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The Generous Americans. So far the American invasion numbers 4,000 construction workers and 3,000 blue-uniformed airmen. Thirty-ton earth loaders, compactors and asphalt layers are changing the landscape, within sight of Arab and Berber shepherds who tend their flocks and think their own thoughts. The French administration welcomes the advent of U.S. capital and enterprise, but insists on keeping local wages down to check inflation. Many French bureaucrats, businessmen, speculators and colons (plantation owners) grumble that the generous, kindly Americans will spoil the inhabitants.
French Morocco, rich in minerals and water power, is one of the handsomest and, in the north, one of the most fertile territories in all Islam. In the spring, parts of the country are as green as England. It is a land with three capitals: Rabat, the seat of government; Casablanca, the main seaport and business center; Fez, the religious and cultural capital. The population of 9,000,000 includes 4,500,000 Moorish Arabs, 4,000,000 Berbers, 350,000 French. The Berbers, bigger and blonder than the Arabs, are Moslems but they have their own language, and their religion permits them to eat wild pigs and drink alcoholic beverages. Headed by the foxy old Pasha of Marrakech, the Berbers are much more friendly to the French than are the Arabs. The French count heavily on them in case of trouble.
Since 1912, French Morocco has been a "protectorate" (a colony in everything but name). The nominal ruler is the Sultan, a descendant of the Prophet, who has fluorescent lights in his palace at Rabat. Actually, however, the French administrator (who is tactfully called the Resident General and not the governor) dictates Morocco's laws and handles its foreign policy.
The man who sits in the Résidence Générale at Rabat today is General Augustin Léon Guillaume, 56, a forthright and plain-spoken man with a brilliant military record in two world wars. A doctor's son from the Alps, Guillaume speaks Italian, German, Russian, Serbo-Croatian, Moorish Arabic, Berber; he was a close friend of the late Marshal de Lattre de Tassigny, hero of Indo-China.
Big Profits, Low Taxes. In 40 years, French enterprise and enthusiasm have done a great deal to improve and modernize Morocco. Hydroelectric plants are already irrigating a million acres. The French have crisscrossed the land with 27,000 miles of roads. In, brawling Casablanca, where dozens of new hotels, office buildings and apartments went up last year, the skyline changes almost daily. Four decades ago, Casablanca was a squalid Oriental port of 20,000 people. Today the population is 600,000. Last year ships spent a total of 4,000 days waiting for berths at Casa's crowded docks.
Casablanca is a fine place for freewheeling French businessmen: profits are big, taxes low. No one there seriously considers the need or desirability of turning the country over to the Moroccans, or giving them autonomy. Even the late Marshal Lyautey, who had a wonderful knack for getting along with Moors, seemed to think that Morocco would stay peaceably in French hands forever. Belatedly, a school for native administrators has been started, but turns out only 60 men a year.