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Today Aramco employees wear no beards, but the company forbids their keeping dogs as pets, forbids their getting married in Saudi Arabia, and makes them get out of sight to hold Christian church services, which are officially outlawed.
Aramco has never forgotten that when Ibn Saud granted his concession to an American rather than a British company, he emphasized: "Americans get oil out of the ground and they stay out of politics." The company has gone to extremes to observe that precept. It never asks how the King spends his royalties, why he wants another advance; it doesn't argue against his expensive whims. It keeps out of the snarl of Arabian politics.
So far, its policy has paid off. Aramco's 440,000 square miles, the world's largest concession—an area greater than Texas and California combined—sits on a pool of oil already estimated at 15 billion barrels, or half the entire U.S. reserve. In 13 years since beginning production, Aramco has quietly moved to the top, is today the largest- sing'e oil-producing company in the world. It has marked up a fortyfold increase in output since 1944. Today more than 850,000 barrels gush daily from Aramco wells, an amount equal to one-eighth the oil used by the U.S., thirstiest of all oil consumers. And Aramco has only scratched the crust. Three Aramco fields are not even being exploited, because
Aramco already produces more than it can ship or pipe.
Before Aramco came, Ibn Saud's annual revenues averaged around $16 million (from pilgrims to Mecca and customs). In the past four years alone, Aramco has placed $300 million in royalties in his hands. The new 50-50 profit split (after taxes) negotiated late in 1950 has swollen his take; in 1951 it amounted to $125 million.
No Mid-East oil concessionaires have done more. From dousing Riyadh with DDT to building schools, to enticing Arab workers into saving (a revolution in a land where tomorrow was always Allah's concern), Aramco has been a model outfit.
No one pretends that the royalties it pays have been spent as wisely and as well as, say, Charles Belgrave and Sheik Sulman spent Bahrein's. Too many fancy new palaces, swimming pools and Cadillacs have appeared in Riyadh. But except by giving an example of how money wisely spent can improve Saudi Arabia, Aramco refuses to interfere.
"Why should we?" asked an Aramco executive. "We're a commercial company, operating in their country as guests and partners. Saudi Arabia is a sovereign country. It would be impertinence to tell them what to do."
Today, in spite of treading the straightest path possible, Aramco has still not won immunity from the fear of the future that since Iran nags every Mid-East oil company. Autocratic, 76-year-old Ibn Saud, its best friend, is declining fast. "What happens in Saudi Arabia," ask British critics, "when Ibn Saud dies and all these emirs start fighting over the spoils? You are going to have anarchy and you'll wish you had exercised control."