More than malarkey in the
Strait
By Wesley Pruden
PrudenPolitics.com
It isn’t saber-rattling by Iran that’s making noise
in the Middle East, but rhetoric-rattling. Nobody
does it better.
The latest purveyor of big malarkey is the chief of
the Iranian navy, who would execute the Iranian
threat to close the Strait of Hormuz in answer to
the Western sanctions against Iran for its work on a
nuclear weapon.
“Closing the Strait of Hormuz for Iran’s armed
forces is really easy,” he says, “or as Iranians
say, it will be easier than drinking a glass of
water.” (Those witty Persians.) Then, in deference
to the real world, he added a caveat: “But right
now, we don’t need to shut it.”
The Iranian admiral, or whatever they call a navy
chief who never, never gets sick at sea, obviously
doesn’t have Mahmoud Ahmadinejad’s gift for rhetoric
both flaming and empty. Not being a politician, he
understands the risks in challenging the U.S. Fifth
Fleet, with its 20 ships and abundance of combat
aircraft.
He certainly doesn’t frighten anyone, not even
himself or his shipmates. The British Foreign Office
dismissed the talk as the “rhetoric” it is. “Iranian
politicians regularly use this type of rhetoric to
distract attention from the real issue, which is the
nature of their nuclear program.” The U.S. State
Department, which rarely uses the straightforward
English that our cousins do across the sea,
dismissed the Iranian threat as merely “an element
of bluster.”
Rhetoric has become the chief export of the Islamic
countries, oil being only second. It’s in the DNA.
Once upon a time a drowsy follower of the prophet
lay against an olive tree close by the village gate,
trying to take a nap. But he was surrounded by a
gaggle of village children who were raising the
usual din of children at innocent play.
“Children, children,” he cried. “A man is giving
away melons at the other end of the village. Go and
take as many as you like.”
The ploy worked and the children quickly ran away,
their feet raising little clouds of dust. The drowsy
follower of the prophet settled back to continue to
get his nap at last. But suddenly he bolted to his
feet, wide awake, and ran to join the children.
“What am I doing here?” he mumbled to himself.
“Someone is giving away melons at the other end of
the village.”
Arab bluster has little power any longer to frighten
anyone but the credulous, and the price of oil,
which is usually sensitive to any prospective
disruptions of the market, ticked upward only a
little in the wake of the Iranian threat, and then
subsided the next day.
Nevertheless, the Iranians could disrupt the Hormuz
chokepoint; about 40 percent of all the Gulf oil
goes through the Strait, which divides Iran from the
United Arab Emirates and Oman. The strait narrows to
a width of only 21 miles where the Persian Gulf
flows through on its way to the Arabian Sea and
thence to the Indian Ocean. The U.S. Department of
Energy calls the Strait “the world’s most important
oil chokepoint.” If Iran could actually close the
chokepoint, it would disrupt oil not only from the
United Arab Emirates and Oman, but from Saudi
Arabia, Kuwait, Bahrain and Qatar. This is why it’s
not going to happen.
But the rulers of Iran, goofy as they usually sound,
are actually as clever as the villager in hot
pursuit of the mythical melons. They understand that
the window of opportunity to disrupt the Iranian
nuclear-weapons program is swiftly closing, and
dispensing a little more apocalyptic rhetoric could
guarantee that the West—meaning the Obama
administration—will do nothing about it.
The International Atomic Energy Agency reported only
last month that there is evidence that the Iranians,
despite their assertions that they are only working
on peaceful applications of nuclear energy, are
actually at work on a bomb and the computer modeling
of how to use it. The Washington Post reported in
November that nuclear scientists from the old Soviet
Union and Pakistan have joined North Koreans in
designing and building the high-precision detonators
needed to set off the chain reaction of a nuclear
explosion.
The buzz in the West that something dramatic is
afoot in Iran has been heard in Tehran, too. It’s a
rattle of more than rhetoric. A loaded gun in the
hands of a 5-year-old, after all, can wreak enormous
damage.
Wesley Pruden is editor emeritus of The
Washington Times.