The Levanter Part 4

It was understandable. Why should a metal-worker who had been his own master for years, and earned enough to support himself in the style that his father and grandfather before him had found acceptable, go to work in a government factory? Why should this craftsman be compelled to use unfamiliar tools, tools that didn't even belong to him, to produce unfamiliar objects of, for him, questionable virtue? You could argue, and I did until I was purple in the face, that in the government factory he would work only a fifty-hour week instead of the sixty-hour one he had been working on his own, and make more money into the bargain. You could talk about job-security. You could promise him overtime and bonus rates for bringing in apprentices. You could plead, you could cajole. The answer in most cases was still a slow, ruminative, maddening shake of the head.

In the end I had to take the problem to Dr Hawa. He solved it by putting through a regulation controlling the sale of non-ferrous metals such as copper and bra.s.s. Each buyer was given a quota based on his previous year's purchases. However, if he had kept no written records, no receipts for instance, to prove his case, he was in difficulty. He was ent.i.tled to appeal, of course; but, even if he was literate, he would find that part of the regulation hard to understand. He would need a lawyer. As the hazards, uncertainties and frustrations of self-employment thus became more evident, many of those who had previously shaken their heads eventually decided to reconsider.

That Dr Hawa should have been in a position to legalise this byzantine method of recruiting labour by coercion is aot as remarkable as it may appear. I have said that he found our agreement profitable from the first. Perhaps 'advantageous' would have been a better word. From the day we signed the final papers scarcely a week went by without some manifestation of what he called 'our public relations and information programme'. In practice this meant personal publicity for Dr Hawa. I don't know how he learned to perform his image-building tricks: clearly, most of them had been collected during those post-graduate years in the United States; but he performed them all with impressive ease. Teresa believes that he has a natural talent for self-advertis.e.m.e.nt of which he is only dimly aware, and that he works almost entirely by instinct. She may be right.

It was quite fascinating to watch him in action. On the day we took possession of the disused soap factory, a decrepit and rat-infested structure then, Dr Hawa suddenly appeared flourishing a large rolled-up blueprint-of what I never discovered-and, attended by photographers and journalists, proceeded to tour the premises. The photographs, which later appeared in the newspapers, of Dr Hawa pointing dramatically at the blueprint, and the accompanying stories extolling the dynamic yet modest personality of the Director of Industrial Development were most effective. He could make an occasion out of the most trivial happening. The arrival of a new piece of machinery, the rigging of a power line, the pouring of concrete for a workshop floor-if there was anything at all going on that could be photographed, Dr Hawa was there; and, when the photographs appeared, not only was he always in the foreground, but also quite obviously in direct charge of the operations. He had a way of pointing at something whenever he asked a question, and of keeping his head well back as he did so, that made it look all the time as if he were issuing orders. And, of course, before long ours were not the only such fish he had to fry. All the extravagant publicity given to our pilot projects had led several of the former temporisers to conclude, mistakenly, that I had been coining money while they had slept, and to leap hastily on to the cooperative bandwagon. Some of these ventures, notably a gla.s.s works, a galvanised-wire mill and a bottling plant producing an odd-tasting local imitation of Pepsi-Cola, were successful; and, of course, Dr Hawa got the credit.

In 1966, when all industry in Syria was nationalised, occasions for self-advertis.e.m.e.nt became even easier for him to contrive. His official position as development expert enabled him to poke his nose into practically anything, and be photographed doing so. The only opposition to his methods came from the Russians, who had their own ideas about the way the publicity for Soviet aid projects should be handled. Deference, not direction, was what they expected from Dr Hawa; they flourished their own blueprints. He conceded these defeats gracefully; he was as adaptable as he was ingenious. On the radio, and, later, on television he was astonishingly effective; very simple and very direct, an apolitical public servant, dedicated to the new but respectful of the old, whose only thought was for the betterment of the people.

n.o.body, then, was surprised when, with the announcement that the Department of Industrial Development was to be upgraded and to become a Ministry, came the news that the newly-created ministerial portfolio had been offered to and accepted by Dr Hawa. That he succeded in retaining it for so long, even through the turmoils and upheavals of the late 'sixties, was due to a combination of circ.u.mstances.

As an appendage of the more potent Ministries of Finance and Commerce and with little political or financial muscle of its own, Dr Hawa's Ministry could never provide the kind of operational base camp sought after by senior dissidents and would-be coup-makers. It controlled no deployable forces, armed or unarmed, and was outside the inner power sector of government. Its function had been defined by Hawa himself as essentially catalytic-a phrase of which he became increasingly fond as time went by-and the image which he projected of himself was that of the super-efficient specialist quietly doing his own job as only he knew how, and with eyes for n.o.body's else's. Never once did he attempt to display himself as a potential leader. He must have been tempted at times; men with his vanity, ambition and peculiar abilities are rarely able to set limits to their aspirations; but he was one of the exceptions. A threat to no one with the power to destroy him, he had accordingly survived.

Although I would have preferred someone lazier and less alert to deal with, I could have had worse taskmakers than Dr Hawa. It was clear, from the moment of his promotion, that ministerial office agreed with him. He seemed to smoke fewer cigarettes and was often quite relaxed and amiable. On occasion, over a game of backgammon and with a gla.s.s or two of my best brandy inside him, he would even make jokes that were not also gibes. Of course, he could still be unpleasant. When, for the first time, it became evident that the Howell companies abroad were beginning to make worthwhile profits out of the exclusive agencies granted to us under the agreement, I had to listen to bitter sarcasms and veiled threats. Naturally, I had figures to prove that on balance we were still well in the red; but he was invariably difficult about figures. His were always una.s.sailably accurate and complete; everyone else's were either irrelevant or cooked.

He had other quirks that made him hard to handle. For instance, you had to be careful with ideas for new projects. It was most dangerous to discuss a possible development with him unless you had already made up your mind that it was something you really wanted. If he liked a new idea he would seize upon it, and after that there was no escape. Almost before you were back in your office there would be a Ministry press release going out announcing the new wonder. From then on, whether you liked it or not, you were committed.

That, in fact, was how this whole miserable business over the dry batteries started. Dr Hawa forced me into it.

It was the same with the electronics project. Under an arrangement made by Dr Hawa's Ministry with a trade mission from the GDR, we had to set up a plant to a.s.semble electronic components manufactured in East Germany. We produced telecommunications equipment of various kinds, including highly-specialised stuff for the army, as well as small radio and television sets. They gave me an Iraqi manager who had received special training in East Germany to run the plant, but the whole set-up was wrong from our point of view. Being labour-intensive it was economically unsound anyway; and the military contracts, on which I had thought we might possibly have made money, were dished out to us on a cost plus basis which was ruinous. With the electronics it was all we could do to break even.

But the dry-battery project was much worse. That cost me more than money; that became a nightmare.

Don't misunderstand, please. I am not blaming Dr Hawa for everything that happened; I should have been quicker on my feet. What I am saying is that, far from having cunningly planned the battery operation, as some of those scavengers who call themselves reporters have hinted, I tried hard to stop it going forward, not only before it began but afterwards too.

The thing started purely by accident. It was the year after the Six-Day War with Israel.

All government ministries everywhere have to send out lots of pieces of paper; it is in the nature of the beasts. One of the pieces regularly sent out by the Ministry of Industrial Development was a list of bulk commodities held in government warehouses and available for purchase. Normally, the list was of no immediate business interest to me, but I used to glance at it sometimes, for old times' sake, to see what they were asking for tobacco. That was how I came to see this rather unusual item. In one of the Latakia warehouses there were sixty metric tons of manganese dioxide.

It gave me an idea. Although the ceramics factory was doing extremely well, with production and sales both going up nicely, our stocks, particularly of tile were building up a trifle faster than we could move them. I had been looking for other lines to manufacture so as to diversify a bit. This stuff in the warehouse suggested a possibility, I inquired about it.

Originally, I learned, it had been part of the mixed cargo of a Panamanian freighter out of Iskenderun in Turkey. South of Baniyas she had had engine trouble and a southwest gale had blown her aground on a bank near the Arab-el-Meulk light-buoy. Tugs from Latakia had pulled her off eventually, but only after some of the cargo, including the manganese dioxide, had been transhipped to lighten her. Later there had been a dispute over the tugmasters' salvage claims and she had sailed leaving the transhipped cargo impounded. The manganese dioxide wasn't all that valuable anyway, except possibly to me. I requested samples.

Hawa's spies were everywhere. Within hours of my making that request, his Chef de Bureau was on to me wanting to know what my interest in the material was. I said that it was hard to explain on the telephone and that, in any case, there was no point in trying to explain until I had received the samples and run tests. He said that he would await the results of the tests. A week later I was summoned to see the Minister. That didn't surprise me. I had long ago learned that, once his curiosity was aroused, Dr Hawa was quite incapable of delegating its satisfaction to an underling. However, the summons came while I was away in Alexandria straightening out some of our Egyptian problems. Teresa told the Chief de Bureau where I was, of course, and they made an appointment for me to see Hawa on the day of my return; but I was quite unprepared for the VIP treatment at the airport that Hawa had laid on.

That was the first time I had had it, and it scared me stiff. n.o.body could tell me what was going on, so naturally I a.s.sumed that I was under arrest. It wasn't until I was in the air-conditioned car and on the way to the Ministry that I began to get angry. I thought that this was Hawa's way of getting back at me for not being on instant call when he wanted to see me, and also of reminding me, in case I had forgotten, that he could control my comings and goings if he wished.

He was very affable when I was shown into his office.

'Ah, Michael, there you are. All quite safe and sound.' He waved me to a chair.

'Thank you, Minister.' I sat down. 'I am most grateful to you for the airport reception. It was unexpected but welcome.'

'We try to protect our friends.' He lit a cigarette. 'Doubtless you heard in Alexandria of our latest troubles. No? Ah well, it only happened last night. A civil airliner, European, destroyed by bombs at the airport. Israeli saboteurs, of course.'

'Of course.'

This was the ritual way of accounting for the bombings and other terrorist acts then being carried out by local Palestinian guerillas. These were splinter groups mostly, with Marxist and Maoist leanings, who, when they weren't plaguing the insufficiently cooperative Jordanian and Lebanese authorities across the frontier, busied themselves with provocations which could be blamed on the Israelis. Such activities also served notice on any of their Syrian 'brothers' who might be hankering after peace that they had better think again.

'Were they caught?' I asked.

'Unfortunately no. Time bombs were used. Our security forces don't yet seem to have learned the right lessons."

And they never would learn, of course. According to Mao, guerillas should move like fish in a friendly sea of people. If, in Syria, the sea was not all friendly, hostile currents were few. Those of the security services who did not actively a.s.sist the guerillas adopted an averted-eyes policy. The magic labels 'Palestine' and 'Palestinian' could transform the more brutish killer into a gallant young fighter for freedom, and, providing that he did not go too far too openly, he would be safe. Dr Hawa knew this as well as I did. Besides, no guerilla was going to blow up a Middle East Airlines plane even as a provocation. I still thought that he was using the bomb scares to get at me.

The coffee came in. 'However,' Dr Hawa went on, 'it is easy to be critical when one has not the responsibility. We must be patient. Meanwhile, as I say, we take precautions to protect our friends-especially those friends who are helping us to build for the future.' He gave me a whimsical smile. 'Would you like to take over the management of a tyre-retreading plant, Michael?'

'Thank you, Minister, no.' I smiled too. He had been getting at me.

This tyre thing was a rather bad standing-joke. The retreading cooperative had been the brainchild of an Armenian who had made his money out of crystallised fruit, and it had been a disaster. At least fifty percent of the retreads produced had proved defective, in some cases dangerously so. An accident involving a long-distance bus in which three people had been killed was known to have been caused by a blowout of one of these tyres. Hawa had had difficulty in hushing the story up, and was still looking for a face-saving way out of the mess. Although he well knew by now that I had no intention of providing it, he continued to ask the question. It was a way of letting me know that, while my refusal to do him that particular favour would not necessarily be held against me, it had by no means been forgotten.

'Then let us talk about this manganese dioxide.' He chuckled. 'I must say that when I heard of your interest I was puzzled. I know that you order strange chemicals to make your coloured glazes, but this was obviously exceptional. Sixty tons?'

This is not for a glaze, Minister. The idea was to use it to make Leclanche cells.'

'I don't think I understand.'

'The Leclanche is a primary cell, a rather primitive source of electrical energy. It has been largely superseded by the dry battery, though they both work on the same principle. The Leclanche is a wet battery and a bit c.u.mbersome, but it has its uses.'

'Such as what?'

'Many things that a dry battery can do - ring door bells or buzzers, work concierge locks, power internal telephone circuits and so on. They have the advantages of long life and low initial cost.'

He was nodding thoughtfully, a faraway look in his eyes. 'A primary source of electrical energy,' he said slowly.

He made it sound like the Aswan High Dam. His ability instantly to scramble a sober statement of fact into a misleading PR fiction was extraordinary.

'The point is,' I said, 'that it is a very simple thing. The cathodes consists of a porous ceramic pot, which we could easily make, packed with manganese dioxide and carbon around a carbon plate. The anode is a zinc rod. The two of them stand in a jar, usually gla.s.s, but we could make it of glazed earthenware. The electrolyte is a solution of ammonium chloride, a very cheap material, in ordinary tap water. The zinc we would have to buy abroad but the rest of it we could manage ourselves - that is, if this manganese dioxide is all right.' 'What could be wrong with it?'

'For one thing it could have been contaminated with sea water. That is why I asked for samples to test.'

He opened a drawer in his desk and took out a small jar. 'In your absence,' he said, 'I also asked for samples and had tests made. I am told that it is the standard pulverised ore, probably from the Caucasus, with only the usual minor impurities. With sixty tons how many of these batteries could you make?'

'More than I could sell probably, tens of thousands.'

'But here we could create the demand?'

'By cutting down on the imports of certain sizes of dry battery, yes.'

'You said that the principle of this battery is the same as that of the dry battery. Why could we not make dry batteries ourselves?'

'I would have to have notice of that question, Minister. Dry batteries are ma.s.s-produced by the billions nowadays in j.a.pan, America and Europe. I can investigate, of course. But the battery I am talking about can be made in the ceramics factory. We would need an extra shed or two and a few men under a charge hand to do the work, but that is all. No big capital expenditure, and something useful produced with our own resources.'

'Dry batteries are labelled. Could we label these batteries?'

'Yes, we could,' I did not add that labels stuck on glazed jars very quickly come unstuck, because I knew what was bothering him. Few of the products we made carried any sort of advertis.e.m.e.nt. For a man with his taste for publicity it must have been very frustrating.

'The labels should be highly coloured,' he said; 'and we should have a brand name. I will think about it.'

The brand name he eventually decided upon was 'Green Circle'.

During the next two years we made over twenty thousand Leclanche cells bearing the Green Circle label, and managed to dispose of most of them at a decent profit. In the Yemen and Somalia we did particularly well with them. As a sideline for the ceramics factory they had been useful.

If I had been able to leave it at that all would have been well. Unfortunately, Dr Hawa was by then no longer interested in sidelines, however useful. Now he wanted the more ambitious kind of project which could be used to dress up the monthly reports which his Ministry issued; reports designed to show that the pace of development was continually accelerating and to confound his critics, who were becoming vocal, with evidence of fresh miracles to come. The truth was that too much had been promised too publicly, and now he was having to pay the penalty. Dr Hawa was beginning to slip.

He never even consulted me about the feasibility of the dry battery project. He had one of his minions do some hasty research on the manufacturing processes involved. The minion, who cannot have done much more than browse through an out-of-date text book, reported back that the processes were simple, the necessary materials in good supply and that, with good management and some unskilled female labour, the thing could be done.

That was enough for Hawa. He announced the new project the following morning and handed it over to me in the afternoon. He didn't ask me if I would accept it; those days were over. I was a.s.signed the project, and if I didn't like it-well, a private company under contract to a government agency was always vulnerable unless protected by its friends. For example, the Ministry of Finance had often pressed for the cancellation of those exclusive selling agencies granted to the company so long ago. So far these pressures had been resisted and the company's interests protected; but such protection must be earned.

I could not even argue that the information on which he had based his decision was false. Manufacturing dry batteries can be a simple business; but only if you are prepared to use the manufacturing methods employed fifty years ago, and to accept along with them the kind of battery they produced and the cost of its production. I tried to explain this to him, but he would not listen.

'The difficulties,' he said idiotically, 'are for you to overcome. Knowing you, Michael, I am sure they will be overcome.'

It is easy to say now that I would have done better to have refused him there and then and taken the financial consequences. As my mother pointed out, our net profits from the Syrian export operation at that stage amounted to over seventy percent of the original blocked funds. That, in her opinion, was better than anyone had thought possible. None of the shareholders would have thought ill of me if I had chosen to cut our losses at that point and get out; they were only too grateful for what had been accomplished to date.

She had some less pleasant things to say, too, of course. She even went as far as to suggest that the real reason for my going ahead with the dry battery project was not my reluctance to abandon some profitable lines of business, but my unwillingness to give up what she called 'that cinq-a-sept affair of yours' with Teresa.

That was utterly absurd, and only the acid-tongued mother of my children could have put such an idea into my own mother's head. The truth is, and Teresa herself can vouch for this because I discussed the whole problem with her that same night-not between cinq and sept, by the way, as those are office hours with me-the truth is that I did seriously consider pulling out at the time. I didn't do so, firstly because it was the obvious and easy thing to do and, secondly, because I thought there might be a way around the situation. That way, the only one that I could see, was to go through the motions of setting up a dry battery pilot and give Hawa a practical demonstration of the total im practicability of what he had proposed. Then, when the time came for him to accept defeat, I would have already planned for him a face-saving alternative project. I still say I did the right thing. How was I to know about Issa and his friends?

When I said that we would go through the motions of setting up the pilot project, I didn't mean that we weren't going to try to do our best. After all, on the pilot projects it was always Howell money that was being spent. I expected failure, yes; but the kind of failure I expected was the commercial kind you normally a.s.sociate with attempts to sell a technologically obsolete product at an uncompet.i.tive price in a highly compet.i.tive market. What I had not bargained for, and was not prepared to submit to, was the humiliation of being responsible for the manufacture of a product which was not only antiquated but also hopelessly inferior in quality by any standards, old or new. Even the tyre-retreading bunglers at their worst had managed to get their product right fifty percent of the time. With the first lot of batteries we turned out our percentage of success hovered around the twenty mark. While we didn't actually kill anybody with our product, as the retread people had, we certainly did a lot of damage. The trouble with a dry battery is that, except on the outside, it isn't really dry. Inside it is moist, and this moisture, the electrolyte, is highly corrosive. For a variety of reasons, foremost among which were my carelessness and inexperience, our batteries tended to leak as soon as you started to use them and very soon went dead. The leaking was the worst defect. Just one leaking battery, even a little penlight cell, can ruin a transistor radio. With the local radio dealers the Green Ckcle label and the product it enclosed soon became anathema. It was the subject of much angry laughter and the cause of many shrill disputes.

Something had to be done quickly. The Howell reputation was at stake and my own self-confidence had taken a beating. After an exceedingly unpleasant session with Hawa, I secured his agreement to my withdrawing all unsold stocks from the dealers. I also stopped production and did the quality-control research that I had neglected to do before we started. Most of this work concerned the zinc containers. These were formed on jigs and had soldered seams. Obviously, faulty soldering would cause leaks, but the chief problem was with chemical impurities. For example, zinc sheeting of a quality that could be used for covering a roof would not necessarily do for battery production. Certain impurities, even in very small amounts, would, in contact with the electrolyte, start up a chemical reaction. The result was that the zinc became porous. The same was true of the solder used on the seams. In future, all materials used would have to be checked out chemically before we accepted them from the suppliers.

I worked out a series of standard tests for each material. Then I had to find someone to carry out the tests. As usual, trained and even semi-trained manpower was in short supply. I knew I wasn't going to be able to hire a qualified chemist; in fact, I didn't need one. I had already done the necessary elementary chemistry, and the actual testing would be routine work; but I did need someone with sufficient laboratory experience to carry out the routine procedures faithfully and without botching them.

That was how I came to employ Issa.

He was a Jordanian, a refugee from the West Bank territory who had come north with his family after the war, first to the UNWRA camp at Der'a, then to live with relatives in Quatana. He was in his mid-twenties, a drop-out from the Muslim Educational College in Amman where he had received some schooling in inorganic chemistry. More important for me, he had worked part-time as a lab a.s.sistant during his second year at the College.

I found him through a department in the Ministry which had started, or was trying to start, a technical training programme. Representing himself as a science graduate, Issa had applied to them for a job as an instructor. In the absence of any papers to support his claim to graduate qualifications -he told them that they had been lost when the family fled from the Israelis-the Ministry took the precaution of writing to Amman for confirmation. When the truth had been established they referred him to me.

On first acquaintance he seemed a rather intense young man who took himself very seriously and had a lot of personal dignity. Later, I found him quick to learn, intelligent and hard-working. The fact that he had previously lied about his qualifications should, I suppose, have prejudiced me against him, or at least made me wary. It did neither. He was, after all, a refugee; one had to make allowances. If, in his eagerness to better himself and make the most of his intelligence, he had gone too far, well, he could be excused. The lie had done no one any harm.

When we started production again I gave him a small wage increase and made him responsible for ordering the battery project raw material supplies as well as checking them. It seemed a reasonable thing to do at the time.

Until that afternoon in May, the idea that the punctilious, hard-working Issa might have other, less desirable qualities of mind and character had never once crossed my mind. And, as I have said, even that first warning signal-Teresa's news about the alcohol orders - didn't really register.

Naturally, the conclusion I immediately jumped to-that Issa had been carrying on a private bootlegging business at my expense-wasn't exactly welcome; but until I had questioned him on the subject there was nothing to be done. He might have a perfectly innocent explanation to offer. I couldn't imagine what that might be, but the matter could, and would have to, wait.

As I drove to the Ministry that afternoon I had pleasanter things to think about; for this was a moment I had been looking forward to for months. This was showdown time forDr Hawa.It I played my hand properly the dry battery project would soon be no more than a disagreeable memory.

Before leaving for Italy I had prepared the ground carefully by sending him a statement of the financial position of the dry battery project. Along with this profoundly depressing doc.u.ment, however, I had sent a cheerful little covering letter saying that I hoped, on my return, to be able to submit proposals for saving the entire situation.

As the situation was patently catastrophic, this promise of good news to come would, I thought, soften him up a little. The drowning man offered a line does not much care, when it arrives, whether the hempen rope he had been expecting turns out to be made of nylon. Although it would have been a gross exaggeration to describeDr Hawa'spolitical difficulties at the time as those of a drowning man, he was certainly floundering a little and in need of additional buoyancy.

His first words to me after the coffee had been brought in suggested that I had overdone the softening-up process.

'Michael, you have failed me,' he said mournfully.

This would not do. In his pity-me mood, which I had encountered once or twice before, he wouldn't have bought IBM at par. I wanted him braced in his embattled PR-warrior stance, beady-eyed and looking for openings. I took the necessary steps.

'Minister, we have made some rectifiable errors, that is all.'

'But these figures you sent me!' He had them there on his desk, sprinkled with cigarette ash.

'The obituary notice of an unsuccessful experiment which may now be forgotten.'

'Forgotten! ' That stung him all right. 'Forgotten by whom, may I ask? The public? The press?'

'Only by you and me, Minister. For the public and the press there will be nothing to forget. The battery project will go forward.'

'On the basis of these figures? You expect the Ministry of Finance to fund the project when all we have to show them is this miserable record?'

'Of course not. But if you will recall our original conversation on the subject of dry batteries, the feasibility of the project was always in question. What I have in mind now is the rectification of an original error.'

'Which error? There have been so many.'

The error of making primary batteries. We should have made secondary batteries.'

'What are you talking about? Batteries are batteries. Please come to the point, Michael.'

'With respect, Minister, that is the point. Secondary batteries are rechargeable storage batteries, the kind you have in cars and buses.'

'But. . . .'

'Please, Minister, allow me to explain. I propose that the battery project should go ahead, but that we phase out the dry battery operation and change over to the manufacture of storage batteries.'

'But the two things are totally different!"

'They are indeed, but they are both called batteries. That is the essential point. We should not be abandoning the announced battery project, only redirecting it along a more profitable path. As for the changeover, I have had exploratory talks in Milan with a firm of car accessory manufacturers. They are willing to send us experienced technicians to train our own people and help us to set up an efficient plant for making storage batteries here.'

'But that means another pilot project.'

'No, Minister, not this time. You cannot make these things on a pilot scale. That is one reason for our present failure. This would have to be a full scale operation from the start. That means a joint-venture arrangement between the Italian company and your agency.'

'But why should they be willing to do this? Why should they help us? What do they get out of it?'

I knew then that I had him.

'They have no outlet for their products in the Middle East at present. The West Germans and the British have most of the market. They were looking for a way in and came to me.' That was not quite true; I had approached them; but it sounded better the other way. 'I advised them to manufacture here and take advantage of low labour costs and the favourable UAR tariffs.'

'But it would be their product they would be making and selling.'

'They are willing to put it out here under our Green Circle trademark.'

That clinched it; but, of course, he did not give way immediately. There were doubts to be a.s.suaged about the plant's value to the economy. The standard complaint was made that all the raw materials would have to be imported and that, as usual, money and cheap labour was all that was being asked of poor Syria. I countered with a question.

'Minister, when will the new plastics factory which has been promised be going into production?'