The Seven Sisters

The Great Oil Companies and the World They Made

Anthony Sampson

Hodder and Stoughton, 1975, ISBN 0 340 19427 8

Chapter 11 - Part 2

The Crunch

But to the radical critics the new arrangement was at least as 
sinister as the old one. Professor John Blair, the compiler of the 
original FTC report on the Petroleum Cartel, suspected that the 
industry was now entering a new phase of 'bilateral monopoly', with 
the producing countries as sellers and the companies as buyers: so 
long as the companies kept the exclusive right to buy the oil, he 
believed, they could control the supply, 'which is the heart of the 
control of the price'. Professor Adelman saw the whole situation 
after the Teheran agreement as a take-over of the old cartel by the 
new one: 'The producing countries now have a cartel tolerated by the 
consuming countries and actively supported by the United States.' 
'OPEC,' he warned, 'has come not to expel, but to exploit.'

Certainly, as Levy, had warned, the companies' role was now much more 
awkward, much harder to separate from politics. As Jim Akins warned 
them from the State Department, they might find themselves as 
minority partners of both producer and consumer governments, with a 
more circumscribed role in negotiating. 'How the companies react to 
these pressures,' wrote Akins, 'and what they offer as alternatives, 
will to a large extent determine their future form and their future 
activities'. In fact, they did not react. Pressed on both sides, they 
hoped for the best, and for the time being they seemed to co-exist 
peacefully with the producers.

But even as the Aramco agreement was being prepared a new crisis was 
brewing up in the Middle East; and before it was signed, Yamani had 
left the U.S. in a hurry. A chain of events had been started which 
was to mix up the question of prices inextricably with the question 
of politics, a mixture made more dangerous by the growing world 
shortage of oil.

Shortage

Up till the late 'sixties, the sisters were worried about having too 
much oil, not too little. In May 1967 Michael Haider, then chairman 
of Exxon, answered a shareholder's question at the annual meeting in 
Houston with the words: 'I wish I could say I will be around when 
there is a shortage of crude oil outside the United States.' A year 
later Socal in California was specially worried about the Alaska 
discoveries, in which they had no share. A Socal company memo in 
December 1968 warned that 'within five to ten years there may be 
large new crude supplies from the Arctic regions of the world seeking 
markets and thereby extending and magnifying the surplus supply 
problems.' (Multinational Hearings: 1974, Part 7, p. 360.)

In 1969 George Piercy of Exxon was fairly confident that his 
company's future supplies would meet demands. On the one side he 
expected that the boom in Japan -- the biggest single importer of oil 
-- would begin to slow down. On the other hand there were the huge 
new expected sources of oil, including Alaska, Libya and eventually 
the North Sea. But already there was an ominous turn-down in Exxon's 
master-graph, showing spare capacity compared to world demand. By 
1970 the trend was much more serious.

The world's demand for oil was ahead of all the predictions; a memo 
from Gulf in March 1970 pointed out that their estimates of two years 
earlier were 8 percent lower than the actual consumption: 'if once 
again our estimates of future free world demand prove low, then a 
strain on productive capacity may be approached before 1980'. Was 
this consistent underestimation always a genuine statistical error, 
or was it sometimes inspired by the companies' instinctive fear of a 
glut?

Within the United States, production of oil was no longer going up, 
and after 1970 it went down. For the first time the optimism of the 
early drillers that there would always be oil somewhere else was now 
unfounded. Already by 1970 28 percent of the oil used in the U.S. was 
imported. The possible danger of this to national security prompted 
President Nixon to appoint a special Cabinet task force, headed by 
George Schultz, which reported in 1970 with historic complacency, 
against the advice of the oil companies (see submissions by Exxon, 
Texaco, Mobil and Socal: Investigations Subcommittee, Jan. 21, 1974, 
p. 184-194), that there was little danger of an Arab boycott, and 
that existing import controls should be liberalised. The president 
did not accept the report, but import quotas were nevertheless 
relaxed, and the imports of Middle East oil went up and up.

The oil-producers had already begun to realise that their bargaining 
position was stronger, as Yamani had warned Piercy in February 1971 
('George, you know you cannot take a shutdown'). By 1972 many experts 
reckoned that the world was heading for an acute oil shortage in a 
few years, and Shell was sending out serious warnings. In October 
1971, Barran of Shell warned that the days of cheap oil were over, 
and that by the end of the century oil consumers would be 'looking 
down the muzzle of a gun'. There was a new danger sign when Kuwait 
decided in 1972 to conserve its resources and to keep its production 
below 3 million barrels a day.

For BP and Gulf, the two partners in Kuwait, this was menacing news. 
But Exxon, like the other American partners in Aramco, was not 
seriously worried, for they were confident that Saudi Arabia could 
supply all the extra required. By early 1973 the Saudis were 
producing 61 million barrels a day, and the prospects were even more 
dazzling. As other parts of the world became more uncertain, so Saudi 
Arabia became more crucial.

After the companies had agreed to Yamani's participation terms, it 
soon emerged that they would push up prices. For there was now great 
demand for the relatively small amount of oil that the producing 
countries were selling on the free market. And by the beginning of 
1973 the price in the free market was rapidly rising. ('The rise in 
the market price,' commented Petroleum Press Services in November 
1973, 'is partly accounted for by the disruption of normal trading 
relations following the participation agreements. It was the high 
prices obtainable by state companies for participation crude -- 
equivalent to only about 21 percent of the Middle East market -- that 
whetted the appetites of host governments.')

In April 1973 a new warning appeared in the august pages of Foreign 
Affairs, much more alarming than Levy's two years before, from none 
other than Jim Akins, now increasingly outspoken. He presented the 
ominous statistic that world consumption of oil for the next twelve 
years was expected to be greater than the total world consumption of 
oil throughout history up till 1973. The loss of production from any 
two Middle East countries could cause a panic among consumers. The 
price of oil was likely to go up to $5 a barrel well before 1980. The 
Arabs could use oil as a political weapon, for the advanced countries 
were obviously now vulnerable to boycott.

Akins' warnings were prophetic, but some of his critics insisted that 
they were self-fulfilling. The State Department was virtually 
advising the Arabs to put up prices, and advertising the West's 
weakness. Adelman, writing in the fall of 1972, had insisted that the 
talk of shortage merely reflected the interests of the big oil 
companies, in cahoots with the Arabs. There was 'absolutely no basis 
to fear an acute oil scarcity over the next fifteen years'. (Foreign 
Policy, New York, Fall 1972.) Adelman, like many other oil experts at 
the time, was confident that an Arab embargo could not be sustained, 
as the fiasco of 1967 had suggested.

But the Arabs hardly needed Akins' advice. For the signs of a 
shortage were now visible everywhere. The summer of 1973 was an eerie 
one for the oil companies. The demand for oil was going up above the 
wildest predictions -- in Europe, in Japan, and most of all in the 
United States. Imports from the Middle East to the U.S. were still 
racing up: production inside the United States was still falling. In 
April President Nixon had again lifted restrictions on imports of 
oil, so that Middle East oil flowed in still faster; and the 
administration did nothing to control a scramble for oil. While the 
majors were trying to establish their safe sources of supply, the 
independents were bidding frantically for the 'participation oil' 
from the producers, thus pushing the price up and up. (See testimony 
of Dillard Spriggs, Multinational Hearings 1974, Part 4, p. 61.)

In the gathering crisis, some oil companies tried to involve the 
consumer governments. Sir Eric Drake in the BP annual report of 1972 
said there was an urgent need for consuming governments 'to adopt 
coherent, balanced and co-ordinated energy policies'. And in June 
1973 Frank McFadzean of Shell told a seminar at Harvard that the 
energy problem was now a question of political power which required 
government intervention. (Petroleum Intelligence Weekly: April 23, 
1973.) The State Department, urged by Jim Akins, had tried 
periodically since 1971 to arrange joint talks with the Europeans, 
without success, but it was not till June 1973 that OECD set up a 
group to discuss emergency oil policy, to report in November: and it 
was too late. The prospects of serious coordination across the 
Atlantic and Pacific were anyway slender: each continent had a 
different dependence on oil, and a different attitude to the Arabs 
and Israel. The more political the oil, the more it divided the West.

Yamani and the other oil ministers soon became aware of their new 
opportunity. InJune 1973, as prices were zooming up, OPEC summoned 
another meeting in Geneva, to insist on a further increase because of 
the further devaluation of the dollar. The militants -- Algeria, 
Libya and Iraq -- were now pressing for unilateral control of price, 
but eventually OPEC agreed on a new formula which put up prices by 
another 12 percent. One evening after midnight Yamani went on a jog 
through Geneva with three correspondents, and predicted that this 
would be the last time prices would be negotiated with the companies.

In early August Yamani warned Aramco that the Teheran agreement would 
have to be renegotiated well before its time limit of 1975. The next 
change would be a very large one and there would be no real 
negotiation: 'there will be discussion within OPEC,' Yamani told 
them, 'with the wild ones insisting on a very high level. And there 
will be a compromise within OPEC, but then the companies will have no 
choice.' (Company cable to New York: Multinational Report, p. 148.)

By September 1973, for the first time since OPEC's beginning, market 
price of oil had risen above the posted price. It was a sure sign 
that OPEC were now in a very strong bargaining position. The glut 
that had weakened and divided them since 1960 was now emphatically 
over. Armed with this knowledge, OPEC invited the companies to meet 
them in Vienna on October 8 to discuss 'substantial increases' in the 
price of oil.

The King's Message

While the shortage loomed, the Arabs were at last achieving closer 
unity. They were determined to use oil as a weapon against Israel, 
and by 1973 the militants were being joined by the country on which 
the four American sisters had pinned all their expectations for 
increase. The very fact that Saudi Arabia was now far the biggest oil 
exporter made King Feisal more vulnerable in the face of his Arab 
colleagues, and the danger of an embargo more likely; for he could 
not afford to be seen as a blackleg.

The oil companies became well aware of Feisal's worsening predicament 
but their attempts to warn Washington were met with scepticism. As 
with the shortage, it was a case of Wolf, Wolf. The oil lobby, which 
had always been so ready to invoke the national interest to protect 
profits, were now really dealing with the national interest -- but it 
was disbelieved or ignored. It was an ironic consequence of the State 
Department's policy, proclaimed twenty years before, that 'American 
oil operations should be the instruments of foreign policy in the 
Middle East'. They had now delegated that policy so completely that 
when the warnings came, the bells did not ring.

Ever since the Six-Day War, the Aramcons in their compound in Saudi 
Arabia had become alarmed by King Feisal's growing concern over 
Israel. Frank Jungers and his colleagues carefully briefed all 
visitors to the camp, ranging from Senator Gravel to General 
Goodpaster, about the depth of Arab feelings and the dangers of the 
U.S. foreign policy. 'The story of the senseless dissipation of the 
goodwill we used to have among the Arabs,' said one of many such 
briefings, 'constitutes one of the saddest chapters in the history of 
our foreign relations.' (Multinational Hearings: 1974, Part 7, p. 
524.)

At the beginning of 1973 the King was taking some trouble to 
influence Washington, both through Aramco and through Akins, who 
provided the chief link between the Arabs and Washington. But Akins 
had to go to extreme lengths to convey the Saudis' views: in January 
1973 John Ehrlichman, President Nixon's aide at the time, was 
preparing a visit to Saudi Arabia. Akins asked Aramco to arrange for 
Sheikh Yamani to 'take Ehrlichman under his wing and see to it that 
Ehrlichman was given the message: we Saudis love you people but your 
American policy is hurting us.'

On May 3, 1973 Jungers paid a courtesy call on King Feisal, for half 
an hour. The King was cordial but his tone was quite different to 
that of earlier meetings. The King touched only briefly on his usual 
hobby-horse of the Zionist-Communist conspiracy, but he warned 
Jungers that Zionists and Communists 'were on the verge of having 
American interests thrown out of the area'. Only in Saudi Arabia, the 
King stressed, were American interests relatively safe; but even in 
his kingdom it 'would be more and more difficult to hold off the tide 
of opinion'. The King was amazed that Washington failed to perceive 
its own interests: 'it was almost inconceivable in any democratic 
state' (he told Jungers) 'for a government to be so far away from the 
interests of its people'. But it was easily put right, he went on: 'a 
simple disavowal of Israeli policies and actions by the U.S. 
Government would go a long way ...' (Multinational Hearings: Part 7, 
p. 506 ff.)

Jungers then went on to see Kamal Adham, the King's chamberlain and 
close adviser, who gave a more ominous message. The Saudis he said, 
in spite of their problems with the Egyptians, could not stand alone 
when hostilities broke out. Adham was sure that Sadat, a courageous 
and far-sighted man, would have to 'embark on some sort of 
hostilities' in order to marshal American opinion to press for a 
Middle East settlement. It was a very specific and accurate warning 
on top of the King's audience: 'I knew he meant war', said Jungers 
later, 'the King liked to give signals, first subtly and then 
explicitly. It was quite different from his earlier warnings.' 
(Interview with author, February 1975.) Jungers quickly passed on the 
warning to Exxon and Co. in New York and California.

Three weeks later the four Middle East directors of the parent 
companies -- Hedlund of Exxon, Moses of Mobil, Decrane of Texaco and 
McQuinn of Socal -- were at the Geneva International Hotel for a 
meeting with Yamani to negotiate about participation. Yamani 
suggested that they might pay a courtesy call on the King, who had 
just been to Paris and Cairo, where Sadat had given him 'a bad time' 
(as Yamani put it) pressing him to step up his political support. The 
King, after a few pleasantries, was much more curt and abrupt than 
usual. He warned the four directors that time was running out. He 
would not allow his kingdom to become isolated, because of America's 
failure to support him, and he used the phrase 'you will lose 
everything' -- which to the visitors could only mean that their oil 
concession was at risk. The King asked them to make sure that the 
American public were told where their true interests lay, instead of 
being 'misled by controlled news media'.

The Aramco men lost no time, and a week later they were all four of 
them in Washington to lobby top government officials. To each they 
repeated the King's message, that unless action was taken urgently, 
'everything would be lost'. On May 30 they called first on the State 
Department, to see a team led by Joseph Sisco, in charge of Middle 
Eastern affairs. But Sisco had heard such warnings before, and he 
assured them that his information was otherwise. The CIA had 
reported, through its own contacts including close relatives of the 
King, that Feisal was only bluffing: he had resisted pressure from 
Nasser in the past, and could resist pressure from Sadat now.

They then went to the White House, hoping to see Kissinger; but they 
were fobbed off with General Scowcroft, and other advisers including 
Charles Debono, then the energy expert. Finally they went to the 
Pentagon to see Bill Clements, who was then acting Secretary of 
Defence, while James Schlesinger was awaiting confirmation. Clements 
had been an oil man himself, with his own drilling company, and was 
widely regarded in Washington as a key figure in the oil lobby. But 
he made clear to his visitors that he had his own information and 
views about the Arabs: they would never unite, the companies' fears 
were unfounded, and King Feisal was dependent on America. At the end 
of their day in Washington, the Aramco men cabled sadly back to 
Jungers in Saudi Arabia that there was 'a large degree of disbelief' 
that any drastic action was imminent. 'Some believe that His Majesty 
is calling wolf where no wolf exists except in his imagination.' 
(Multinational Hearings: Part 7, p. 509.)

But the four companies still wanted to show the King that they were 
trying to influence American opinion. Each wanted to protect their 
future share of the concession, and they soon vied with each other to 
show their helpfulness. Bill Tavoulareas, the president of Mobil, was 
a close friend of Yamani, and he personally lobbied Sisco at the 
State Department; but Sisco again was sceptical. Mobil also prepared 
an advertisement for the New York Times on June 21. It was very 
cautiously worded: it explained how America was becoming increasingly 
dependent on imports from Saudi Arabia, how relations were 
deteriorating and how 'political considerations may become the 
critical element in Saudi Arabia's decisions'. It concluded that it 
was 'time now for the world to insist on a settlement in the Middle 
East.' But the New York Times thought it too inflammatory for the 
usual position for Mobil's advertisements, opposite the editorial 
page. In Saudi Arabia, nevertheless, the advertisement had the 
required effect: Yamani wrote a letter to Mobil recognising this 
'positive step'.

Exxon was rather more discreet in their support. They decided against 
advertising, but Ken Jamieson pressed their case in Washington, and 
Howard Page gave a speech in New York to alumni of the American 
University in Beirut, about the need to relieve the strained 
political relationships between the United States and the Arab 
countries. In California, Socal now became worried that they were 
slipping behind, and their Foreign Review Committee was concerned 
that 'Socal will be conspicuous in our absence'. Consequently Socal's 
very conservative chairman, Otto Miller, wrote a letter to 
shareholders on July 26, urging that the U.S. should work more 
closely with the Arab governments, and 'acknowledge the legitimate 
interests of all the peoples of the Middle East...' The letter was 
well-publicised, and caused a small furore among Jewish communities, 
especially in San Francisco.

There was also plenty of activity from old Jack McCloy, now 
seventy-nine, and still representing all seven of the sisters. He 
talked to his friends in Washington: he warned Sisco that the Saudis 
meant what they said, and he urged Kissinger to try to mediate. 'I 
kept jumping on him,' he told me, 'to say that it was an imperative 
of statesmanship to get the Middle East settled; that the 
administration mustn't just think in terms of the next New York 
election'.

The companies were certainly persistent enough. Why, then, did they 
have no discernible effect? Had not the oil companies given at least 
$2.7 million to President Nixon's campaign? Had not Gulf Oil been 
contributing millions of dollars, including a secret gift of $100,000 
in 1971, with the express understanding that they would be 'on the 
inside track'? Yet, when four huge global companies, with billions of 
assets behind them, wanted to pass a critical message from King 
Feisal they apparently had no influence whatever.

There were several explanations. The Israeli lobby was undoubtedly 
far stronger, and American intelligence about the embargo and the war 
was heavily influenced by the Israelis. Secondly the administration, 
having for so long separated the two strands of Middle East foreign 
policy, still kept them in different compartments. But thirdly, the 
American oilmen -- as some of them wryly admit -- had lost nearly all 
their credibility. When the companies did have something serious to 
say, hardly anyone believed them.

------------

In the meantime the oil weapon was gathering support among the other 
Arab states. In May, Dr. Nadim Pachachi, the ingenious Iraqi in exile 
who had been secretary of OPEC, put forward a new political proposal 
which took advantage of the shortage: he suggested that the supply of 
crude oil to the West should be frozen to enforce Israel's withdrawal 
from the cease-fire lines of 1967. The next month the Libyans set a 
new pace of militancy. Colonel Qadaffi nationalised Bunker Hunt's 
concession, saying that the United States deserved 'a good hard slap 
on its cool and insolent face'.

President Sadat of Egypt, instead of moving closer to the Libyans, 
now significantly altered his alignment. At the end of August 1973 he 
flew to Saudi Arabia for a secret visit to King Feisal. The meeting 
was momentous. Feisal promised Sadat that, if American policy in the 
Middle East did not change, he would restrict the increases of oil 
production to 10 percent a year -- far short of Aramco's 
requirements. Thus Egypt, for the first time, had oil pressure behind 
her diplomacy.

Just after the visit, Qadaffi, celebrating the fourth anniversary of 
the Libyan revolution, announced that he would nationalise 51 percent 
of all the oil companies operating in Libya, including the 
subsidiaries of Exxon, Mobil, Texaco, Socal and Shell. Two days later 
the Libyans announced that the price of Libyan oil would go up to $6 
a barrel -- nearly twice the Persian Gulf price -- and threatened to 
cut off all exports to America if Washington continued to support 
Israel. Soon afterwards all ten foreign ministers of the Arab oil 
exporting countries (OAPEC) met to discuss the possible use of oil as 
a weapon to change American policy. A fortnight later Sheikh Yamani 
formally warned the United States that there could be a cutback of 
Saudi Arabian oil.

President Nixon appeared on television to warn the Libyans of the 
dangers of a boycott of oil, reminding them of the experience of 
Mossadeq in Iran twenty years before. But oil experts knew that the 
threat was hollow. As Ian Seymour asked in the New York Times: 'could 
it really be that the President of the U.S. had not yet grasped the 
predominant fact of life in the energy picture over the coming 
decade, that the problem is not whether oil will find markets, but 
whether markets will find Oil?' (New York Times, October 7, 1973.)

[continued: Chapter 12 - Embargo]

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