The Gimlet Eye - the Iraq Question is whether Jordan's Hashemites will again rule Iraq - Column

National Review, Oct 9, 1995 by Quinton Letts

A FOREIGN report was recently passed my way -- "passed my way" being a preferable construction to the coarse, albeit more factual, "I read this in some crumpled news sheet over a man's shoulder on the subway." The dispatch, drafted in creditable prose, referred to "Jordan's King HJussein and the Iraq Question."

When political issues become "Questions" it is normally time to hoof it. "Questions" are for policy advisors or standardized-test makers. New York Times op-ed writers cherish a meaty "Question." But for the rest of us, and that includes politicians, "questions" quite spoil a ripening day.

Caesar's morning chores, already made onerous by the need to tie those knee-high boot laces, included consideration of the Gaul Question. Is it any wonder Julius lost his hair? Metternich, on reading his equivalent of the President's daily intelligence bulletin must have groaned at that recurring "Item 1.- The Napoleon Question." And Gladstone, on rising, would push aside his breakfast egg and let drop his linen napkin in order to ponder the Irish Question. It is a conundrum which to this day dents appetites in Downing Street.

In similar fashion the Iraq Question once made the air congeal in the White House. When it was mentioned, the tick-tock of the grandfather clock somehow became accentuated and the dust flecks lingered longer in the shaft of autumn sunlight. Mr. President, blinking in dismay, found himself yearning for the school bell, itching to go outside and play ball.

So it is with Jordon's King Hussein and the Iraq Question. Hussein Ibn Talal, holder of the Orders of Al-Nahda, Al-Kawkab, and Al- Istiqlal -- not to mention a clean driver's license -- is chief of the Hashemites and author of the 1962 volume Uneasy Lies the Head. In a region which has fondness for decapitation this seems an uncomfortable title for a work of autobiography.

It is also Hussein's unhappy lot in life to be the neighbor of our old acquaintance Saddam Hussein, President of Iraq. Despot-for- Life Saddam, an uncommonly cheerless effendi, has been riding low in the water. Some members of his family canceled their milk orders and checked out of the country. But it is more than mere in-law trouble. Around the souks swirl whispers that it may be time to "sell" Saddams. And when these souk fellows sell, boy, do you know it!

This was where my subway newspaper report slunk in. It quoted King Hussein as saying that he had "no ambition for a position in Iraq" but that if, say, the position of top man just happened to fall vacant -- and here I precis -- then you could take it that one of his Hashemite cousins would be filling in an application form and mailing it off to whichever Bahdad employment agency lands the contract. Hashemites ruled Iraq from 1921 to 1958, and made as fair a fist of it as they could. "If (the Iraqi people) find that a certain regime served them in the past. solved their disputes and maintained their unity, then that is up to them," said King Hussein, little finger aloft as he sipped from his tea cup.

Since the bad-tempered French Revolution, monarchies have not had a great press. The Italians and Libyans dumped their royals, as did the Greeks and the poor old Yugoslavs. The Albanians, finding themselves a king short earlier this century, offered their throne to the great Englishman and cricketer C.G.Fry. Alas, it was a busy week in the Fry household, and he declined. Meanwhile, from China to Germany, from the plains of India to the back bazaars of Constantinople, emperors folded tents, surrendered privileges, and moved to addresses in the principality of Monaco. From there they gambol around the Mediterranean basin, pausing only to adjust an eyebrow and pose for Parisian glossies. It is an exhausting life.

The Spaniards bucked the trend. In 1975, marking what sportwriters might term an incredible third-quarter comeback for the boys from Bourbon, King Juan Carlos became Spain's head of state. His predecessor, Senor Franco, was another somber hombre and one of the few Fascists unable to make his country's trains run on time. Even his own departure was delayed. So the eventual arrival of Juan Carlos was welcomed, not least by heraldic sign-writers, who had sorely missed the business.

Elsewhere, the trend has been anti-monarchist, to the point that even Britain's House of Windsor has wobbled. Numismatists live in dread of a world without myriad franked coins. Gold-braid manufacturers awake at dead of night, temples damp, teeth clenched, after nightmares of a world in which heads of state will wear only serge suits. Composers of trombone music fret that the days of good, insulting national anthems may soon end forever.

Which brings us back to King Hussein. If his wheeze works about reopening an office of Monarchies Inc. in downtown Baghdad we may be in for fun. For the man who lands the job -- no point applying for this one, girls -- there may be occasional dull spots. One of the things about being a king is that you must open a dutiful number of hospitals, drugstores, camel showrooms, etc. So there will be ribbon-cutting in Basra, pretty speeches in Kirkuk. A memory for names would help. If Qatar's Emir Sheikh Hamad ibn Khalifa al-Thani drops by for a sheep's eye, do try to get the names in the right order.