bout de papier, Vol. 27, No. 2 (2013) — Spring 2013 // Printemps 2013, p. 27
The revolutionary guards, or “Pasdaran”, were everywhere. Loosely organized, mainly self-appointed, they were zealous defenders of revolutionary ideals. They were like a wild card in the law enforcement system, setting up road blocks at will, patrolling the airport and other public buildings alongside the usual security officials, and investigating citizens’ reports of crimes against the new public morality. They were detested and feared by many Iranians but enjoyed broad support among those seeking to cleanse the society of pre-revolutionary tendencies.
Our most serious brush with them came one day at the airport where John Sheardown and I had gone to meet the diplomatic courier. The embassy was still receiving the sealed red diplomatic bags from Ottawa on a regular basis, but there was increasing harassment from revolutionary guards who wanted to see what was in them. Normally the bag was small enough to be carried aboard the plane by the courier and transported on the seat beside him or in an overhead bin. But sometimes it would be bigger and would be stowed in a special cargo hold high up near the tail of the Air France 747 which the courier usually took. Our job was to drive out onto the tarmac in an embassy car the moment the plane came to a stop and keep an eye on the special cargo hold until the courier had time to disembark and join us at the rear of the plane. The handover would be made on the spot, usually an exchange of incoming and outgoing bags; then we would wait in the car near the aircraft until it began to taxi out for takeoff to ensure that no one reopened the cargo door after the courier was back on board.
Although the task could usually be accomplished by one Canadian officer and an embassy driver, on this particular day the ambassador had asked John and I both to go since some particularly sensitive material was expected. Things went according to routine until we were putting the red bag, a bulky one, into the trunk of the embassy car. One of the revolutionary guards, wearing the customary submachine gun, had been attracted by our presence under the plane and demanded that we open the bag for his inspection. We refused in courteous terms (speaking through the embassy chauffeur) citing diplomatic immunity. The guard insisted, raising his tone. We quietly refused again and prepared to close the car trunk. Suddenly the guard shouldered his way between Sheardown and me and put his hand on the bag. Sheardown instantly brought down the trunk lid, hard, on the guard’s arm. The guard uttered a cry of pain and withdrew his arm quickly and in that second Sheardown slammed down the lid, closing it. The guard let loose a stream of imprecations in Farsi, still nursing his arm, but we got into the car, deliberately and without haste, and drove away. Amazingly he did not pursue us, or fire.
I have often thought since that John’s act was the most clearheaded and courageous thing that I have ever seen.
John Kneale is a former foreign service officer and author. This excerpt is from his 1993 book Foreign Service, pp. 128—9. He served in the Canadian Embassy in Tehran as economic and trade counsellor, and during the hostage crisis prepared reports for Ottawa and Washington on the impact of US sanctions against Iran. He was also the embassy spokesperson and dealt with the many US, Canadian and other foreign media representatives who came to the Canadian Embassy for briefings. He remained a close friend to John Sheardown.
View the original scanned pages →
Originally published in bout de papier, Vol. 27, No. 2 (2013) — Spring 2013 // Printemps 2013, p. 27. Read the rest of this issue →
