Resident Scholar Kenneth P. Green

Looking for an alternative to the Hamptons this summer? Try the Iranian Disinformation Tour, as chronicled by Nathan Hodge and Sharon Weinberger, two veteran defense journalists whose somewhat ghoulish fascination with nuclear weapons took them on a two-year pilgrimage to nuclear weapon facilities in "A Nuclear Family Vacation" (Bloomsbury Press).

"Vacation" reads like a travelogue, and is interesting enough if you're a nuke nut, though at times it reminds you of having to sit through your mad uncle's videotape of his trip to the Grand Canyon.

But one chapter stands out, which recounts a visit to Iran in February 2007, when Hodge and Weinberger managed to wangle their way into a propaganda tour that seemed an odd combination of a carnival side show and an old Soviet-style disinformation tour.

The Iranians were clearly intent on sending two messages: First, that Iran's nuclear program is completely open, completely transparent, and completely peaceful; second, that the Iranians are willing to use human shields to protect their nuclear facilities.

But the Iranians were not even as subtle as the Soviets: their delivery of the openness message was ham-handed, and reminiscent of Baghdad Bob. The journalistic pack (which included Christiane Amanpour) were taken on a tour of the Esfahan Uranium Conversion Facility, where only the least technologically revealing part of the nuclear fuel production process happens. They were denied access to the Natanz uranium enrichment facility, which is where the Iranians run centrifuges that can enrich uranium to either reactor fuel or weapons-grade uranium.

Even while denying access, their tour guide claimed that not only was Natanz an open book, but the most open book in all the world: President [Mahmoud Ahmadinejad] "invited the whole world to come to Natanz, not only the media. The whole world!"

Later, Hodge and Weinberger interviewed Rahman Ghahremanpour, a government-affiliated analyst at an Iranian think tank who explained that all that is being hidden at Natanz are trade secrets. "And this is why," Ghahremanpour explained, "we did not agree to demonstrate the fuel cycle in Natanz. Because before this, unfortunately, some inspectors leaked our specific and secretive data to others." This would have been much more believable if a) it wasn't already known that Iran took centrifuges from Pakistan and reverse-engineered them, simply copying existing technology, and b) if Ghahremanpour were a bit less prone to hysterical fits of "almost teenage giggles."

If the openness message was a bit clownish, Iran's willingness to use human shields was straightforward and sinister. First, the journalists were treated to a discourse on the disastrous environmental impacts that would happen if Israel bombed their facilities. "There is a serious concern," they were told, about the "ecological consequences of an attack." Clearly, this was to be a take-home message: "That is why through you--in the media--we expect that these concerns would be expressed to the whole world."

Second, the journalists were given a tour of the conveniently nearby city of Esfahan, a "UNESCO World Heritage Site," with "1,210 registered historical landmarks," "8,000 years of history;" and that sees three million tourists a year. The subtext, write Hodge and Weinberger, could not have been more obvious: If you try to bomb the Uranium Conversion Facility, you might end up striking archaeological treasures.

And if the US or Israel did attack, there's no guarantee of success, Ghahremanpour taunted. "The nuclear technology activities are distributed within Iran. If you want to destroy the nuclear technology totally, you should attack all the cities: in Bushehr, in Kerman, in Esfanah, in Natanz, and in Tehran, in Karaj, in Mashhad."

It's unclear from what Hodge and Weinberger saw whether the Iranians really want weapon's grade enrichment; whether their efforts are to build their own nuclear reactors, rather than relying on outsiders; or whether the effort is simply Ahmadinejad sticking a thumb in America's eye.

But one has to ask, should the kind of people who would hold prized cultural artifacts and tourist attractions hostage be the kind of people one gives the benefit of the doubt?

Kenneth P. Green is a resident scholar at AEI.