61: Chapter 58 Oil in October

October 29, 1978, Abadan.

The national oil workers' strike historically broke out at the end of October. Reza knew this timeline, so he had sent Hassan back to Abadan three days in advance to tell Hemmati: "Do not lead it, but do not stop it either; let it happen naturally."

By the time Hemmati received these instructions, people were already spreading the word at the gates of the Abadan refinery—it wasn't organized; it was spontaneous. Like sparks in a dry field, it jumped from one workshop to another, from one shift to the next. Jalali's arrest had lit the first fire, and the continuous news of demonstrations in Tehran had lit the second. Everything else was just the dry grass burning on its own.

On the morning of October 29th, the night shift workers at the main Abadan refinery did not hand over their shifts; they simply stopped where they were. When the day shift workers arrived at the factory gate, they didn't go in. They stood outside. No one gave a speech, no one shouted slogans; they just stood there.

Management came out to persuade them, but no one listened. Provincial government officials arrived, but no one paid them any mind.

By noon, the news had spread to every oil refining facility in the entire province of Khuzestan. By the afternoon, the refinery in Ahvaz followed suit. By evening, workers at several small oil fields along the southern coast had stopped their Pump Station operations.

A call from Tehran reached the Governors Mansion at 3:00 PM.

The caller was a deputy secretary-general of the Provincial Coordination Committee. There was obvious panic in his voice, demanding that Reza immediately step in to stabilize the situation and resume production.

Reza said: "I will go and check on the situation."

He arrived at the gate of the main Abadan refinery at dusk; this was his first public appearance in a place where workers gathered in three months. Someone in the crowd recognized him, the news spread, and the people in the front row cleared a path.

Hemmati was standing next to the factory gate. Seeing Reza arrive, he did not go up to meet him, but stayed where he was, waiting for him to approach.

Reza walked up to him and said in a low voice: "What are the numbers?"

"About 1,200 in this factory alone. Counting the other locations, there are a little over 4,000 people participating in the work stoppage today." Hemmati replied in an equally low voice, his face expressionless. "There are a few more locations waiting to see what happens; they should follow suit tomorrow."

Reza nodded. He didn't say anything to encourage or discourage them; he only said: "Tell me how Jalali's three children are doing today."

Hemmati was taken aback for a moment, then said: "The oldest is at school, and the younger two are with his wife at her parents' home. They are all fine."

"Good," Reza said. "That will be all for now."

Then he turned around and said to the provincial government officials who had followed him: "I have seen the situation. The workers have demands and need time to communicate. Do not send anyone to press them tonight, and do not even consider using any forceful measures. Whoever wants to use force must answer to me first."

The official turned pale and said: "Your Highness, Tehran..."

"I will handle Tehran," Reza said, his tone calm but leaving no room for negotiation. "Your task is to go back and tell everyone: do nothing tonight."

The official dared not say anything more and withdrew.

Reza stood outside the factory gate for nearly an hour. He didn't make any speeches; he just stood there, letting the workers see him, letting them see that he was not standing on the same side as those officials.

That hour was worth millions.

It wasn't because of what he said, but because of what he didn't say—his silence and his very presence were a clear signal, letting the 4,000 striking workers know that their Governor was there, and that he was on their side.

On the way back to the Governors Mansion, Hassan asked from inside the car: "What do you intend to do with this strike?"

"Nothing," Reza said. "Let it run its course."

"Tehran will apply pressure."

"They will," Reza said. "After they apply pressure, I will find an excuse to stall, stalling until it can no longer be delayed, and then, using 'His Highness's coordination efforts' as a pretext, I will have the workers partially resume production. But the core demands—regarding the handling of Jalali and the other detainees—I will hold onto, to be used in the future."

Hassan thought for a moment: "In that case, the workers will feel that Your Highness helped them, but didn't completely solve the problem, and they will continue to have expectations of Your Highness."

"Correct," Reza said. "Expectation is the best rope; it is more effective than orders and more lasting than money."

There was silence in the car for a while.

Hassan asked: "When can Jalali get out?"

"We have to wait until the window of opportunity created by Mousavi's report has been fully utilized," Reza said. "It will probably take another month. I will find a plausible entry point through Najjari to get him out, but not now. Right now, he is more valuable inside than outside."

Hassan said nothing, but for a split second, there was something on his face—not skepticism, but something closer to the heavy feeling that someone from the lower classes instinctively experiences when hearing the phrase, "a person is more valuable inside than outside."

Reza noticed this expression but offered no explanation, nor did he retract the statement.

Some things are just like that; they can be explained, but there is no point in explaining them, because the weight is real and cannot be explained away.

On October 31st, the national oil workers' strike officially spread throughout Iran.

Calls from Tehran came six times in one day. Reza took the first three, and had people block the subsequent three, saying the Governor was communicating with worker representatives.

By the fourth day, the National Oil Company's daily production had dropped to 30 percent of normal levels. When this figure reached Tehran, it was said that King Pahlavi's chief economic advisor stood straight up from his chair that day and said something that no one in Tehran's elite circles had dared to say in public for a long time:

"This country is finished."

Reza heard the retelling of this statement from Karimi two days later. He had no reaction; he simply wrote a line on a blank space in his notebook, without noting the date or the background, just one sentence:

"The end is the beginning."

In early November, the scale of the demonstrations in Tehran continued to expand. Pahlavi gave a speech on television, admitting to past mistakes and expressing a willingness to listen to the voice of the people.

Reza sat in the study of the Governors Mansion, looking at that weary face on the television. He turned the volume down, then picked up the tea on the table and took a sip.

The day a strongman admits his mistakes is the day this chess game enters its endgame.

He picked up the dark blue notebook, flipped to the latest page, and began to re-evaluate every node for the next four months.

Every step had to be calculated clearly, because from now on, every piece on the chessboard would begin to move at an accelerated pace, and on an accelerating chessboard, one wrong move left no chance to turn back.