eventually killed once turned over to the CENTO Council of deputies, who could not reach agreement.48 Nonetheless, the CENTO Offensive Air Support Operations Guide was based on the NATO one, and the updating of the former would follow the review of the NATO guide.49 But not all NATO members agreed to give CENTO their naval tactical publications, and on this the CENTO allies were still awaiting the final NATO reply.50 The same month, at CENTO ministers’ meeting in London, Owen showed himself reluctant to help provide a more solid institutional framework for CENTO. The politico-military structure and activity of the alliance was ‘about the right amalgam … if you tried to fit it into too tight a framework I think you would be trying to make it more than it can be’.51 London and Washington were in agreement that CENTO should focus on its economic-development mission rather than on becoming a real NATOstyle alliance.52 The alliance that had aimed to contain the Soviets in the Middle East had now lost the interest of its founders and sponsors. There was no actual reference to the Soviet threat: it was simply mentioned that: We [the CENTO ministers] see no significant recent development in Soviet policy towards CENTO … the Soviet Union will continue to look for opportunities to extend her influence in the region, and vigilance to counter both Soviet overt and covert activities remains essential.53 Meanwhile, Moscow was working to improve its relations with Tehran and

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Ankara. The Russians did not oppose the Shah – they placed too high a value on their imports of Iranian oil. They also hoped that gradually Turkey would be persuaded that it was not getting enough from its membership of NATO; the US arms embargo had already put US-Turkish relations under considerable strain, and Russia claimed to hope that Turkey would follow a ‘balanced’ foreign policy between East and West.54 In his turn, the Shah worked for normalisation of the relations between Egypt and Israel. In January 1978, he visited Egypt and Saudi Arabia, and in February both Moshe Dayan and Menachem Begin were received in Tehran (though the latter’s visit remained secret). However, despite strong IranianIsraeli connections (Tehran being Israel’s main oil supplier), the Shah had become critical of Tel Aviv’s policy in the Middle East.55 London also was looking for ways to get the Shah’s assistance in seeing to it that Iranian oil for export to South Africa did not reach Rhodesia;56 the white-minority regime there (whose ‘Unilateral Declaration of Independence’ went unrecognised by any country) was being put under strong pressure. The Turks and the Pakistanis kept a low profile on the Arab/Israeli conflict, though siding with the Arabs. Turkey had experienced severe internal-security problems – from January to April 1978 over 100 government officials had been assassinated by leftist terrorists, and Prime Minister Bülent Eçevit even asked secretly for UK police advice, sending three top officials to London for consultations. In addition, the Turkish air force was interested in acquiring 40 Jaguar fighters, with credits reaching £255 million, but the Treasury in London did not consider Ankara sufficiently ‘credit-worthy’, and the MoD therefore opted for delaying any decision.57 On 27 April 1978 (a few days after the conclusion of the CENTO ministerial meeting in London), President Mohammad Daoud of Afghanistan was overthrown by leftists. CENTO allies expressed concern at the situation, but no policy decision was taken. At that time, the most important concern was US-Turkish relations – the arms credit-embargo decided by Congress, punishing Turkish aggression in Cyprus, had ‘resulted in a very definite lowering of the efficiency and preparedness of the Turkish armed forces,’ remarked Air Marshal Frederick Sowrey, the UK’s permanent military deputy at CENTO secretariat in Ankara. Also, rumours that Pakistan might leave the alliance at some point were causing alarm. Sowrey appeared unworried by any Russian threat, but deplored ‘the lack of military sophistication’ displayed by both Turkey and Iran during the latest CENTO command-post exercise, ‘Doost’. In August, Kamuran Gurun was appointed the alliance’s Secretary-General. Sowrey considered him ‘a perceptive, thinking individual who regards CENTO as being moribund

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and is determined to do something about it’. Delegates from the member states had been consulting on possible changes to the Situation Paper so as to agree on new political guidance for the military planners (though this consultation would eventually lead nowhere). Sowrey was also hopeful that the review of a previous Chiefs of Staff decision to decrease British military contributions to CENTO would demonstrate increased interest in the alliance.58 (Indeed, as he mentioned in a report of 2 January 1979, the Chiefs of Staff in London had indeed examined an increase in commitments to CENTO, estimating the financial contribution for upgrading the alliance’s military communications system.)59 Meanwhile, Sowrey considered that Iran could play a leading role in boosting the alliance by helping other regional members with their arms programmes: It will need a conscious realisation by Iran that it is in their own interests to help their regional neighbours by free or subsidised weapons supplies to enable the latter to update their own forces. In addition the regional countries have to recognise that coordination of the forces that currently exist gives CENTO a deterrent and defensive capability infinitely greater than the sum of the separate contribution of the three countries concerned. There is certainly no sign of that as yet … the initiative does not lie in our hands but in persuading the Shah to spend some of Iran’s wealth (on which there are many calls) in strengthening his neighbours in CENTO.60 But by the autumn the Shah was to find himself preoccupied – the Islamic revolution was under way. Demonstrations, riots, massacres and primeministerial resignations constituted the gloomy political and internalsecurity picture; and the ruler of Iran was unable to cope. London and Washington looked on without fully appreciating the strategic significance of events in Tehran and other Iranian cities. As Lawrence Freedman has put it, the ‘second radical wave’, led by Islamists, followed the ‘first radical wave’ of Arab nationalism in the Middle East.61 At the 11 October 1978 Permanent Military Deputies Group, the chairman, Lieutenant-General Thomas H. Tackaberry of the US Army, hinted at a US intention to get involved further in CENTO ground exercises (which for two decades the Americans had sedulously avoided). Tackaberry admitted ‘the difficulties that attempts to introduce ground forces participation would bring’ but he felt that ‘having US forces on the ground in regional countries would let both friend and foe see tangible evidence of US support and also give

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the US forces practice in the CENTO environment’. He had already discussed this sensitive (and, in the light of the existing US policy on CENTO, radical) matter with the Vice-Chief of Staff of the US Army who was of the same view. Tackaberry claimed that ‘some US proposals regarding US ground forces in CENTO exercises might well emerge’ but of course Washington was interested in the opinions of their allies. The Iranians wanted to present their positions at the next planning conference. The Pakistani representative took a negative stance, arguing that ‘the concept [of introducing US ground forces in exercises] had considerable political connotation. There was no political guidance relating to the matter and the arrival of foreign troops in Pakistan for example could have serious international complications’. Tackaberry insisted, repeating in vain that ‘it was very important to give tangible evidence of non-regional support and if participation by US forces was not acceptable in one country it might be in another’.62 Interestingly, the American general admitted that political as well as military considerations had so far inhibited US participation in the Shahbaz exercises ‘because of the poor training value offered’; he was in favour of upgrading the concept of the exercise.63 Evidently, the Carter administration was now showing some signs of interest in CENTO. But it was too late. In his next CENTO review, covering September to December 1978, Air Marshal Sowrey argued that ‘the most likely threat’ to CENTO stability was not Russia (‘whilst the Soviets have the capacity to launch a nuclear or conventional attack, direct hostilities towards one or more of the CENTO nations [are] unlikely’), but in the short term the breakdown of law and order in regional member-states. He suggested that Britain should offer help to the allies in counter-terrorism, counter-subversion and the training of internal-security forces. The Pakistanis, meanwhile, were irritated at Washington’s refusal to sell them A-7s, and Turkey continued to suffer from a serious socio-economic crisis and from terrorism. London had to be reminded of the Turkish policy over CENTO: [The Turks] still keep NATO and CENTO in watertight compartments. NATO is by far the more important as the country sees it as its prime means of defence and possibly an economic saviour. Turkish statements on CENTO are sometimes ambiguous…CENTO is a very low priority [in Turkish thinking]. Sowrey retracted his previous suggestion that Iran to play a leading role in CENTO: Events in Iran [since August 1978] have made such a move

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impracticable. It may not be a long time before stability in Iran is such that she could assume the natural leadership of the region. With Pakistan uncertain about whether to remain in the alliance and Turkey preoccupied with her economy and internal problems as well as her relationships with NATO and Greece, CENTO is without any form of positive leadership.64 He proposed that London and (especially) Washington should offer ‘practical and moral support’ to CENTO. The Americans would have to reconsider arming Pakistan, and Britain could also help the country (after the Iranian crisis was over, London and Washington declared their continuing support for CENTO). Nonetheless, he admitted that the Americans might be reviewing their CENTO policy. Sowrey was informed by the American representative that the Pentagon did not support the boosting of the alliance; but nothing conclusive was said. Finally, there was a fear that Pakistan might announce its departure from CENTO in February 1979, when a five-year period under the Baghdad Pact (which was still active) would expire, and any country wishing to withdraw could give six months’ notice under article 7.65 While widespread anti-government demonstrations were held in Tehran and other cities, an American diplomat admitted to the press that CENTO’s days might be numbered, saying that the alliance was ‘exactly the sort of thing the United States should not do in the Middle East today’.66 Strobe Talbot, a Time magazine correspondent, reporting from Tehran in September 1978, sarcastically remarked that, according to English dictionaries, cento was defined as ‘a patchwork of incongruous parts’.67 Meanwhile, Moscow, also surprised by the turn of events in Iran, feared an American intervention to save the Shah, confronting the Islamist clergy. On 19 November 1978 Brezhnev issued a warning: It must be made clear that any interference, let alone military intervention in the affairs of Iran – a state which has a common frontier with the Soviet Union – would be regarded by the USSR as a matter affecting its security interests.68 The Shah had no choice but to leave the country, which he did, together with his family, on 16 January 1979. The loss of Iran caused immense harm to Anglo-American strategy in the region. A startled President Carter, in seeking to show the world a different American foreign policy from the excesses of the Nixon administration, had put pressure on the Shah to respect human rights in Iran, but was now witnessing the fall of a strategic

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ally (an always cynical ally, as seen above, but still invaluable), armed with the latest American weaponry. US intelligence had given no warning either of the impending social disorder and the revolution, or of the rise of Islamic fundamentalism. On 17 January a special assistant to Under-Secretary of State Benson confided to the UK Ambassador that: ‘The right approach [to CENTO] is to leave the regional members to take the initiative.’ Britain and the United States should neither boost the alliance nor ‘hasten its demise’. He outlined an argument for scrapping CENTO while retaining the Baghdad Pact, if all signatories were in agreement. He personally favoured the future development of bilateral relations, rather than of CENTO. As to the reaction of Iran and Pakistan, the State Department would simply wait and see.69 At 9.30 am on 1 February 1979, the jumbo jet carrying Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini landed at Mehrabad airport from Paris. The 76-year-old cleric, influential and radical, was returning after 15 years of exile, marking the victory of the Islamic revolution. At the airport terminal, in the company of radical Islamists, he declared that the Shah had ‘destroyed our culture and turned it into a colonial culture … we are only victorious when we can cut the hands of the foreigners from our lands’.70 Moscow had changed its tone since the departure of the Shah, and now called Khomeini ‘the main figure in the popular anti-Shah movement’. Pravda (24 January 1979) commented on the ‘objective, progressive character of Shiite slogans’. On 3 March Brezhnev himself ‘welcomed the victory of the revolution’ and hoped for an improvement in relations with Tehran.71 But Khomeini refused to be charmed by the Russian overtures. Ideology and Islamic fundamentalism, as well as memories of the Russians’ past policy towards Iran, their invasion of Afghanistan in December 1979 and the start of the Iran-Iraq war (with Russia arming Baghdad), left few grounds for positive diplomacy. In August 1980, Tehran even threatened to break off diplomatic relations with Moscow unless it stopped arming Saddam Hussein. A November 1980 analysis by the FCO concluded: ... the Soviet leaders prefer not to criticize Iraq publicly or to disregard their treaty obligations to Iraq, so as to promote their image as a reliable partner to the Third World countries. At the same time, they are probably anxious to avoid jeopardizing altogether their present tentative relationship with Iran’s new Islamic government. Their solution to the dilemma as demonstrated in Soviet Press and radio commentaries on the conflict, has been to resort to a stridently antiUS line … [Russian broadcasts] have sought to exploit US-Iranian

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tensions and blamed ‘US imperialism’ for the hostilities.72 By the end of February 1979 the new regime in Iran announced its withdrawal from CENTO, and condemned any previous cooperation with the West. Pakistan followed, and Turkey saw no reason to remain the only regional country wishing to salvage the alliance. It was left to the Permanent Military Deputies Group in Ankara to lower CENTO’s flag who gathered for the last time on 15 May 1979. While the Iranian deputy did not attend, General Kenan Evren, the Chief of the Turkish General Staff (and the following year, on 12 September 1980, the leader of a coup) sent a farewell message to the last CENTO meeting, commending ‘the efficient and productive cooperation’ of the allied countries, and their important role in maintaining peace and stability.73 Lieutenant-General Ugur, the Turkish deputy, commented (with a degree of vanity) that he would like to have been the first to speak at the initial meeting of the alliance, but now he was addressing the last conference, having to talk of the past rather than the future, but spoke of CENTO’s achievement in upgrading the armed forces of the regional members.74 Pakistan’s Lieutenant-General Jehanzeb Arbab spoke of a sad occasion; partings are indeed sad events but in the past when we parted, we always hoped and expected to meet each other again as members of an alliance; this time we are saying good-bye for good, as there is little hope of ever meeting under the same arrangements and environments as members of a Pact … suffice to say that possibly too much was expected from an alliance which mostly remained on paper …What the alliance achieved or failed to achieve, we will leave to the future historians as we are too near the events to be able to judge dispassionately.75 Lieutenant-General Tackaberry, the American deputy, admitted that: The Pact has not fulfilled all its aspirations and objectives … but as everything contrived by human beings, it was imperfect. Its demise shall leave a legacy which will be valuable or meaningless. It is up to us. If we do all within our power to ensure a continuous foundation of friendship and meaningful communication and try to help one another, then that legacy will be good.76 Finally, Sir Frederick Sowrey provided the audience with a more positive

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overview, adding historical perspective: The area covered by the three regional members of this alliance has, for over three thousand years, seen the birth, evolution, and decline of numerous civilizations; it has seen great armies from the East and from the West conquer the territory; it has along with adjacent countries seen the founding of some of the world’s great religions; in many aspect it is the cradle of civilization as we know it today. By comparison the twenty-four years during which the three regional countries, together with the United States and the United Kingdom, have been bound together in this alliance under the Central Treaty Organisation for mutual security, have been short. Nevertheless this has been a turbulent quarter of a century and the success and achievements of the alliance are proved by the relative peace and security that have prevailed during its existence… although this will be our last formal meeting, rather than say ‘goodbye’ I will use the language of our host country and say ‘Allahaismarladik’ (God be with you), until we meet again.77

Conclusion

This study has demonstrated that the deterrent value of SEATO and CENTO was limited, since it transpired that neither Russia nor China was contemplating an invasion of the regional allied countries. British and American planners were hesitant in referring to the deterrent value of these alliances: references to ‘deterrent’ or ‘deterrence’ are rarely to be found in the declassified files. The regional allies were never convinced of the raisons d’être of SEATO and CENTO, but always attempted to extract more aid from Washington. Within CENTO, Iran was a somewhat cynical partner, Turkey was indifferent, while a cunning Pakistan was nonetheless disappointed at the absence of allied support in its wars with India. With respect to SEATO, the Philippines and Thailand worried about developments in Vietnam, and Australia and New Zealand, while genuinely anxious at the spread of communism in Asia, had neither the resources nor the influence to lead – their contribution in the Vietnam war was token and piecemeal while France opted not to get involved at all. Britain was always the cautious member in both alliances, while Washington baulked at full CENTO membership, and lost momentum in preparing the alliance for war in Vietnam when SEATO (blocked by Britain) declined to get involved. Despite Cold War rhetoric, American policy, from Eisenhower to Carter, took great care not to commit forces in advance to the defence of Asian and Middle Eastern allies. Essentially, the American involvement could not be taken for granted. The US forces scheduled for war-time deployments in the Middle East and Asia were very limited. In the event of conventional all-out Russian or Chinese invasion, the regional militaries would have promptly been on their own, and destroyed in a fortnight without help arriving on time in the shape of an Anglo-American naval/air force from the Mediterranean or the Indian Ocean; (the speedy deployment of large

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ground forces was not envisioned) and to what extent the Americans would have responded with tactical nuclear weapons is debatable. Britain and the United States were in agreement about providing modest support for the alliances, and avoided having to give more economic and military aid to their allies. Increased commitment ran the risk of having to satisfy escalating, extravagant requests for military aid. London and Washington had to be wary – their allies could have hijacked AngloAmerican policy and involved it in so called ‘local quarrels’. Threats in the form of communist subversion and propaganda, even in Indochina, were well below the threshold of conventional war, which might have made SEATO members agree to act. Besides, a SEATO conventional force could not have operated effectively in a jungle environment, having to deal with never-ending insurgencies and complex political crises in Laos, Vietnam, Cambodia and Thailand. Since the mid-1950s British strategy had been to restrain US adventurism in Asia; this was well served when the Americans became gradually less eager to confront communism in Asia with conventional forces – until their involvement in Vietnam from 1964 onwards. The ambition was, as Eden put it back in 1954, to preserve Britain’s status in Asia and the Middle East with the backing of the Americans; given the fiscal circumstances of the late 1950s and 1960s that eventually led to defence-spending cuts and the withdrawal from East of Suez, Britain gained influence and status from its membership of both SEATO and CENTO, especially with respect to the former and to Vietnam – the immense pressure which London was able to bring to bear on Washington, to keep the alliance uninvolved, showed that Britain retained enough influence to restrain the superpower’s strategic options in Asia. Conventional wisdom claims that Britain’s spending cuts in the years of détente eventually led to its withdrawing forces and limiting its military contributions to CENTO and SEATO. What this book documents, however, is that from the late 1950s onwards Britain had progressively lost interest in both CENTO and SEATO; it was not so much lack of money to spend overseas but the realisation that these alliances had lost their value in the contemporary world. Indeed, the military threat to CENTO and SEATO was declining, despite the acquisition of nuclear weapons by China in 1964. Examining year-by-year British and American intelligence assessments submitted to the conferences of the two alliances leads to the conclusion that they never sounded the alarm in their respective defence areas. Since the late 1950s Russia and Chinese had maintained formidable capabilities, but without

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any intention whatever of invading a SEATO or CENTO regional member; occasional threats by Khrushchev failed to scare even the most hawkish and pessimistic politicians in Washington. Eventually, Nixon and Kissinger worked on American relations with Russia and China, having abandoned Vietnam. They had no time for boosting SEATO and CENTO, nor any interest in doing so. As a strategist, Kissinger worked with bilateral and triangular relations; working with loose alliances did not suit the evolution of his thinking on the balance of power. This strategy pleased London; it was not only Britain that appeared uninterested in continuing indefinitely with these organisations. After a long process of politico-military ‘devaluation’, SEATO lost much of its credit-worthiness with Hanoi’s victory in Vietnam, and CENTO was finished off by the Islamic revolution in Iran and the hasty withdrawal of Pakistan. 1979 was the year that changed the strategic environment in the Middle East – the year that détente died (though only after killing off the two alliances) with the Russian invasion of Afghanistan. What if these alliances had managed to survive the 1970s and the 1980s? This is a ‘virtual history’ question, and the hypothetical answers attract (justified) criticism. We can only argue that President Ronald Reagan would have never lost any opportunity to refer to NATO-CENTO-SEATO as ‘alliances of free peoples’ confronting the ‘evil empire’. Margaret Thatcher would have agreed with him, but the Falklands war would have restrained the UK military contribution in CENTO and SEATO. We can also assume that after the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, the Americans would have armed Pakistan the way they did, without aiming to upgrade CENTO and SEATO institutionally, with charters. Iran would have withdrawn since Khomeini would not have liked to continue with the allies of the Shah. Beyond bilateral relations, the alliances might have been useful in political terms (not militarily, because the same levels of US military contributions and commitment could be assumed), in confronting Moscow, and showing Beijing the extent of American influence in the post-Vietnam war era.

NOTES

Introduction 1

Fenby, Jonathan, Alliance: The Inside Story of How Roosevelt, Stalin & Churchill Won One War & Began Another (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2007), p.1. 2 Ibid., p.434. 3 McKiernan, David, ‘Recommitment and shared interests: progress and the future of Afghan national security’, RUSI Journal, Vol. 154, No.2 (April 2009), pp. 6–11; Whitlock, Craig, ‘NATO chief: allies will provide 5,000 more troops’, Washington Post, 2 December 2009. 4 The only available study of SEATO covers the period up to 1965, part of a chapter in Lowe, Peter, Contending with Nationalism and Communism: British Policy towards Southeast Asia, 1945–1965 (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009); other works which might have referred to CENTO but (unfortunately) do not do so, include Cohen, Michael, Strategy and Politics in the Middle East, 1954–1960: Defending the Northern Tier (London: Routledge, 2005); Ashton, Nigel J. (ed.), The Cold War in the Middle East: Regional Conflict and the Superpowers, 1967–1973 (London: Routledge, 2007); Mauer, Victor (ed.), European-American Relations and the Middle East (London: Routledge, 2008); Ryan, David and Patrick Kiely (eds.), America and Iraq: Policy-making, Intervention and Regional Politics since 1958 (London: Routledge, 2008). Göktepe, Cihat, British Foreign Policy Towards Turkey, 1959–1965 (London: Routledge, 2003) assesses the performance of CENTO with reference only to Turkey. A couple of sentences are devoted to CENTO and SEATO in Thies, Wallace J., Why NATO Endures (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009) and in Sloan, Stanley, Permanent Alliances? NATO and the Transational Bargain from Truman to Obama (London: Continuum, 2010).

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Chapter 1. Britain and the United States: Shaping Alliances Beyond NATO 1 Walt, Stephen, M., The Origins of Alliances (London: Cornell University Press, 1987), p. 3. 2 Quoted in Gaddis, John Lewis, The Cold War: The Deals. The Spies. The Lies. The Truth (London: Penguin, 2005), p. 123. 3 Memorandum, Eden, 18 June 1952, CAB 129/53, The National Archives (hereafter TNA); Ruane, Kevin, ‘SEATO, MEDO and the Baghdad Pact: Anthony Eden, British foreign policy and the collective defence of Southeast Asia and the Middle East, 1952–1955’, Diplomacy and Statecraft, Vol. 16, No. 1 (2005), pp. 169–99. 4 Wilkinson to Foreign Office, 19 February 1953, FO 371/105180 TNA; 11 March 1953, FO 371/103513 TNA, both quoted in Ruane, ‘SEATO, MEDO and the Baghdad Pact’, p. 174. 5 Memorandum, FO, 19 September 1952 FO 371/101263 TNA. 6 Deery, Phillip, ‘Malaya, 1948: Britain’s Asian Cold War?’, Journal of Cold War Studies, Vol. 9, No.1 (winter 2007), p. 32. 7 Memorandum, Bevin, ‘The United Kingdom in Southeast Asia and the Far East’, 18 October 1949, CAB 129/37/1 TNA. 8 ‘Final declaration of the Geneva Conference on the problem of restoring peace in Indochina, 21 July 1954’, in ‘Report on Indochina: Report of Senator Mike Mansfield on a Study Mission to Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, Oct. 15, 1954’ (Senate Foreign Relations Committee, 83rd Cong., 2nd sess.), pp. 26–7, available at accessed 9 June 2010 9 MacDonald to FO, 7 August 1954, FO 371/111852 TNA. 10 Eden to FO, 17 July 1954, FO 371/112078 TNA. 11 ‘NATO Treaty: 4 April 1949’, in American Foreign Policy, 1950–1955: Basic Documents, Vol. 1, Department of State Publication 6446 (Washington, DC: GPO, 1957), available at , accessed 20 July 2010. 12 ‘Southeast Asia Collective Defense Treaty; 8 September 1954’, in American Foreign Policy, 1950–1955: Basic Documents, Vols. 1–2, Department of State Publication 6446 (Washington DC: GPO, 1957), available at , accessed 20 July 2010. 13 Memorandum of conversation, Eisenhower, Diem, Dulles et al, 9 May 1957, FRUS, 1955–57, Vol. I, pp. 797–8. 14 Memorandum of conversation, Diem, Chuong, Durbrow, 17 May

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1957, FRUS, 1955–57, Vol. I, p. 821. 15 Eisenhower to Churchill, 4 April 1954, Box 19, International Series, Papers of the President Eisenhower Library, quoted in Lombardo, Johannes R., ‘Eisenhower, the British and the security of Hong Kong, 1953–1960’, Diplomacy and Statecraft, Vol. 9, No. 3 (November 1998), p. 138; on Anglo-American policy and Hong Kong during the early Cold War, see Mark, Chi-kwan, Hong Kong and the Cold War: Anglo-American Relations, 1949–1957 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004). 16 Lombardo, ‘Eisenhower, the British and the Security of Hong Kong’, pp. 140, 143, 147. 17 Ibid, p. 148. 18 Memorandum, Assistant Legal Adviser for East Asian and Pacific Affairs (Aldrich) to Department of State Legal Adviser (Meeker), 16 May 1967, FRUS, 1964–68, Vol. XXX, available at , accessed 15 February, 10 May 2010. 19 State Department to US Consulate General (Hong Kong), 18 May 1967, FRUS, 1964–68, Vol. XXX, available at , accessed 15 February 2010. 20 ‘Southeast Asia Collective Defense Treaty; 8 September 1954’. 21 Memorandum of discussion, 214th meeting of NSC, 12 September 1954, FRUS, 1952–54, Vol. XII, p. 903. 22 Lowe, Peter, Contending with Nationalism and Communism: British Policy towards Southeast Asia, 1945–1965 (Basingstoke: Palgrave, 2009), p. 85. 23 Ibid, p. 91. 24 Quoted in Ruane, ‘SEATO, MEDO and the Baghdad Pact’, p. 179. 25 Beisner, L.Robert, Dean Acheson: A Life in the Cold War (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006), pp. 500-1. 26 ‘Security Treaty between the United States, Australia and New Zealand; 1 September 1951’, in American Foreign Policy, 1950–1955: Basic Documents, Vols. 1–2, Department of State Publication 6446 (Washington, DC: GPO, 1957), available at , accessed 20 July 2010. 27 ‘Mutual Defense Treaty Between the United States and the Republic of the Philippines; August 30, 1951’, American Foreign Policy 19501955: Basic Documents Volumes I and II, Department of State Publication 6446 (Washington DC: GPO, 1957) available at http://avalon. law.yale.edu/20th_century/phil001.asp, accessed 25 August 2010.

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28 ‘Security Treaty Between the United States and Japan; September 8, 1951’ American Foreign Policy 1950-1955: Basic Documents Volumes I and II, Department of State Publication 6446, (Washington, DC: GPO, 1957) available at , accessed 1 September 2010. 29 Beisner, Dean Acheson, p. 502. 30 Ruane, ‘SEATO, MEDO and the Baghdad Pact’, p. 177; Jones, Matthew, ‘The Radford bombshell: Anglo-Australian-US relations, nuclear weapons and the defence of South East Asia, 1954–1957’, Journal of Strategic Studies, Vol. 27, No. 4 (December 2004), p. 639. 31 Ibid, p. 174. 32 Position paper, Department of State: ‘The military role of Australia and New Zealand’ (‘Top Secret’), 29 December 1951, FRUS, 1952–54, Vol. XII, pp. 1–2. 33 Ibid, p. 3. 34 Memorandum, Joint Chiefs of Staff to Secretary of Defense, 28 December 1951, FRUS, 1952–54, Vol. XII, pp. 4–7. 35 Lowe, Contending with Nationalism and Communism, p. 75. 36 Minute, Cable, 20 August 1954, FO 371/111883 TNA, quoted in Ruane, ‘SEATO, MEDO and the Baghdad Pact’, p. 177. 37 Jones, ‘The Radford bombshell’, p. 641. 38 Ibid, p. 643. 39 Ibid. 40 Bangkok to Foreign Office, 24 February 1955, FO 371/116921 TNA. 41 Loewen to CIGS, 12 July 1955, FO 371/116929 TNA; FO to Singapore, 13 December 1955, FO 371/116932 TNA. 42 Scott to Allen, 29 November 1955 (D1071/472), ibid; Scott to Allen (D1071/501), FO 371/116933 TNA. 43 Scott to FO, 22 September 1955, PREM 11/1304 TNA. 44 Note by secretary, ‘Brief for the United Kingdom Military Adviser to SEATO’, 27 August 1956, COS (56)324, DEFE 5/71 TNA. 45 Jones, ‘The Radford bombshell’, p. 647. 46 Chairman of JCS (Radford) to Australian Ambassador (Spender), 28 July 1955, FRUS, Vol. XXI (Washington DC: GPO, 1990), pp. 121–2. 47 ‘The Probable Nature and Scale of the Communist Chinese Threat in the Far East in Conditions Short of Global War up to 1960’, COS (55)312, 25 November 1955, quoted in Jones, ‘The Radford bombshell’, pp. 651, 661.

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48 Jones, ‘The Radford bombshell’, p. 652. 49 Tory to Snelling, 31 July 1956, DEFE 11/174 TNA. 50 Jones, ‘The Radford bombshell’, p. 655. 51 Jones, ‘The Radford bombshell’; idem, ‘Targeting China: US nuclear planning and “massive retaliation” in East Asia, 1953–1954’, Journal of Cold War Studies, Vol. 10, No.4(fall 2008), pp. 37–65. 52 Quoted in Jones, ‘Targeting China’, pp. 37–65. 53 Planning paper on South and Southeast Asia, 11 August 1959, FO 371/144168 TNA. 54 Minute, Cable, 25 July 1956, FO 371/123235 TNA. 55 Minute, Cable, 17 August 1956, FO 371/123428 TNA. 56 Lowe, Contending with Nationalism and Communism, p. 91. 57 Paper presented by the Chairman of the JCS (Radford), 287th meeting of the National Security Council, 7 June 1957, FRUS, 1955–57, Vol. I, p. 704. 58 Macmillan to Sandys, 3 April 1959, FO 371/143740 TNA. 59 Lloyd to Sandys, 31 March 1958, PREM 11/4763 TNA. 60 Wellington to FO, 9 April 1959 (two telegrams), FO 371/143740 TNA. 61 Warner to Wright, 12 February 1960, FO 371/152172 TNA. 62 Brief for head of British delegation, 6th meeting of SEATO council, FO 371/152172 TNA. 63 Fain, Taylor, W., American Ascendance and British Retreat in the Persian Gulf Region (London: Palgrave, 2008), p. 28. 64 ‘Treaty of Joint Defense and Economic Cooperation Between the States of the Arab League’, June 17 1950, in American Foreign Policy, 1950-1955: Basic Documents, Vol. 1, Department of State Publication 6446 (Washington DC: GPO, 1957), available at , accessed 20 July 2010. 65 ‘An alternative approach to Middle East defense arrangements’, 1 May 1953, FRUS, 1952–54, Vol. IX, p. 365. 66 Deputy Under-Secretary of State (Matthews) to Secretary of Defense (Lovett), FRUS, 1951, Vol. V, p. 239. 67 Special National Intelligence Estimate 23 (‘Secret’), ‘Prospects for an inclusive Middle East Defence Organisation’, 17 March 1952, FRUS, 1952–54, Vol. IX, p. 199. 68 ‘The position of the United States with respect to the general area of the Eastern Mediterranean and Middle East’, 27 December 1951, FRUS, 1951, Vol. V, p. 258. 69 Ibid, p. 262.

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70 US minutes of the third US-French Foreign Ministers meeting, Washington, 27 March 1953, FRUS, 1952–54, Vol. IX, pp. 358–9. 71 Ambassador in Turkey (McGhee) to Department of State, 24 October 1952, FRUS, 1952–54, Vol. IX, p. 304. 72 ‘An alternative approach to Middle East defense arrangements’, p. 366. 73 Aide-mémoire, Department of State to British Embassy, 5 November 1952, FRUS, 1952–54, Vol. IX, p. 312. 74 Ambassador in India (Bowles) to Department of State, 20 November 1952, FRUS, 1952–54, Vol. IX, p. 318. 75 National Intelligence Estimate 76, ‘Conditions and trends in the Middle East affecting US security’, 15 January 1953, FRUS, 1952–54, Vol. IX, pp. 335–9. 76 Ibid, p. 337. 77 Ibid, p. 342. 78 Ibid, p. 343. 79 Department of State, minutes of State-Joint Chiefs of Staff meeting, 28 November 1952, FRUS, 1952–54, Vol. IX, p. 322. 80 Ibid, p. 323. 81 Ibid, pp. 324–5. 82 Ibid, pp. 320–1. 83 NSC, Statement of Policy, 14 July 1953, FRUS, 1952–54, Vol. IX, pp. 402–3. 84 Memorandum of discussion, 153rd meeting of NSC, 9 July 1953, FRUS, 1952–54, Vol. IX, p. 395. 85 FRUS, 1952–54, Vol. IX, pp. 487, 490. 86 Ambassador in Iraq (Berry) to Department of State, 22 March 1953, FRUS, 1952–54, Vol. IX, p. 354. 87 National Intelligence Estimate, ‘Prospects for creation of a Middle East defense grouping and probable consequences of such a development’, 22 June 1954, FRUS, 1952–54, Vol. IX, pp. 519–20. 88 Knight to Murphy (interdepartmental communication), 31 August 1959, FRUS, 1958–60, Vol. XII (Washington DC: GPO, 1993), pp. 235–6. 89 Memorandum, Arthur, 31 March 1955, FO 371/115505 TNA, quoted in Ashton, Nigel, ‘The hijacking of a pact: the formation of the Baghdad Pact and Anglo-American tensions in the Middle East, 1955– 1958’, Review of International Studies, Vol. 19, No. 2 (1993), p. 133. 90 Baghdad Pact, 4 February 1955, in American Foreign Policy, 19501955: Basic Documents, Vol. 1, Department of State Publication 6446 (Washington, DC: GPO, 1957), available at , accessed 20 July 2010.

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91 CENTO Ministerial Meeting, Karachi, ‘Contacts with NATO and SEATO’, 30 April–1 May 1963, Brief No. 4, FO 371/178934 TNA. 92 Steering Committee, ‘Contacts between NATO, CENTO and SEATO’, 4 June 1963, FO 371/173314 TNA. 93 ‘Contacts with NATO and SEATO’. 94 Ibid. 95 Little, Douglas, ‘His finest hour? Eisenhower, Lebanon, and the 1958 Middle East crisis’, Diplomatic History, Vol. 20, No. 1 (January 1996), pp. 27–54. 96 Department of State to US Embassy Iraq, 8 February 1958, FRUS, 1958–60, Vol. XIII (Washington DC: GPO, 1992), p. 420; British Embassy in Washington to FO, 19 October 1957, PREM 11/2119 TNA. 97 Fain, American Ascendance and British Retreat, p. 97. 98 Ibid, pp. 51, 93. 99 Dockrill, Saki, Britain’s Retreat from East of Suez: The Choice between Europe and the World? (London: Palgrave, 2002), p. 25. 100 Burrows to FO, 4 February 1959, FO 371/140685 TNA. 101 Caccia to FO, 9 October 1959, PREM 11/3879 TNA. 102 Letter, Acting Assistant Secretary of Defense for International Security Affairs (Knight) to Under Secretary of State for Political Affairs (Murphy), 31 August 1959, FRUS, 1958–60, Vol. XII (Washington DC: GPO, 1993), pp. 235–6. 103 Burrows to FO, 4 February 1959, FO 371/140685 TNA. 104 Secretary of Defence to Prime Minister, 5, 7 December 1960, PREM 11/3879 TNA. 105 Memorandum, Deputy Assistant Secretary of State for Policy Planning (Matthews) to Assistant Secretary of State for Near Eastern and South Asia Affairs (Jones), 27 July 1959, FRUS, 1958–60, Vol. XII, p. 228, n. 1. 106 ‘Joint Chiefs of Staff views on the role of the United States in CENTO’, Appendix, FRUS, 1958–60, Vol. XII, pp. 281–3. 107 Ibid, p. 284. 108 Memorandum, Under Secretary of State (Dillon) to Secretary of State (Herter), 23 September 1959, FRUS, 1958–60, Vol. XII, p. 237. 109 Ibid. 110 NSC statement, long-range US policy toward the Near East, 24 January 1958, FRUS, 1958–60, Vol. XII, p. 22. 111 Special National Intelligence Estimate, ‘The Middle East Crisis’, 22 July 1958, FRUS, 1958–60, Vol. XII, p. 91. 112 Memorandum, Deputy Assistant Secretary of State for Policy Planning

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(Matthews) to Assistant Secretary of State for Near Eastern and South Asia Affairs (Jones), 27 July 1959, FRUS, 1958–60, Vol. XII, p. 228. 113 Burrows to FO, ‘Annual review of Turkey for 1962’, 18 December 1962, FO 371/164011 TNA. 114 Memorandum, Assistant Secretary of State for Near Eastern and South Asian Affairs (Jones) to Under Secretary of State for Political Affairs (Merchant), 10 March 1960, FRUS, 1958–60, Vol. XII, p. 244. 115 Memorandum of conversation, ‘CENTO command structure’, 22 March 1960, FRUS, 1958–60, Vol. XII, p. 246. 116 ‘The future of Anglo-American relations’, CAB 134/1935 TNA, quoted in Taylor, American Ascendance and British Retreat, pp. 82, 110. 117 National Intelligence Estimate 1-61, 17 January 1961, p. 12, available at , accessed 16 December 2010. Chapter 2. Pakistan’s Strategy 1

Memorandum, C.C. Kirkpatrick, Office of Assistant Secretary of Defense for International Security Affairs, 18 January 1955, FRUS, 1955– 57, Vol. VIII, p. 415. 2 Conference, General Sexton and Ambassador Hildreth, Karachi, 17 February 1955, ibid, p. 419. 3 National Intelligence Estimate 52-55, ‘Probable developments in Pakistan’, 15 March 1955, ibid, p. 424. 4 Memorandum, Wilson to Hensel, 25 June 1955, ibid, p. 429. 5 Memorandum from Operations Coordination (Bishop) to Assistant Secretary of State (Allen), 28 July 1955, ibid, p. 433. 6 US Embassy to Department of State, 15 September 1955, ibid, p. 438. 7 Assistant Secretary of Defense for International Security Affairs (Gray) to Under Secretary of State (Hoover), 5 December 1955, ibid, p. 451 8 Department of State to Secretary of State (Dulles), 9 March 1956, ibid, p. 460. 9 US Embassy to Department of State, 17 February 1956, ibid, p. 456. 10 Memorandum of conversation (Nixon, Mirza et al), 9 July 1956, ibid, p. 463. 11 Ibid, p. 464. 12 Ibid, p. 465. 13 Ibid, p. 469. 14 Memorandum of conversation (Dulles, Lloyd et al), 30 January 1958, FRUS, 1958–60, Vol. XV, p. 619.

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15 Memorandum of conversation (Nixon, Mirza et al), 9 July 1956, FRUS, 1955–57, Vol. VIII, p. 467. 16 National Intelligence Estimate 52-56, ‘Probable developments in Pakistan’, 13 November 1956, ibid, p. 474. 17 US Embassy to Department of State, 30 March 1957, ibid, p. 477. 18 Ambassador in Pakistan (Langley) to Assistant Secretary of State (Rountree), 27 December 1957, ibid, p. 487. 19 Ibid, p. 488. 20 Ibid, p. 489. 21 Memorandum of conversation (Amjad, Rountree et at), 29 April 1958, FRUS, 1958–60, Vol. XV, p. 637. 22 Ibid, p. 639. 23 Memorandum for files, Ambassador to Pakistan (Langley), 17 September 1958, ibid, p. 660. 24 Memorandum for record, meeting (Sprague, Ayub et al), 29 April 1958, ibid, pp. 642–3. 25 Assistant Secretary of Defense (Irwin) to Under Secretary of State’s Special Assistant (Barnes), 21 November 1958, ibid, p. 683. 26 Department of State to Embassy in Pakistan, 7 April 1959, ibid, pp. 708–9. 27 National Intelligence Estimate 52-59, ‘The outlook for Pakistan’, 5 May 1959, ibid, p. 717. 28 Memorandum, Deputy Director of the Office of South Asia Affairs (Adams) to Assistant Secretary of State (Rountree), 5 May 1959, ibid, p. 719. 29 Memorandum of conversation (Rountree, Aziz et al), 8 May 1959, ibid, p. 728. 30 Department of State to Embassy in Pakistan, 27 May 1959, ibid, p. 730. 31 Memorandum of conversation (Eisenhower, Ayub, General Goodpaster et al), 8 December 1959, ibid, p. 789. 32 Ibid, p. 791. 33 Ibid, p. 782. 34 Ibid, p. 788. 35 Embassy in Pakistan to Department of State, 5 March 1960, ibid, p. 801. 36 Department of State to Embassy in Pakistan, 26 January 1960, ibid, p. 796. 37 Officer in charge of Pakistan-Afghanistan affairs (Poullada) to Special Assistant at Embassy in Pakistan (Linebaugh), 14 March 1960, ibid, p. 804. 38 Ibid, p. 805. 39 Ibid, p. 806. 40 Assistant Secretary of State (Jones) to Deputy Undersecretary (Hare), 2 December 1960, ibid, p. 820.

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41 Embassy (Ankara) to Foreign Office, 17 March 1962, PREM 11/4922 TNA. 42 FRUS, 1961–63, Vol. XIX, at , accessed 10 February 2010. 43 Ayub to Kennedy, 12 November 1962, FRUS, 1961–63, Vol. XIX, at , accessed 11 February 2010. 44 Embassy (Ankara) to Foreign Office, 17 March 1962, PREM 11/4922 TNA; meeting (Merchant, Picher et al), 11 March 1960, FRUS, 1958– 60, Vol. XII, p. 245. 45 High Commission (Delhi) to Commonwealth Relations Office, 26 March 1962, PREM 11/4922 TNA. 46 Embassy (Ankara) to Foreign Office, 1 February 1965, FO 1110/1944 TNA. 47 H.J. Spence to Foreign Office, 1 May 1965, ibid. 48 Record, conversation Foreign Secretary and Rusk, 29 April 1962, PREM 11/4922 TNA. 49 Foreign Office to Embassies (Ankara, Tehran), ‘CENTO Ministerial Meeting’, 1 May 1962, ibid; Foreign Office to Embassies (Ankara, Tehran), ‘Final Communiqué’, 1 May 1962, ibid. 50 Home to Macmillan, ‘CENTO planning for limited war’, 22 April 1963, ibid. 51 Brief No. 5, ‘CENTO Ministerial Meeting, London 23–24 April 1968: British Defence Policy’, 10 April 1968, FCO 17/175 TNA. 52 ‘The Problems of CENTO’, 7 April 1964, FO 371/175613 TNA. 53 Ibid. 54 Ibid. 55 Ward (High Commission, Karachi) to Simmons, 26 February 1965, FO 371/180701 TNA. 56 ‘The Problems of CENTO’, 7 April 1964, FO 371/175613 TNA. 57 Ibid. 58 Allen to Butler, 1 January 1964, FO 371/175613 TNA. 59 Ibid. 60 Ibid. 61 Ibid. 62 Ibid. 63 Ward (High Commission, Karachi) to Simmons, 26 February 1965, FO 371/180701 TNA. 64 Ibid. 65 Commonwealth Relations Office (position paper) to High Commis-

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sions, ‘The dispute between Indian and Pakistan over the Rann of Kutch’, 18 April 1965, PREM 13/391 TNA. 66 Colman, Jonathan, ‘Britain and the Indo-Pakistani conflict: the Rann of Kutch and Kashmir’, Journal of Imperial and Commonwealth History, Vol. 37, No. 3 (September 2009), p. 469. 67 Rusk to Embassy in Pakistan, 23 July 1965, FRUS, 1964–68, Vol. XXV, at , accessed 10 February 2010. 68 ‘Pakistan and Kashmir: a tragic misadventure’, 25 October 1965, DO 196/388 TNA. 69 Memorandum for record, meeting with President on Kashmir, 2 September 1965, FRUS, 1964–68, Vol. XXV, at , accessed 10 February 2010. 70 Washington to Foreign Office, 6 September 965, DO 196/384 TNA quoted in Colman, ‘Britain and the Indo-Pakistani conflict’, p. 478. 71 Rusk to Embassy in Pakistan, 5 September 1965, FRUS, 1964–68, Vol. XXV, at , accessed 10 February 2010. 72 Colman, ‘Britain and the Indo-Pakistani conflict’, p. 473. 73 Rumbold to Freeman, 30 September 1965, PREM 13/395 TNA. 74 Conversation between Prime Minister and High Commissioner (Freeman), 7 September 1965, PREM 13/393 NA, quoted in Colman, ‘Britain and the Indo-Pakistani conflict’, p. 474. 75 Memorandum prepared in the Office of Current Intelligence, Central Intelligence Agency, ‘Possible Sino-Pakistani military agreement’, 6 September 1965, FRUS, 1964–68, Vol. XXV, at , accessed 10 February 2010. 76 Memorandum for record, President’s meeting with John Bonny, 4 August 1965, ibid. 77 R.W. Komer (National Security Council Staff) to Johnson, 9 August 1965, ibid. 78 Special Intelligence Estimate 13-10-65, ‘Prospects of Chinese communist involvement in the Indo-Pakistani war’, 16 September 1965, FRUS, 1964–68, Vol. XXV, at , accessed 10 February 2010. 79 Department of State to US Embassy (New Delhi), 18 September 1965, FRUS, 1964–68, Vol. XXV, at , accessed 11 February 2011.

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80 R.W. Komer (National Security Council Staff) to Johnson, 10 September 1965, FRUS, 1964–68, Vol. XXV, at , accessed 10 February 2010. 81 ‘India: India and Pakistan: the Three Weeks’s War’, 19 October 1965, DO 196/387 TNA, quoted in Colman, ‘Britain and the Indo-Pakistani conflict’, p. 475. 82 Cabinet Defence and Overseas Policy Committee, Defence Review Working Party, 15 October 1965, CAB 148/52 TNA. 83 Minutes of meeting, Defence Review Working Party, Cabinet Defence and Overseas Policy Committee, 12 October 1965, ibid. 84 Allen to Foreign Office, 2 October 1965, FO 371/180701 TNA. 85 Kennedy to Macmillan, 1 June 1962, FRUS, 1961–63, Vol. XIX, at , accessed 11 February 2010; Galbraith (US Embassy) to State Department, 25 July 1962, FRUS, 1961–63, Vol. XIX, at , accessed 11 February 2010. 86 Memorandum, ‘Soviet Policy towards India and Pakistan’, 29 July 1966, FO 370/2881 TNA. 87 Ibid. 88 Ibid. 89 Cabinet Defence and Overseas Policy Committee, Defence Review Working Party. ‘Indo-Pacific Strategy’, 6 October 1965, CAB 148/52 TNA. 90 Ibid. 91 Brief No. 2, ‘CENTO Ministerial Council 1968’, 10 April 1968, FCO 17/175 TNA. 92 Brief No. 4, ‘CENTO Ministerial Council 1968; Review of the International Situation’, 29 April 1968, ibid. 93 Brief No. 9, ‘CENTO Ministerial Council 1968; Liaison Committee Report’, 10 April 1968, FCO 17/175 TNA. 94 Brief No. 6, Communist intentions and activities particularly in the Middle East’, April 1968, ibid. 95 Memorandum of conversation (Nixon, Kissinger, Stoessel), 9 September 1969, FRUS, 1969–76, Vol. XVII, pp. 80–1. 96 ‘CENTO Political Guidance for the Military Committee’, (no day/ month) 1968, FCO 17/175 TNA. 97 Brief No. 2, ‘CENTO Ministerial Council 1968’, 10 April 1968, ibid. 98 Makinson to Arthur, ‘CENTO: Basic Assumption for Global War’, 22

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January 1969, FCO 17/803 TNA. 99 Campbell to Makinson, 1 January 1969, ibid. 100 FRUS, 1969–76, Vol. XVII, p. 52; Aijazuddin, F.S., From a Head, Through a Head, to a Head: The Secret Channel Between the US and China Through Pakistan (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000). 101 Special National Intelligence Estimate 13-69, 6 March 1969, FRUS, 1969–76, Vol. XVII, p. 23. 102 Analytical Summary prepared by the National Security Council staff, 12 July 1971, FRUS, 1969–76, Vol. XI (Washington, DC: GPO, 2005), p. 260. 103 Memorandum of conversation (Kissinger, Huang, Bush et al), 10 December 1971, ibid, p. 754. 104 Transcript, telephone conversation, Secretary of State (Rogers) and President’s Assistant for National Security Affairs (Kissinger), 23 December 1971, FRUS, 1969–76, Vol. E-7, at , accessed 20 May 2010. 105 ‘CENTO Secretary-General Menemencioglu Talks: The Plot to destroy Pakistan’, Kayhan International, 8 December 1971, FCO 17/1407 TNA. 106 Minutes of meeting, Washington Special Action Group (Kissinger, Helms et al), 8 December 1971, FRUS, 1969–76, Vol. XI, p. 695. 107 Ibid, p. 698 108 Ibid, p. 699. 109 Editorial note on Nixon-Kissinger meeting, 12 December 1971, ibid, p. 782. 110 Embassy in London to Department of State, 15 December 1971, FRUS, 1969–76, Vol. E-7, at , accessed 20 May 2010. 111 Lord Cromer to Foreign and Commonwealth Office, 14 December 1971, FCO 17/1407 TNA. 112 Memorandum of Conversation (Nixon, Kissinger, Heath, Douglas-Home et al), 21 December 1971, FRUS, 1969–76, Vol. XI, pp. 865–7. 113 Pumphrey to FCO, ‘Pakistan: Annual Review for 1972’, 1 January 1973, FCO 37/1332 TNA. 114 Fletcher to Dear, 1 March 1974, FCO 37/1511 TNA. 115 Phillips to Wright, ‘United Kingdom policy on CENTO’, 15 March 1974, FCO 37/1511 TNA. 116 Dean to Seaward, 1 February 1974, ibid. 117 Memorandum, Assistant Secretary of Defense (Nutter) to Secretary of

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Defense (Laird), 30 December 1971, FRUS, 1969–76, Vol. E-7, at , accessed 21 May 2010. 118 Chiefs of Staff Committee, ‘Military implications of Pakistan’s decision to leave the Commonwealth and SEATO and possible withdrawal from CENTO’, 1 December 1972, pp. A3–A5, DEFE 5/195 TNA. 119 Cable to Private Secretary, May 1972, undated, FCO 8/1828 TNA. 120 Tesh to Cable, 5 June 1972, ibid. 121 Ibid. 122 White to Goulden, ‘secret’, 16 June 1972, ibid. 123 Skilbeck to Watts, ‘The possibility of Pakistan withdrawing from SEATO’, 19 February 1971, FCO 17/1681 TNA. Chapter 3. CENTO’s Nuclear Bombers and Cyprus 1

Defence and Overseas Policy Committee, ‘Mediterranean Study’, 15 October 1965, CAB 148/52 TNA. 2 ‘Coordination of Strike Plans for General War: Southern Russia’, undated, AIR 2/13383 TNA. 3 ‘Coordination of Strike and Reconnaissance Plans for General War’, 18 December 1967, ibid. 4 Defence and Overseas Policy Committee, ‘Mediterranean and the Middle East’, 5 May 1965, CAB 148/52 TNA. 5 Defence and Overseas Policy Committee, ‘Defence Review Working Party: Mediterranean Study’, 28 September 1965, ibid. 6 Ibid. 7 Morris to Wright, 2 December 1966, FO 371/186509 TNA. 8 Secretary of State for Commonwealth to Secretary of Defence, ‘Defence Expenditure in Cyprus’, 21 December 1967, DEFE 13/539 TNA. 9 Secretary of State for Defence to Foreign Secretary, 17 April 1967, ibid. 10 R.M. Hastie-Smith (MoD) to R. Parsons (FO), 25 April 1967, ibid. 11 Secretary of State for Defence, ‘Defence Expenditure in Cyprus’, 1 May 1967, ibid. 12 Morris to Wright, 2 December 1966, FO 371/186509 TNA. 13 Ibid. 14 Ibid. 15 Morris to Allen, 6 January 1966, ibid. 16 Allen to Morris, 17 January 1966, ibid. 17 Chiefs of Staff Committee, ‘Review of the Year in CENTO’, 1 Decem-

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ber 1972, Annex A to COS 12/73, DEFE 5/195 TNA. 18 ‘24th Meeting of the CENTO Military Committee’, Item 5, ‘CENTO Air Matters’, ibid. 19 ‘The deployment and roles of RAF units in Cyprus and commanded from Cyprus now and post-April 1976’, 23 November 1975, DEFE 68/90 TNA. 20 ‘23rd Meeting of the CENTO Military Committee’, Item 6, ‘CENTO Communications System’, DEFE 5/195 TNA. 21 McNamara, Robert, ‘Britain, Nasser and the outbreak of the Six Day War’, Journal of Contemporary History, Vol. 35, No. 4 (Oct 2000) p. 627. 22 ‘The importance to the UK of the Sovereign Base Areas in Cyprus’, 8 March 1971, DEFE 5/189 TNA. 23 Ibid. 24 ‘FCO brief for visit of CENTO Secretary-General to the UK’, 6–13 March 1976, FCO 8/2652 TNA. 25 ‘The importance to the UK of the Sovereign Base Areas in Cyprus’. 26 ‘The Strategic Importance of Cyprus’, 26 September 1973, FCO 46/1917 TNA. 27 ‘The importance to the UK of the Sovereign Base Areas in Cyprus’. 28 ‘Joint Theatre Plan Near East No. 102’, 24 April 1972, DEFE 5/192/44 TNA. 29 ‘24th Meeting of the CENTO Military Committee’, Item 7, DEFE 5/195 TNA. 30 ‘The Strategic Importance of Cyprus’, 24 September 1973, FCO 46/ 1017 TNA. 31 Extracts from letter AOC-in-C NEAF to CAS following his visit to Iran, May 1974, DEFE 25/386 TNA. 32 Burr, William (ed.), The Iranian Nuclear Programme, 1974–1978; full list of declassified files of the US State Department held at the National Security Archives, Washington, DC, at , accessed 1 July 2010. 33 ‘The Strategic Importance of Cyprus’, Draft 6, 3 October 1973, FCO 46/1017 TNA. 34 Chiefs of Staff Committee/Defence Policy Staff, ‘The Importance to the United Kingdom of Military Facilities in Cyprus’, 23 October 1973, FCO 46/1018 TNA. 35 FCO to Missions, No. 313, 6 October 1973, FCO 93/254 TNA, quoted in Hughes, Geraint, ‘Britain, the Transatlantic Alliance, and the Arab-Israeli War of 1973’, Journal of Cold War Studies, Vol. 10, No. 2 (Spring 2008), pp. 21–5, 33.

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36 Ibid, p. 24. 37 Note, ‘Non-NATO Commitments’, 5 June 1974, DEFE 25/222 TNA. 38 Defence Review, ‘Consultation over Cyprus’, 14 June 1974, DEFE 25/223 TNA. 39 Note, MoD, ‘Political implications of the curtailment of British defence commitments outside NATO’, 21 May 1974, DEFE 25/221 TNA. 40 Note, FCO, 12 June 1974, DEFE 25/223 TNA. 41 ‘United Kingdom Defence Policy’, Part VII, Conclusion, Annex B, DEFE 25/221 TNA. 42 Note, MoD, ‘Political implications of the curtailment of British defence commitments outside NATO’. 43 ‘Turkey’s attitude to NATO and CENTO’, 11 September 1974, FCO 9/2216 TNA. 44 ‘British presence in Cyprus after the Defence Review’, DEFE 25 68/90 TNA. 45 Note, FCO, ‘Non-NATO Commitments’, 12 June 1974, DEFE 25/223 TNA. 46 ‘British presence in Cyprus after the Defence Review’. 47 ‘Cyprus Background Note’, ibid. 48 ‘Record of meeting (Cary/Ramsbotham), 9 July 1975, ibid. 49 Ramsbotham to FCO, 12 March 1974, FCO 9/2216 TNA. 50 Phillips to Wright, 15 March 1974, ibid. 51 ‘The deployment and roles of RAF units in Cyprus. 52 ‘British presence in Cyprus after the Defence Review’. 53 Note, FCO, ‘Non-NATO Commitments’. 54 Ibid. 55 ‘UK Support for CENTO’, Annex B, p. B-2, AIR 8/2798 TNA. 56 Briefing for CENTO PMDG, ‘Changes in RAF Organization since the 1974 Defence Review’, 18 July 1977, AIR 8/2799 TNA. 57 Callaghan to UK Embassies (Ankara, Tehran, Islamabad), 29 November 1974, FCO 9/2216 TNA. 58 Exercise Shahbaz ’77, ‘Reception for Pakistan National Defence College’, 2 May 1977, AIR 8/ 2799 TNA. 59 RAF aircraft for the PMDG Ankara tour 1977 and RAF participation in CENTO exercises, 10 November 1976, AIR 8/2798 TNA. 60 Item 5, ‘CENTO Military Communications’, Appendix 5 to Annex A, ibid. 61 UKPMD to CAS, 13 October 1976, ibid.

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62 CAS to UKPMD, 25 October 1976, ibid. 63 CAS to UKPMD, 18 January 1977, AIR 8/2798 TNA. 64 CAS to Air Secretary, 9 May 1977, AIR 8/2799 TNA. Chapter 4. SEATO: Planning and Divisions 1 British Information Services, ‘The South-East Asia Treaty Organisation’, April 1965, FO 371/180577 TNA, p. 7. 2 McKnight, David, ‘Western intelligence and SEATO’s war on subversion, 1956–63’, Intelligence & National Security, Vol. 20, No. 2, (Spring 2005), p. 300. 3 Ibid, p. 292. 4 Ibid, p. 293. 5 Ibid, p. 294. 6 Ibid, p. 295. 7 Ibid. 8 Ibid. 9 Ibid. 10 Ibid, p. 299. 11 Ibid, p. 298. 12 Ibid, p. 299. 13 Sixth Meeting of the SEATO Council, full list of plans, 31 May–3 June 1960, Part IV, ‘SEATO Planning’, FO 371/152172 TNA. 14 Memorandum for UK Military Adviser; ‘Political Aspects of SEATO, Plan 5c/59’, 11 May 1960, ibid. 15 Sixth Meeting of the SEATO Council, ibid. 16 Ibid. 17 Ibid. 18 Ibid. 19 Ibid. 20 Note of meeting with Malcolm Booker, Australian Minister in Washington and Ambassador-designate in Bangkok, 5 May 1960, FO 371/152172 TNA. 21 De la Mare to Warner, 24 February 1960, FO 371/152169 TNA. 22 ‘Discussion with Mr Nash on tactics at the SEATO Council Meeting on contingency planning for Laos’, 25 April 1960, FO 371/152172 TNA. 23 De la Mare to Warner, 5 April 1960, ibid. 24 Warner to MacDermot, 12 March 1960, FO 371/ 152170 TNA. 25 FO to UK Embassy (Washington), 17 March 1960, ibid.

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26 Warner to de la Mare, 14 April 1960, FO 371/152172 TNA. 27 Memorandum, MoD, ‘SEATO Contingency Planning for Laos’, April 1960, ibid. 28 De la Mare to Warner, 25 April 1960, ibid. 29 Whittington to Warner, 18 May 1960, FO 371/152173 TNA. 30 Chalmers to Secondé, 4 August 1960, ibid. 31 Simons to Warner, 18 October 1960, FO 371/152172 TNA. 32 Minute, Secondé, 8 March 1960, FO 371/152171 TNA. 33 ‘Legal consequences of lack of agreement among South East Asia Treaty Organisation members in connection with the application of article IV of the Manila pact’, ibid. 34 Ibid. 35 Minute, Ormsby Gore, 23 August 1960, FO 371/152348 TNA, quoted in Lowe, Contending with Nationalism and Communism, p. 174. 36 Addis to Home, 24 August 1960, FO 371/152349 TNA, quoted in Lowe, Contending with Nationalism and Communism, p. 175. 37 Warner to Peck, 29 November 1960, FO 371/152168 TNA. 38 Warner to Peck, 6 December 1960, ibid. 39 Peck to Warner, ‘SEATO 13th Conference of Military Advisers’, 22 November 1960, ibid. 40 Ibid. 41 Warner to MacDermot, ‘Laos: likely consequence of SEATO military intervention under the present SEATO MPO Plan 5’, 1 December 1960, FO 371/152173 TNA. 42 Ibid. 43 Fisher to Home, 27 June 1963, FO 371/170055 TNA. 44 Ibid. 45 UK Embassy (Bangkok) to FO, 1 June 1961, FO 371/159747 TNA. 46 UK Embassy (Bangkok) to Chancery, 25 May 1961, ibid. 47 Lowe, Contending with Nationalism and Communism, p. 181. 48 Ibid, p. 184 49 Research memorandum, ‘The Sino-Soviet Economic Offensive in the SEATO area during 1961–1962’, 28 June 1963, FO 371/170056 TNA. 50 Longmire to Campbell, ‘Voting procedure in SEATO’, 23 December 1965, FO 371/180441 TNA. 51 Minute, Butler, 18 March 1960, FO 371/152171 TNA. 52 British Information Services, ‘The South-East Asia Treaty Organisation’, p. 9. 53 Memorandum, Forrestal to Kennedy, 14 May 1962, FRUS 1961– 63, Vol. XXIV, available at , accessed 14 March 2010. 54 Memorandum of conversation (Harriman, Bundy et al), 15 May 1962, ibid. 55 Memorandum of telephone conversation (Kennedy/Ball), 11 May 1962, ibid. 56 Memorandum of discussion with Eisenhower, 13 May 1962, ibid. 57 Memorandum of telephone conversation (Kennedy/Ball), ibid. 58 Memorandum of conversation (Rusk, Taylor, Lemnitzer et al), 2 June 1962, ibid. 59 Memorandum, Hilsman to Harriman, 12 May 1962, ibid. 60 Rumbold to Cable, 8 December 1965, FO 371/180441 TNA. 61 FO to UK Embassy (Washington), 25 March 1960, FO 371/152170 TNA. 62 ‘Outline of SEATO Military Plans’, 8 December 1965, FO 371/180441 TNA. 63 Ibid. 64 Ibid. 65 Ibid. 66 Brief, Eighth Meeting of the SEATO Council, Paris, 8–10 April 1963, FO 371/170046 TNA. 67 Ibid. 68 ‘Outline of SEATO Military Plans’, 8 December 1965, FO 371/180441 TNA. 69 Singapore to Foreign Office, 23 October 1964, FO 371/175401 TNA. 70 Foreign Office to UK Embassy (Washington), 27 October 1964, ibid. 71 Ibid. 72 Ibid. 73 FO to UK Embassy (Bangkok), 6 November 1964, FO 371/175401 TNA. 74 UK Embassy (Bangkok) to FO, 12 November 1965, ibid. 75 Ibid. 76 Ibid. 77 Memorandum, 31 August 1964, CAB 158/53 TNA; Memorandum, 17 September 1964, COS 228/64, DEFE 5/153 TNA. Both quoted in Lowe, Contending with Nationalism and Communism, p. 184. 78 Ibid, p. 183. 79 Hopson to Stewart, 30 April 1965, FO 371/180258 TNA, quoted in ibid, p. 185.

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Chapter 5. SEATO and Vietnam 1 Wright to Wilson, 28 January 1966, PREM 13/905 TNA. 2 Bush, Peter, ‘Supporting the war: Britain’s decision to send the Thompson Mission to Vietnam, 1960–61’, Cold War History, Vol. 2, No. 1 (October 2001), pp. 69–94; Beckett, Ian, ‘Robert Thompson and the British Advisory Mission to South Vietnam, 1961–1965’, Small Wars and Insurgencies, Vol. 8, No. 3 (winter 1997), pp. 41–63. 3 Record of conversation, 28 April 1962, FO 371/166703 TNA, quoted in Lowe, Contending with Nationalism and Communism, p. 144. 4 CIA, Special National Intelligence Estimate 10-3-61, ‘Probable communist reactions to certain SEATO undertakings in South Vietnam’, 10 October 1961, pp. 3–4, Available at , accessed 15 December 2010. 5 Ibid, p. 7. 6 Ibid, p. 8. 7 Record of Secretary of State’s staff meeting, 5 August 1965, FRUS, 1964–68, Vol. I, at , accessed 6 March 2010; Prados, John, ‘Essay: 40th anniversary of the Gulf of Tonkin incident’, National Security Archive, Washington, DC, at , accessed 24 February 2010. 8 Vickers, Rhiannon, ‘Harold Wilson, the British Labour Party, and the war in Vietnam’, Journal of Cold War Studies, Vol. 10, No. 2 (spring 2008), p. 47. 9 Ibid, p. 48. 10 Stewart to Wilson, 16 May 1965, PREM 13/214 TNA. 11 Wilson, Harold, The Labour Government 1964–1970: A Personal Record (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson and Michael Joseph, 1971), p. 80; record of telephone conversation (Prime Minister/President Johnson), 11 February 1965, PREM 13/692 TNA; FRUS, 1964–69, Vol. 2, at , accessed 3 March 2010. 12 Thompson to FO, 13 August 1964, FO 371/175501 TNA. 13 FO to UK Embassy (Washington), 28 February 1964, FO 371/175494 TNA, quoted in Lowe, Contending with Nationalism and Communism, p. 151. 14 Vickers, ‘Harold Wilson’, p. 48. 15 Ibid, p. 57.

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16 Rusk to US Embassy (London), 23 June 1965, Box 2278, POL 7, RG 59 NARA, quoted in ibid, p. 65. 17 Vickers, ‘Harold Wilson’, p. 66. 18 Ibid, p. 67. 19 Ibid, p. 68; Johnson, Lyndon Baines, The Vantage Point: Perspectives of the Presidency, 1963–1969 (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1972), p. 255; Wilson, The Labour Government, pp. 358–9. 20 Vickers, ‘Harold Wilson’, pp. 68–9. 21 Memorandum, Cable, ‘US proposal to invoke SEATO over Vietnam’, 28 April 1965, FO 371/180577 TNA. 22 Ibid. 23 Cable to Etherington-Smith, 13 May 1965, FO 371/180577 TNA. 24 UK Embassy (Saigon) to Foreign Office, 6 May 1965, ibid. 25 Etherington-Smith to Foreign Office, 29 April 1965, ibid. 26 FO to UK Embassy (Washington), 28 April 1965, ibid. 27 Draft final communiqué, 5 May 1965, ibid. 28 Rumbold to Cable, 31 May 1965, ibid. 29 Miles to FO, 25 June 1965, ibid. 30 Trench to Cable, 9 March 1966, FO 1095/17 TNA. 31 De la Mare to Stewart, 1 April 1966, memorandum ‘Vietnam and SEATO’, April 1966, ibid. 32 Ibid. 33 Rumbold to Murray, 30 March 1966, ibid. 34 Rumbold to Murray, 2 June 1966, ibid. 35 Ramsbotham to Murray, 7 April 1966, ibid. 36 Colman, Jonathan and Widén, J.J., ‘The Johnson administration and the recruitment of allies in Vietnam, 1964–1968’, History, Vol. 94, No. 4 (December 2009), p. 490. 37 Record of conversation (Prime Minister/SEATO Secretary-General), 3 June 1964, PREM 11/4763 TNA. 38 Rumbold to de la Mare, 19 April 1966, FO 1095/17 TNA. 39 Ibid. 40 Etherington-Smith to de la Mare, 28 April 1966, ibid. 41 Ibid. 42 De la Mare to Rumbold, 5 May 1966, ibid. 43 Stewart to de la Mare, 26 May 1966, ibid. 44 Ibid. 45 Rumbold to Etherington-Smith, 20 May 1966, ibid. 46 De la Mare to Rumbold, 5 May 1966, ibid. 47 Ibid.

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48 Ibid. 49 Stewart to De la Mare, 26 May 1966, ibid. 50 High Commission (Canberra) to CRO, 30 June 1966, ibid. 51 High Commission (Canberra) to CRO, 29 June 1966, ibid. 52 High Commission (Canberra) to CRO, 28 June 1966, ibid. 53 Ibid. 54 FO to UK Embassy (Bangkok), 15 August 1966, FO 371/186169 TNA. 55 Brown to FO, 11 January 1968, PREM 13/1999 TNA; Fain, American Ascendance and British Retreat, pp. 141–2. 56 Memorandum, President’s Special Counsel (McPherson) to Johnson, FRUS, 1964–68, Vol. V, at , accessed 27 March 2010. 57 Colman and Widén, ‘The Johnson administration’, pp. 491–2. 58 Ibid. 59 Ibid, p. 493. 60 Ibid, pp. 484, 498. 61 Ibid, p. 489. 62 Wilkinson to Allen, 10 May 1968, FCO 49/32 TNA. 63 ‘Prospects in the Paris talks’, 11 May 1968, ibid. 64 Planning Committee, PC (68)6, ‘United States policy and British interests in South-East Asia after Vietnam’, 28 June 1968, ibid. 65 Ibid. 66 Ibid. 67 Ibid. 68 Ibid. 69 Ibid. 70 Ibid. 71 Ibid. 72 Ibid. 73 Ibid. 74 Memorandum, President’s Assistant for National Security Affairs (Kissinger) to Nixon, 26 August 1969, FRUS, 1969–76, Vol. XX, at , accessed 18 May 2010. 75 Editorial note on Subcommittee hearing, 10–14 November 1969, FRUS, 1969–76, Vol. XX, at , accessed 18 May 2010. 76 Memorandum of conversation (Kissinger, Thanat et al) 25 February 1970, FRUS, 1969–76, Vol. XX, at , accessed 18 May 2010.

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77 Summary paper, 5 August 1970, FRUS, 1969–76, Vol. XX, at , accessed 18 May 2010. 78 Report on the situation in the Far East’, 31 March 1970, FCO 15/1340 TNA. 79 Westlake to Aiers, ‘The Australian military involvement in Vietnam’, 17 November 1970, FCO 24/692 TNA. 80 Ibid. 81 Everard to Home, ‘North Vietnam: annual review for 1972’, 18 January 1973, FCO 15/1824 TNA. 82 Ibid. 83 Ibid. 84 Everard to Squire, 2 November 1973, FCO 15/1831 TNA. 85 Everard to FCO, ‘Soviet and Chinese aid’, 19 January 1973, ibid. 86 Richards to Douglas-Home, ‘South Vietnam: annual review for 1972’, 3 January 1973, FCO 15/1820 TNA. 87 Ibid. 88 Squire to Morris, 24 January 1973, ibid. 89 Richards to Douglas-Home, ‘South Vietnam: annual review for 1972’. 90 Cromer to FCO, 18 April 1972, PREM 15/1281 TNA. 91 Main parts of report by Danish ambassador in Beijing on visit to Hanoi, March 1972, ibid. 92 Nixon to Heath, 8 May 1972, ibid. 93 Heath to Nixon, undated, ibid. 94 Record of meeting, Prime Minister/Ohira, 18 September 1972, ibid. 95 Chiefs of Staff Committee, DP 30/70 (final), ‘Declaration of forces to SEATO; report by Defence Policy Staff’, 7 September 1970, FCO 46/637 TNA 96 Minutes of Chiefs of Staff meeting, 16 September 1970, ibid. 97 Chiefs of Staff Committee, DP 30/70 (final), ‘Declaration of forces to SEATO’. 98 Ibid. 99 Ibid. 100 Tesh to Crawford, 10 November 1970, ibid. 101 Gordon to Wilford, ‘Force declaration to SEATO’, 20 November 1970, ibid. 102 Chiefs of Staff Committee, DP 30/70 (final), ‘Declaration of forces to SEATO’. 103 Ibid. 104 Draft minute, Secretary of State for Defence to Prime Minister, un-

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dated, ibid. 105 Squire to Watts, 23 November 1970, FCO 15/1322 TNA. 106 Ibid. Chapter 6. The Shah and CENTO 1

Memorandum, Acting Assistant Secretary of State (Jernegan) to Deputy Under-Secretary of State (Henderson), 7 January 1955, FRUS, 1955–57, Vol. XII, pp. 677–80. 2 Memorandum, Director, Policy Planning Staff (Bowie) to Under-Secretary of State (Hoover), 11 January 1955, ibid, p. 683. 3 Memorandum of discussion, National Security Council (Radford, Humphrey, Cutler et al), 13 January 1955, ibid, pp. 686–7. 4 Memorandum, Director of Office of Greek, Turkish and Iranian Affairs (Baxter) to Assistant Secretary of State (Allen), 4 February 1955, ibid, p. 703. 5 Ibid, p. 733. 6 Secretary of State (Dulles) to Secretary of Defense (Wilson), 27 June 1955, ibid, p. 745. 7 Director of CIA (Dulles) to Under-Secretary of State (Hoover), 1 July 1955, ibid, p. 747. 8 Memorandum, Assistant Secretary of State (Allen) to Deputy UnderSecretary of State (Murphy), 5 July 1955, ibid, p. 752. 9 US Embassy in Iran to Department of State, 1 September 1955, ibid, p. 763. 10 US Embassy in Iran to Department of State, 3 September 1955, ibid, p. 765. 11 Memorandum of discussion (Hoover, Anderson et al), 8 September 1955, ibid, p. 769. 12 Department of State to US Embassy in Iran, 17 September 1955, ibid, p. 774. 13 Memorandum, C.A.E. Shuckburgh, 10 May 1955, FO 371/115511 TNA. 14 Ibid. 15 Kimber to James, 11 May 1955, ibid. 16 Editorial note, FRUS, 1955–57, Vol. XII, p. 789. 17 Memorandum, Director of International Cooperation Administration (Hollister) to Under-Secretary of State (Hoover), 23 January 1956, ibid, p. 794. 18 Note 2, ibid, p. 797.

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19 Department of State to US Embassy in Iran, 8 February 1956, ibid, p. 801. 20 Department of State to US Embassy in Iran, 14 February 1956, ibid, p. 806. 21 Memorandum, Assistant Secretary of State (Allen) to Under-Secretary of State (Hoover), ibid, p. 825. 22 ‘Report of the Interdepartmental Committee on certain US aid programmes’, 3 July 1956, ibid, pp. 829–31. 23 Memorandum from JCS to Secretary of Defense (Wilson), 30 November 1956, ibid, p. 858. 24 British Embassy (Tehran) to FO, 6 November 1956, FO 371/121789 TNA. 25 FO to British Embassy (Tehran), 6 November 1956, ibid. 26 Memorandum of discussion at NSC (Eisenhower, Radford et al), 7 February 1957, FRUS, 1955–57, Vol. XII, p. 893. 27 US Embassy in Iran to Department of State, ‘The Shah of Iran, 1957 – A Revised Study’, 11 March 1957, ibid, pp. 914–18. 28 Memorandum, Assistant Secretary of State (Rountree) to Secretary of State, 12 October 1957, ibid, p. 950. 29 Ibid. 30 US Embassy in Iran to Department of State, 15 December 1957, ibid, p. 960. 31 Staff summary supplement prepared in Department of State, 17 December 1957, ibid; US Embassy in Iran to Department of State, 18 December 1957, ibid, pp. 961–3. 32 US Embassy in Iran to Department of State, 7 November 1957, ibid, p. 952. 33 Memorandum of conversation Eisenhower/Secretary of State (Dulles), 22 January 1958, FRUS, 1958–60, Vol. XII, p. 531. 34 Secretary of State (Dulles) to Eisenhower, 25 January 1958, ibid, p. 533. 35 Memorandum of conversation (Shah/Lodge), 2 February 1958, ibid, p. 535. 36 US Embassy in Iran to Department of State, 29 May 1958, ibid, pp. 550–1. 37 Ibid. 38 Memorandum from JCS to Secretary of Defence (McElroy), 9 June 1958, ibid, p. 555. 39 Ibid, p. 556. 40 Ibid, p. 557. 41 Eisenhower to Shah, 19 July 1958, ibid, pp. 575–6. 42 Memorandum, Special Assistant for Mutual Security Coordination

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(Barnes) to Deputy Under-Secretary of State (Dillon), 24 July 1958, ibid, pp. 579–81 43 NSC Report 5821/1, 15 November 1958, ibid, p. 610. 44 British Embassy (Tehran) to FO, 26 July 1958, FO 371/133019 TNA. 45 Memorandum, Assistant Secretary of State (Rountree) to Secretary of State (Dulles), 9 September 1958, FRUS, 1958–60, Vol. XII, p. 589. 46 Memorandum of discussion, NSC (Herter, Twining et al), 18 September 1958, ibid, p. 591. 47 Editorial note on 367th meeting, NSC, 15 August 1958, ibid, p. 585. 48 Memorandum, Assistant Secretary of State (Rountree) to Secretary of State (Dulles), 9 September 1958, ibid, p. 590. 49 Memorandum of discussion, NSC (Eisenhower, Gray, Taylor et al), 13 November 1958, ibid, pp. 602–3. 50 National Security Council Report 5821/1, 15 November 1958, p. 605; memorandum, Assistant Secretary of State (Rountree), undated, ibid, p. 619. 51 Ibid, p. 609. 52 Eisenhower to Shah, 30 January 1959, ibid, pp. 627–8. 53 US Embassy in Iran to Department of State, 30 January 1959, ibid, p. 630. 54 Editorial note on 369th meeting, NSC, 12 February 1959, ibid, p. 638. 55 Memorandum, Acting Secretary of State (Herter) to Eisenhower, 23 February 1959, ibid, p. 641. 56 ‘Iran’s Relations with the USSR’, November 1980, FO 973/123 TNA. 57 Record of meeting at Chequers, 3.30 pm, 10 May 1959, PREM 11/2734 TNA. 58 Record of meeting at Chequers, 11.45 am, 10 May 1959, ibid. 59 Note, Prime Minister, on his conversation with Shah, 3.15 pm, 10 May 1950, ibid. 60 Ibid. 61 Memorandum of conversation (Eisenhower/Shah), 14 December 1959, FRUS, 1958–60, Vol. XII, p.659. 62 Assistant Secretary of Defense (Irwin) to Under-Secretary of State (Merchant), 20 February 1960, ibid, pp. 666–7. 63 Ibid. 64 Johns, Andrew L., ‘The Johnson administration, the Shah of Iran and the changing pattern of US-Iranian relations, 1965–1967’, Journal of Cold War Studies, Vol. 9, No. 2 (spring 2007), p. 67.

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65 Ibid. 66 Coughlin, Con, Khomeini’s Ghost: The Definitive Account of Ayatollah Khomeini’s Islamic Revolution and Its Enduring Legacy (London: Macmillan, 2009), p. 98. 67 Special National Intelligence Estimate 11-2-61, ‘The Soviet Threat to Iran and the CENTO area’, 5 October 1961, p. 2, available at , accessed 10 December 2010. 68 Ibid, p. 3. 69 Ibid, p. 4. 70 Deputy Assistant Secretary of Defense (Sloan) to Commander-inChief, US Strike Command (Adams), 24 March 1964, FRUS, 1964– 68, Vol. XXII, available at , accessed 7 May 2010. 71 National Intelligence Estimate 34/64, 20 May 1964, ibid, available at , accessed 7 May 2010. 72 US Embassy in Iran to Department of State, 28 May 1964, ibid. 73 Secretary of State for Defence, ‘Defence Expenditure in Cyprus’, 1 May 1967, DEFE 13/539 TNA; Memorandum, Robert W. Komer, NSC staff, to Johnson, 4 June 1964, FRUS, Vol. XXII, available at , accessed 7 May 2010. 74 Ibid. 75 Memorandum, Robert W. Komer, NSC staff, to President’s Special Assistant for National Security (Bundy), 27 June 1964, ibid, available at , accessed 7 May 2010. 76 Johns, ‘The Johnson administration’, p. 79. 77 US Embassy in Iran to Department of State, 27 April 1965, FRUS, 1964–68, Vol. XXII, available at , accessed 7 May 2010. 78 Department of State to US Embassy in Iran, 26 February 1965, ibid. 79 US Embassy in Iran to Department of State, 31 August 1965, ibid, available at , accessed 7 May 2010. 80 US Embassy in Iran to Department of State, 13 September 1965, ibid, available at , accessed 7 May 2010. 81 US Embassy in Iran to Department of State, 28 November 1965, ibid,

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available at , accessed 7 May 2010. 82 Special DIA Intelligence Supplement, 28 January 1966, ibid. 83 Memorandum, Assistant Administrator (Macomber) to Deputy Assistant Secretary of State (Kitchen), 2 February 1966, ibid. 84 US Embassy in Iran to Department of State, 14 March 1966, ibid. 85 US Embassy in Iran to Department of State, 18 April 1966, ibid, available at , accessed 7 May 2010. 86 Johnson to Shah, 20 July 1966, ibid, available at , accessed 9 May 2010. 87 Johns, ‘The Johnson administration’, p. 86. 88 Intelligence Memorandum No. 1117/67, 5 June 1967, ibid, available at , accessed 9 May 2010. 89 US Embassy in Iran to Department of State, 29 April 1967, ibid, available at , accessed 9 May 2010. 90 Memorandum, President’s Special Assistant (Rostow) to Johnson, 22 August 1967, ibid, available at , accessed 9 May 2010. 91 Memorandum, Chief of the Near East and South Asia Division, Plans Directorate (Critchfield) to Director (Helms), 16 November 1967, ibid, available at , accessed 9 May 2010. 92 Ibid. 93 Memorandum, JCS to Assistant Secretary of Defense (Warnke), 25 June 1968, ibid, available at , accessed 9 May 2010. 94 Johnson to Shah, 26 July 1968, ibid, available at , accessed 9 May 2010. 95 Memorandum, D.J. Makinson, ’The Working of CENTO: Political Guidance to the Military Committee’, 22 March 1969, FCO 17/801 TNA. 96 Ibid. 97 Intelligence Note 743, 17 October 1969, FRUS, 1969–76, Vol. E-4, available at , accessed 14 May 2010. 98 Memorandum of conversation (Shah, Rogers, Sisco et al), 22 October

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1969, ibid, available at , accessed 14 May 2010. 99 Memorandum, Kissinger to President, 13 May 1970, ibid, available at , accessed 14 May 2010. 100 Memorandum, Kissinger to President, 16 April 1970, ibid, available at , accessed 14 May 2010. 101 Memorandum of conversation (Whelles, Richardson et al), 14 April 1970, ibid, available at , accessed 14 May 2010. 102 Memorandum, CIA Director (Helms) to National Security Adviser (Kissinger), 16 April 1970, ibid, available at , accessed 14 May 2010. 103 Memorandum, Saunders, NSC Staff, to President’s Assistant for National Security Affairs (Kissinger), 2 September 1970, ibid, available at , accessed 14 May 2010. 104 Special National Intelligence Estimate 34-70, 3 September 1970, ibid, available at , accessed 14 May 2010. 105 Ibid. 106 Memorandum, Assistant Secretary of Defense (Nutter) to Secretary of Defense (Laird), 12 October 1970, ibid, available at , accessed 14 May 2010. 107 Ibid. 108 Secretary of Defense (Laird) to Secretary of State (Rogers), 27 October 1970, ibid, available at , accessed 14 May 2010. 109 Memorandum, Saunders, NSC Staff, to President’s Assistant for National Security Affairs (Kissinger), 4 November 1970, ibid, available at , accessed 14 May 2010. 110 National Security Memorandum 92, 7 November 1970, ibid, available at , accessed 14 May 2010. 111 Ibid. 112 US Embassy in Iran (Macarthur) to Deputy Under-Secretary (Macomber), 1 December 1970, ibid, available at , accessed 14 May 2010. 113 Fain, American Ascendance and British Retreat, p. 192. 114 Memorandum, Kissinger to Nixon, 18 May 1972, FRUS, 1969–76, Vol. E-4, available at , accessed 14 May 2010. 115 US Embassy in Iran to Department of State, 4 May 1972, ibid, available at , accessed 14 May 2010. 116 Parsi, Trita, Treacherous Alliance: The Secret Dealings of Israel, Iran and the US (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2008), p. 32. 117 Memorandum, Director of Central Intelligence (Helms) to President’s Assistant for National Security Affairs (Kissinger), 4 May 1972, FRUS, 1969–76, Vol. E-4, available at , accessed 14 May 2010; Intelligence Report; ‘Centers of Power in Iran’, May 1972, ibid, available at , accessed 14 May 2010. 118 Ibid. 119 Intelligence Memorandum ER IM 72-79, May 1972, ibid, available at , accessed 14 May 2010. 120 Memorandum, Director of CIA (Helms) to President’s Assistant for National Security Affairs (Kissinger), 8 May 1972, ibid, available at , accessed 14 May 2010. 121 Parsi, Treacherous Alliance, p. 58. 122 Intelligence Memorandum ER IM 72-79. 123 Research study prepared in the Bureau of Intelligence and Research, 28 January 1972, ibid, available at , accessed 14 May 2010. 124 US Embassy in Tehran to Department of State, 25 February 1972, ibid, at , accessed 14 May 2010. 125 Parsi, Treacherous Alliance, p. 34. 126 Memorandum, Saunders, NSC Staff, to President’s Assistant for National Security Affairs (Kissinger), 12 June 1972, available at , accessed 14 May 2010. 127 Memorandum of conversation (Nixon, Kissinger, Shah), 31 May

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1972, ibid, available at , accessed 14 May 2010. 128 ‘Shah of Iran critising Britain’, available at , accessed 15 May 2010. 129 ‘Shah of Iran on Persian Gulf, and American Jewish lobby’, available at , accessed 15 May 2010. 130 Parsi, Treacherous Alliance, p. 47. 131 Ramsbotham to Wright, 25 October 1973, FCO 8/2077 TNA. 132 ‘Some points made by the Shah in private meeting with the Queen on 23 October 1973 at Tehran’, ibid. 133 Ibid. 134 ‘Shah of Iran and corruption in the country’, available at , accessed 15 May 2010. 135 Parsons, Anthony, The Pride and the Fall: Iran 1974–1979 (London: Cape, 1984), p. 20. 136 Sullivan, William H. Mission to Iran (New York: Norton, 1981), p. 84. 137 Parsi, Treacherous Alliance, p. 54. 138 Ibid, p. 57. 139 Ibid, p. 59. 140 Ibid, p. 66. 141 Coughlin, Khomeini’s Ghost, p. 139. 142 Parsi, Treacherous Alliance, p. 74. Chapter 7. Demise of the Alliances 1

US Embassy in the Philippines to Department of State, 5 March 1972, FRUS, 1969–76, Vol. XX, available at , accessed 20 May 2010. 2 SEATO Intelligence Assessment Committee, ‘The Nature and Extent of the Communist Subversive and Insurgent Threat to the Treaty Area’, 11 July 1972, CAB 190/30 TNA. 3 Ibid. 4 Ibid. 5 SEATO Intelligence Assessment Committee, ‘The Nature and Extent of the Communist subversive and Insurgent threat to the Treaty Area’, Philippines, 12 July 1972, ibid. 6 SEATO Intelligence Committee, 15th Meeting, Bangkok, November 1972, Annex A (DI 2/1029), CAB 190/30 TNA. 7 Ibid.

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8 Ibid. 9 Ibid. 10 Note, Chairman of Council Representatives, 7 August 1975, FCO 15/2114 TNA. 11 Cole to Callaghan, ‘The Phasing-out of SEATO’, 7 November 1975, FCO 15/2117 TNA. 12 Cole to FCO, 5 September 1975, FCO 15/2114 TNA. 13 Cole to Callaghan, ‘The Phasing-out of SEATO’. 14 Squire to Male, ‘Why bury SEATO?’, 12 September 1975, FCO 15/2115 TNA. 15 Ibid. 16 Ramsbotham to FCO, 19 September 1975, ibid. 17 Cole to Callaghan, ‘The Phasing-out of SEATO’. 18 Ibid. 19 Hazelhurst, Peter, ‘SEATO fades into Cold War history without firing a shot’, The Times, 30 June 1977. 20 Goulden to Goodall (‘Secret – UK Eyes Alpha’), 16 November 1972, FCO 8/1828 TNA. 21 Phillips to Wright, ‘United Kingdom policy on CENTO’, 15 March 1974, FCO 37/1511 TNA. 22 Extract from record of conversation (Callaghan/Rush), State Department, 21 May 1974, ibid. 23 Record of conversation (Ennals, Assar et al), 27 March 1974, ibid. 24 ‘Turkey’s attitude to NATO and CENTO’, 11 September 1974, FCO 9/2216 TNA. 25 Call by Secretary-General of CENTO, Nassir Assar, on Lord Goronwy-Roberts, 14 August 1974, FCO 37/ 1511 TNA. 26 CENTO ministerial meeting, ‘Review of the International Situation’, 18–20 April 1978, Brief No. 4, p. 17, FCO 37/2074 TNA. 27 ‘Political Guidance for Military Planning’, 14 March 1974, FCO 37/1511 TNA. 28 Record of restricted meeting, CENTO ministerial council (Rush, Callaghan et al), 22 May 1974, ibid. 29 Ibid. 30 ‘Background: Agenda Item X: Adoption of Resolutions, Political Guidance for Military Planning’, Brief No. 6, undated, p. 4, FCO 37/1823 TNA. 31 ‘Personality notes, CENTO ministerial meeting’, Tehran, 13–15 May 1977, Brief No.7, ibid. 32 Record of meeting with Frank Judd, FCO, 10.15 am, 21 March 1977,

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p. 3, FCO 37/1824 TNA. 33 Record of meeting, with M.S. Weir, Assistant Under-Secretary of State, FCO, 10.55 am, 21 March 1977, ibid. 34 Ibid. 35 Record of meeting, John Tomlinson MP, Parliamentary Under-Secretary of State, ODM, 12.00 noon, 21 March 1977, ibid. 36 Record of meeting, Rt. Hon. David Owen MP, Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs, 3.10 pm, 21 March 1977, ibid. 37 Ibid. 38 Ibid. 39 Record of meeting, Rt. Hon. Fred Mulley MP, Secretary of Defence, 4.30 pm, 21 March 1977, ibid. 40 Record of meeting, Admiral of the Fleet Sir Edward Ashmore, 4.00 pm, 21 March 1977, pp. 1–2, ibid; CENTO ministerial meeting, Tehran, 13–15 May 1977, ‘Background: Pakistan Bilateral Relations’, Brief No. 9, FCO 37/1823 TNA; CENTO ministerial meeting, Tehran 13– 15 May 1977, Supplementary Brief: ‘Pakistan’, ibid. 41 CENTO Ministerial meeting, London 19–20 April 1978, ‘Background, Pakistan bilateral’, FCO 37/2074 TNA. 42 CENTO ministerial meeting, Tehran 13–15 May 1977, Brief No. 5d, FCO 37/1823 TNA. 43 Gilett to Charlesworth, ‘Notes on paragraphs 2 and 9’, 27 January 1977, FCO 9/2677 TNA. 44 ‘Soviet attitude to CENTO’, Brief No. 4, ibid. 45 Note of discussion during luncheon given by Hon. Warren Christopher, Deputy Secretary, State Department, 25 March 1977, FCO 37/1824 TNA. 46 CENTO Military Committee minutes, 5 April 1978, p. 5, DEFE 69/640 TNA. 47 Ibid, p. 6. 48 Ibid, p. 8. 49 Ibid, p. 9. 50 Ibid, p. 13. 51 CENTO press conference, 20 April 1978, FCO 37/2074 TNA. 52 CENTO, 25th Meeting of Council of Ministers, London, 18–20 April 1978, brief for the UK delegation, ibid. 53 CENTO Ministerial meeting, ‘Review of the International Situation’, 18–20 April 1978, Brief No. 4, ibid. 54 Ibid, p. 6. 55 Ibid.

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56 Simpson-Orlebar to Weir, 24 August 1977, FCO 9/2677 TNA. 57 CENTO ministerial meeting, ‘Cyprus and US/Turkish Relations’, 18­ –20 April 1978, Brief No. 9, FCO 37/2074 TNA. 58 Sowrey to Marshal of the RAF Sir Neil Cameron, Chief of Defence Staff, 31 August 1978, DEFE 25/351 TNA. 59 Sowrey to Cameron, ‘CENTO Half-year Report’, 2 January 1979, ibid. 60 Sowrey to Cameron, 31 August 1978, ibid. 61 Freedman, Lawrence, A Choice of Enemies: America Confronts the Middle East (London: Phoenix, 2009), p. 18. 62 CENTO Permanent Military Deputies Group minutes, 11 October 1978, p. 6, DEFE 69/640 TNA. 63 Ibid, p. 7. 64 Sowrey to Cameron, ‘Review of 1978 in CENTO to 31 December 1978’, 2 January 1979, DEFE 25/351 TNA. 65 Ibid. 66 ‘The crescent of crisis’, Time magazine, 15 January 1979. 67 Talbot, Strobe, ‘CENTO: a tattered alliance’, Time magazine, 18 September 1978. 68 ‘Iran’s Relations with the USSR’, November 1980, FO 973/123 TNA. 69 UK Embassy (Washington) to FCO, 18 January 1979, DEFE 13/1280 TNA. 70 Coughlin, Khomeini’s Ghost, p. 25. 71 ‘Iran’s Relations with the USSR’. 72 Ibid. 73 Message from General Kenan Evren, Commander-in-Chief, Turkish Armed Forces, DEFE 69/640 TNA. 74 Statement by Lieutenant-General S. Ugur, Permanent Military Deputy, Turkey, ibid. 75 Statement by Lieutenant-General Jehanzeb Arbab, Permanent Military Deputy, Pakistan, Chairman of the Permanent Military Deputies Group, ibid. 76 Statement by Lieutenant General T.H. Tackaberry, Permanent Military Deputy, USA, ibid. 77 Statement by Air Marshal Sir Frederick Sowrey, Permanent Military Deputy, UK, ibid.

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Index

Abrams, Creighton, 121 Acheson, Dean, 15, 17 Aden, 33, 54, 73, 143 Afghanistan, 2-3, 19, 29, 31, 42, 46-8, 51-2, 60, 145-7, 151, 171,173-4, 176, 179, 183, 189 Agence France Presse, 114 Ahmed, Aziz, 46 Allen, Denis, 54, 59, 75 Algiers Accord, 161 Al-Suwaidi, Tawfiq, 30 Amjad, Ali, 44 ANZUS (Australia, New Zealand, United States alliance), 15, 17-20, 114, 170 Arbab, Jehanzeb, 184 Assar, Nasir, 171-2 ASEAN (Association of Southeast Asian States), 119, 166 Ashmore, Edward, 176 ASIO (Australian Security Intelligence Organisation), 86 Ayub Khan, 45-7, 49, 55, 57, 61,

63-4, 151, 153 Australia, 3, 4, 12, 15, 17-20, 26, 86, 89, 96, 100, 103, 107-8, 114, 119, 123-4, 128, 132, 160, 169, 187 Ba’athism, 54, 162 Baghdad Pact, 3, 11, 31-6, 40, 42-3, 45, 53, 135, 137-146, 183 Bahrain, 142, 157 Ball, Alfred, 83 Ball, George, 112-3 Bandung conference, 142 Bangladesh, 19, 63, 66-8, 158-9, 173 Baker, Geoffrey, 131 Bayülken, Umit Haluk, 174 BBC (British Broadcasting Corporation), 161 Begin, Menachem, 179 Bhutto, Zulfikar Ali, 56-7, 67-8, 177 Black Watch, 109 Brandon, Henry, 122 Brezhnev, Leonid, 61, 130, 149,

234

Failed Alliances of the Cold War

166, 182-3 BRIAM (British Advisory Mission), 109-10, 118 Britain, 2-21, 24-8, 31, 33-4, 37, 39, 46, 50, 54-57, 60, 62, 65, 67, 69-83, 85-6, 88-90, 94-5, 98-102, 104, 106-7, 109-10, 112-14, 117-121, 123-25, 129, 131-35, 138-9, 152, 159-60, 174, 176-7, 181-3, 187-9 Brown, George, 111, 120-1 Brunei, 123 Bulganin, Nikolai, 42 Bundy, McGeorge, 108 Burma, 19-20, 22, 50, 98, 125 Cabinet, 8, 44, 49, 60, 72, 94, 100, 110-11 Cable, James, 23, 69, 110, 113 Caccia, Harold, 14 Callaghan, James, 80, 82, 171, 174, 177 Cambodia, 9-10, 12, 22-4, 85-6, 95, 98, 104-5, 110, 113, 125, 127, 143, 163, 167-9, 188 Cameron, Neil, 83 Canada, 11, 43, 98 Canberra bomber squadrons, 523,71 Canberra, 4,114,116 Carrington, Lord Peter, 131-4 Carter, Jimmy, 162, 176, 181-2, 187 Cassilly, Thomas, 141 CENTO (Central Treaty

Organisation), 2-5, 9, 11-12, 15, 31-40, 46-99, 103, 107-8, 135-7, 139, 141, 143, 145, 147-63, 165, 171-84, 187-9 Chalmers, C.B., 93 Chapin, Selden, 137-9, 142-3 Chiang Kai-shek, 13 China, 3-4, 9-10, 13-15, 18-23, 32-3, 37, 39, 44-5, 48-50, 52, 57-63, 65-7, 87, 93-5, 98-99, 108, 110, 124, 127, 129-30, 134, 151-2, 158, 161, 165-7, 171, 173, 177, 187-9 Chundrigar, Ibrahim, 43 Churchill, Winston, 2, 13, 17-8 CIA (Central Intelligence Agency), 7, 62, 65, 86, 108, 137, 145, 148, 153, 155-6, 159 Cooper, Chester, 112, 115, 122 Cole, D.L., 168-9 Colombo Plan, 19 Commonwealth, 10 13, 18, 25, 39, 55, 67, 73, 87-9, 92, 100, 102-3, 105, 111-13, 131, 134, 154, 169 Counter-insurgency, 2-3, 24, 8990, 94, 98, 101-102, 108,118, 121, 127, 131-4 CRO (Commonwealth Relations Office), 55 Cromer, Lord, 66 Cultural Revolution, 14, 60, 166 Cyprus, 33-4, 37, 52-5, 59, 66, 69, 71, 83, 108, 172, 179 Czechoslovakia, 8

Index

Daud, Mohammed, 179 Dayan, Moshe, 179 de Gaulle, Charles, 117 Delos pact, 1 de la Mare, 91-2, 115, 118-19 Dhahran airbase, 34 DIA (Defense Intelligence Agency), 149, 151 Diego Garcia, 81, 173 Dien Bien Phu, 13, 121 Dulles, Allen, 137,145-6 Dulles, John Foster, 8, 10, 13-4, 19-20, 22, 27, 30-1, 34, 45, 107, 118, 131, 137-140, 142, 145-6, 175 Eçevit, Bülent, 179 Eden, Anthony, 8, 10-11, 15, 17, 20, 110, 120, 138, 188 Egypt, 26-8, 31, 36, 42, 52, 79, 139, 141, 149, 151-2, 154, 158, 173, 179 Eisenhower, Dwight, 7-8, 12-14, 22, 30, 32-3, 45-7, 100, 131, 135-6, 139-142, 144-5, 147, 187 Elizabeth II, Queen, 160 En-lai, Chou 57, 128 Etherington-Smith, Gordon, 114, 118 Everard, T.S., 128-9 Evren, Kenan, 184

235

Faisal II, King, 33 Falklands war, 189 Farah, Empress, 160 FCO (Foreign and Commonwealth Office), 61 Felt, Harry, 14, 96 Fisher, J.M., 98 Ford, Gerald, 162 France, 3, 11-12, 17, 26, 28, 38, 70, 98-9, 103, 107, 109, 113, 117, 141, 156, 165, 168, 171, 175, 177, 187 Freedman, Lawrence, 180 Freeman, Matthews, 26,58 Gandhi, Indira, 65-6 Geneva conference, 9-11, 15, 20, 23, 25, 83, 87, 89, 95, 98-9, 102, 105-6, 108-110, 112, 114, 116, 120 Germany, 2, 46, 66, 73, 78, 122-23 Gordon-Walker, Patrick, 109 Gore, David Ormsby, 95 Gibraltar, 33-4, 76, 79 Gleeck, Lew, 91-2 Greece, 1, 11, 27, 80, 154, 172, 182 Green, Marshall, 165-6 Gulf of Tonkin, 10, 107, 109 Heath, Edward, 66-7, 130-33 Helms, Richard, 65, 155, 158 Hildreth, Horace, 43 HMS Victorious, 76 HMS Hermes, 76

236

Failed Alliances of the Cold War

Ho Chi Minh, 10, 99-100, 111-12, 120-21 Holt, Harold, 120 Holyoake, Keith, 114 Home-Douglas, Alec, 51-2, 66-68, 117, 132 Hong Kong, 13-4, 79, 111, 123 Hopson, Donald, 106 Hubert, Humphrey, 152 Hussein, Saddam, 183 India, 4, 7, 10, 15, 19-20, 22, 24, 28, 30-31, 35, 37, 39-40, 4251, 53, 55-61, 63-68, 78, 87, 98, 107, 113, 142, 151-2,154, 158-9, 166, 171-5, 177, 187 Indochina, 9, 13, 15, 18, 20-21, 25, 65, 85, 94, 96, 99, 105-8, 110, 119-20, 123-4, 169 Indonesia, 10, 19-20, 22, 61, 86, 104-5, 110, 119, 125 Indo-Pakistani war, 4, 15, 24, 39, 44-5, 49-50, 55, 58, 69, 135, 151, 159, 163, 174, 176 Insurgency, 2-4, 9, 24-5, 71, 85, 89-90, 93-4, 98, 101-2, 107, 162, 167 Iran, 3-5, 19, 28-37, 42, 46-7, 5355, 58-60, 63, 72-3, 75, 7781, 135-141, 143-63, 171-2, 175, 177, 179-84, 187, 189 Iraq, 3, 26-7, 30-1, 33-4, 37, 46, 52, 54, 138-40, 144-7, 149, 152-4, 156, 158, 160-63,

174, 183 Irwin, John N. II, 147-8 Islamic revolution, 163, 180, 183, 189 Israel, 7, 26-8, 31, 36, 60, 79, 140, 151, 158,160-63, 175, 179 Japan, 13, 15-17, 19, 23, 66, 119, 122, 127, 130 JCS (Joint Chiefs of Staff, US), 17-19, 21, 29-30, 35, 42, 50, 100, 136, 143-45, 147, 153-4 JIC (Joint Intelligence Committee), 110 ,113 Johnson, Alexis, 65, 91 Johnson, Lyndon, 56, 58, 98, 107, 109-10, 112-13, 121, 135, 149-50, 152-3 Jordan, 33, 63, 139, 153, 158 Kashmir, 42-4, 49, 55-7, 59, 120 Kennedy, John, 48-9, 51, 59 ,63-4, 100-1, 108, 148-9 Kenya, 34, 108 Khe Sanh, 121 Khomeini, Ayatollah Ruhollah, 183, 189 Khrushchev, Nikita, 42, 46, 148, 189 Kirk, Norman, 169 Kissinger, Henry, 63-8, 81, 125-6,130, 154-5, 157-160, 162, 171, 173, 189 Kong, Le, 95, 99, 105, 106 Kosygin, Alexei, 112

Index

Korea, 13, 15, 19, 22, 28-9, 121-22, 127 Korean war, 15,105,114 Kuwait, 72-3,77,144,154 Labour party, 55, 109, 111-13, 131, 169-70 Laird, Melvyn, 157 Langley, James, 43-4 Laos, 9-10, 12, 19, 23-25, 85-96, 98-102, 105-107, 110, 125, 131, 163, 167, 169 Le Cheminant, Peter, 83 Le May, Curtis, 22 Lemnitzer, Lyman, 100 Libya, 72 Lightning fighter/bombers, 59, 102 Lloyd, Selwyn, 24, 43, 95 Loewen, Charles, 20 MacArthur, Douglas, 9, 86, 91, 157 Macmillan, Harold, 24, 32, 59, 85, 107-8, 146-7 Makarios, President/Archbishop, 73, 76-7 Makinson, D.J., 153-4 Malaya, 9, 19, 21, 25, 86,101, 108-9 Maldives, 19, 34 Malta, 33-4, 76-7, 79, 82-3 Manila treaty, 12-4, 20, 22, 96, 99100, 114-15, 165-6, 168-70 Mao Tse-tung, 9, 63

237

Marcos, Ferdinand, 166, 169 Mayne, J.F., 80 McNamara, Robert, 100, 150 MEC (Middle East Command), 26 MEDO (Middle East Defence Organisation), 26-30 Menemencioglu, Turgut, 64 MI5, 86 MIDEASTFOR (Middle East Force, US), 157 Mig-21 fighter, 59 Miles, JEA., 115 Ministerial Council, 60,62,68,104,11114,116,171,173-4,179 Mirza, Ali Iskander, 40, 42-3, 45 MoD (Ministry of Defence, UK), 72-4, 78-80, 82, 85, 131, 150, 177, 179 Molotov, Vyacheslav, 15, 139 Mongolia, 19 Mossadeq, Mohammed, 159 Mountbatten, Lord Louis, 14 Mulley, Fred, 174, 176 Nash, Walter, 90-1 Nass, Charles, 162 Nasser, Gamal Abdel, 28, 33, 140-42, 144, 148, 150, 153, 156, 158 National Security Council, 112 NATO (North Atlantic Treaty Organisation), 1-4, 7, 11-12, 17-19, 28-30, 32, 34-5, 48, 524,59, 62, 66, 68, 71-73, 76-80,

238

Failed Alliances of the Cold War

82, 99, 117, 122,132, 138, 142, 149, 151, 154, 171-2, 174, 17679, 181-2, 189 Nehru, Jawaharlal, 30, 48-9, 59, 91 Nepal, 19 New Guinea, 19 ‘New Look’ policy, 7, 19, 25 New Zealand, 3-4, 12, 15, 17-20, 26, 86-91, 93, 96-7, 99-100, 105, 107-8, 114-15, 119-120, 123-4, 127, 132, 169-170, 187 Ngo Dinh Diem, 10, 12-13, 87, 108, 151 Nixon, Richard, 42-3, 62-7, 107-8, 127, 130-1, 154, 158-160, 180, 189 Nixon doctrine, 158, 160 Noon, Feroz Khan 44 Northern tier, 30, 136-8, 148 Nutter, Warren, 68, 156-7 Ohira, Masayoshi, 130 Oman, 79 OPEC (Organisation of Petroleum Exporting Countries), 160 Operation Nickel Grass, 79 Operation Ottershaw, 77 Operation Rolling Thunder, 109, 111 Operation Vantage, 72 Owen, David, 174-6, 178

88-9, 99, 102-3, 113, 135-37, 139-40, 145, 151-4, 158-9, 165, 168, 171-9, 181, 182-3, 187, 189 Pakistan Times, 55 Paris Peace Accords, 129, 131 Parsons, Anthony, 161 Pathet Lao, 95, 97, 99, 100, 105-6, 110, 168 Pentagon, 7, 19, 28, 35, 37, 41, 68, 86, 91,136-8, 140, 143-4, 147-9, 155-6, 182 Philippines, 3, 12, 15, 19-20, 61, 86, 88-9, 93, 96-7, 99, 102-4, 162, 116-7, 120-22, 124, 165-171, 187 Phoumi Nosavan, 95, 97, 99 Pol Pot, 168 Political Guidance, 36, 61-2, 85-6, 90-3, 96-7, 102, 154, 173, 178, 180-1 Portugal, 11,48 Poullada, Leon, 47 Powers, Garry, 44, 48 Pramoj, Kukrit, 169 Project Flower, 163 Project Taksin, 125 Pugh, L.H., 21 Pumphrey, J.L., 67 Qassim, Karim Abdul, 33

Pakistan, 3-4, 12-13, 15, 19, 24, 28-31, 33, 35-7, 39-50, 53-70, 72, 75, 80-1, 83, 86,

Radford, Arthur, 19, 21, 23, 136, 141 RAF (Royal Air Force), 33-4, 71-3,

Index

75-9, 82-3, 100-102 RAAF (Royal Australian Air Force), 103 Ramsbotham, Peter, 81, 117, 160 Rann of Kutch, 55-6 RCD (Regional Cooperation for Development), 55, 75, 153, 158 Reagan, Ronald, 189 Richards, Brooks, 129 Roberts, Goronwy, 172 Rogers, William, 64,157 Romulo, Carlos, 166 Rostow, Walt, 150,152-3 Rumbold, Arthur, 57, 115-17, 119 Roosevelt, Kermit, 159 Royal Engineers, 47, 86, 103, 120 Royal Navy, 34, 146 Rusk, Dean, 51-2, 56 ,99, 107112, 115-17, 119-121, 145, 148, 150 Russia, 2, 4, 7, 15, 29-34, 367,39,42, 45-7, 49, 52, 56, 58-62, 65, 72-4, 81, 98-9, 106,108, 112, 127-9, 134-5, 138, 144-9, 151-2, 154, 161, 163, 165-7, 173-5, 179, 181,183, 187-9 Sadat, Anwar, 158,173 SAS (Special Air Service), 111, 127 SBAs (Sovereign Base Areas), 72, 79-80 Saudi Arabia, 26, 34, 64, 154,

239

157-8, 179 Saunders, Harold, 156 Scott, Robert, 15,20 Schlesinger, James, 79,81 SEATO (Southeast Asia Treaty Organisation), 2-5, 9, 11-4, 19-25, 31-5, 37, 40, 42-5, 51-5, 56-60, 62-3, 65, 69-70, 85-105, 107-123, 125-9, 131-4, 165-7, 171, 187-9 Shah, the, 4, 34, 46, 51, 53, 60, 73-5, 78-80, 135-163, 179-80, 182-3, 189 Shatt-al-Arab waterway, 156, 161 Shell Company, 123 Singapore, 19, 21, 86-7, 103-4, 110, 125, 132, 170 SIS (Secret Intelligence Service), 86 Six Day War, 76, 153 Stewart, Michael, 119 Strategic Arms Limitation Treaty, 173 Souvanna, Prince, 95-97, 99, 105-6 Soviet-Iranian pact, 139 Soviet navy, 79, 81 Strait of Hormuz, 153 Stump Felix, 20 Suez crisis, 21, 28, 33, 43 Tackaberry, Thomas, H. 180-1,184 Taiwan, 13, 19, 127, 165-6 Taylor, Maxwell, 101, 145 Tesh, R.M., 69 Thailand, 3, 12, 19-20, 23-4, 61, 86, 90, 95, 98-103, 105, 107,

240

Failed Alliances of the Cold War

113, 116-7, 120-23, 125-127, 131-4, 165-70, 187-8 Thanat, Khoman, 99, 116, 125-6 Thomas H. Tackaberry, 180-1, 184 Thompson, Robert, 108, 110, 119 Time magazine, 182 Times, The, 122, 171 Tudeh party, 148 Turkey, 3, 11, 26, 29-31, 33-5, 50-1, 53-5, 58-60, 72-3, 75, 77, 80-1, 135-40, 42-5, 148, 151, 153-4, 158-9, 171-2, 175, 179, 181-2, 184, 187 Turkish General Staff, 159, 184

154-7, 159-160, 171-2, 176, 177, 179 USS Enterprise, 65 USS Maddox, 109

UAR (United Arab Republic), 154 UN (United Nations), 29, 48, 58, 65, 82, 97-8, 140, 158, 162, 172, 175-6 UNFICYP (United Nations Force In Cyprus), 76, 80 United Arab Emirates, 158, 173 USA (United States of America), 2, 5, 7-15, 17-23, 25-9,31, 3339, 45-6, 50, 52-7, 61, 64, 67, 69, 76-7, 87, 91-3, 95-8, 100, 102-5, 108-9, 111-14, 119122, 124-6, 129-31, 133,135, 139, 141, 151, 154-5, 157162, 173-6,182-3, 185, 188 USAF (Unites States Air Force), 76, 79 US arms, 35-6, 40, 43, 49, 57, 60, 136, 138, 144-6, 149-152,

Warner, F.A., 91-2, 96, 98 Watkinson, Harold, 35 Weir, M.S., 175 Westmorland, William, 102, 121 Wheeler, Earle, 154-5 White, B.O., 69 Whitlam, Gough, 169 Wilson, Harold, 4, 55-7, 73, 85, 107, 109-112, 120 Wright, Oliver, 107

V-bomber, 73-76 Vietcong, 99-100, 106, 108, 110, 115, 121, 127 Vietnam, 3-4, 9-10, 12-3, 15, 19,21-22, 24, 57-8, 85-8, 92, 94, 98-103, 106-120, 122-3, 125-131, 133-4, 152, 163, 165-7, 169, 187-9 Vulcan bomber, 76, 133

Yom Kippur War, 79, 81, 160, 171, 174 Zagros, 29, 136-7, 140-1, 143 Zia-ul-Haq, Mohammad, 177