Then, in 1963, there was a revolution.
I have used the word “revolution” because the Ba’athist coup of that year, though once again mainly the work of army officers, was more than a mere transfer of power from one nationalist faction to another; it brought about basic political changes. Syria became a one-party state and, while rejoining the UAR, managed to do so without re-surrendering its sovereign independence. The program of socialization was resumed. In May of ‘63 all the banks were nationalized.
It was at that time that I came to my decision.
I knew a good deal about the Ba’ath people. Many of them were naive reformers, doomed to eventual disillusionment, and they had their windbags who could do no more than parrot ritual calls for social justice; but among the party leaders there were able and determined men. When they said that they meant to nationalize all industry, I believed them. Later, no doubt, there would be some pragmatic compromises, and gray areas of collaboration between public and private sectors would appear; but in the main, I thought, they meant what they said. What was more, I believed that they were there to stay.
How best, then, to safeguard the interests of the Agence Howell?
I had, I considered, three options open to me. I could side with the resisters. I could temporize. Or I could explore the gray areas of future compromise and see what sort of a deal I could make.
Siding with the resisters meant, in effect, taking to the political woods and conspiring with those who would attempt to overthrow the new government. For a foreigner contemplating suicide this course might have had its attractions. For this foreigner it had none.
The temporizers, of whom there were many among my business acquaintances, seemed to me to have misjudged the new situation. Having observed with mounting weariness the political antics of the past decade, they tended to dismiss the nationalization of industry threat, with smiles and shrugs, as mere post-coup rhetoric. The banks? Well, the British and French banks had been sequestrated for years, hadn’t they? Nationalizing what was left had been an easy gesture to make. No, Michael, the thing to do now is sit tight and wait for the next counter-coup. Meanwhile, of course, we’ll have to keep our eyes open. When all this dust begins to settle a bit some of your new men will be coming out of it with their palms beginning to itch. They’ll be the ones to talk to about nationalization of industry. How can we pay them if they nationalize us, eh? Watch and wait, my boy, watch and wait. It’s the only way.
The temporizers, I thought, might be in for some surprises. I went my own way, exploring.
Obviously, yet another application to the Central Bank for the release of our blocked funds would fail unless I could apply some sort of leverage. Just as obviously, the only kind of lever that would work with the Central Bank would be one operated by its masters in the government. What I needed, then, was an endorsement of my application by a government department. It would have to be a high-level endorsement, too, preferably ministerial. What did I have to offer in exchange for such a thing?
At that point, the catch phrase, “If you can’t lick ‘em, join em,” came to mind. After that, once I had accepted the fact that I might do better working with the government people than by attempting artfully to outwit them, I made progress. The problem was then simplified. How could I join them in a way which would ultimately benefit us both?
I did a lot of thinking, some intensive market research, and formulated the plan.
In ‘63 I was not as used to negotiating with government officials as I am now. If I had been, I would not have given the proposition I was out to sell them even a fifty-fifty chance of success. Perhaps the fact that I was only thirty-two at the time, and consumed by the need to prove myself, helped. I was very aggressive in those days, too, and, I am afraid, given to finger-wagging exhortation when opposed.
My first encounter with the decision-making machinery in Damascus was a meeting with two bureaucrats, one from the Ministry of Finance, where the meeting took place, and one from the Ministry of Social Affairs and Commerce. They listened to me in silence, accepted copies of an aide-mémoire which summarized my proposals in veiled, but what I believed to be intriguing, terms, and indicated politely that they had other appointments.
A month went by before I was summoned by letter to a meeting at the Ministry of Social Affairs and Commerce. This meeting was in the office of a senior official to whom I had once been introduced at a Greek Embassy picnic. Also present were the two bureaucrats who had interviewed me before, and a younger man who was introduced as representing the recently created Department of Industrial Development. After the usual preliminary politenesses had been exchanged the senior officials invited this younger man to question me on the subject of my proposals.
His name was Hawa — Dr. Hawa.
My subsequent dealings with Dr. Hawa have been the subject of much misrepresentation. He himself has lately seen fit to assume the role of innocent betrayed, and to accuse me publicly of every crime from malfeasance to murder on the high seas. Under the circumstances it may be thought that no account I give of our relationship can be wholly objective.
I disagree. I have every intention of remaining objective. As far as I am concerned the only effect of his diatribes has been to relieve me of any lingering disposition to pull my punches.
Dr. Hawa is a thin, hard-faced man with tight lips and dark, angry eyes; obviously a tough customer, and particularly formidable when met for the first time. I remember that it was something of a relief to find that he was a chain-smoker; I knew then that he wasn’t as formidable as he appeared. Though we later became better acquainted I never discovered the academic discipline to which his doctorate belonged. I do know that he had a degree in law from the University of Damascus and that he later spent a year or two in the United States under a post-graduate student-exchange arrangement. There, I gather, he managed to pick up a Ph.D. from some easygoing academic institution in the Midwest. His English is fluent, with North American intonations. However, that first conversation was conducted mainly in Arabic with only occasional lapses into French and English.
“Mr. Howell, tell me about your company,” he began.
The tone was patronizing. I had noticed that he had a copy of my aide-mémoire on the table in front of him, so I nodded toward it “It is all there, Dr. Hawa.”
“No, Mr. Howell, it is not all there.” He flicked the papers disdainfully. “What is described there is a gambit, an opening move in which a small piece is sacrificed to secure a later advantage. We would like to know what game it is that we are being invited to play.”
I knew then that I would have to be careful with him. Chain-smoker he might be, but he was certainly no fool. If he had been English he would probably have described my aide-mémoire as a sprat to catch a mackerel, but gambit was also a pretty accurate description — too accurate for my liking. I looked at the senior official.
“What I had hoped for here, sir,” I said sternly, “was a serious discussion of serious proposals. I have no intention of playing any sort of game.”
“Dr. Hawa was speaking figuratively, of course.”
Hawa had a thin smile. “As Mr. Howell appears to be so sensitive I will put the matter another way.” He looked at me again. “You ask, Mr. Howell, for ministerial endorsement of an application for the release of blocked funds in order that they may be reinvested here. In return you undertake to confer on the state a number of economic blessings, the nature of which you hint at, but the value of which you leave to the imagination. More specifically, however, you offer to relinquish control of your remaining enterprises here, including a tannery and a flour mill, so that they may become cooperatives working under government auspices. Naturally we are curious about the spirit and temper of this strange gift horse, and about the business philosophy of the giver, the man who is seeking funds for reinvestment. So, I ask you to satisfy our curiosity.”