BELGIUM: Big Man

(See Cover)

In the middle of the troubled desert that is Europe today, a scene like a mirage confronts the traveler thirsty for freedom, hope and a decent glass of beer. An hour and a half by plane from pinched and drawn London, a day by train from harrowed, hungry Berlin, he suddenly finds freedom, hope and a very decent glass of rich, light beer—the biggest glass of beer in Europe for 15¢.

He also finds steaks, Nylons, chocolates, cigars, soap, butter, evening gowns, whipped cream. He finds everything, including champagne (to stimulate the evening) and aspirin (to soothe the morning after). The neon signs advertising these wares match Times Square's own fireworks. Shiny Buicks and Studebakers roll along tree-lined boulevards amid scents of spring and U.S. gasoline. The scene is no mirage. It is Brussels, 1948.

The scene is repeated, somewhat more quietly, in proud, sober Ghent and in Bruges, lulled by its gentle chimes, in bustling, muscular Antwerp, in Liège under its pall of soot from the mines and the blast furnaces. Belgium has quietly achieved an almost incredible state: postwar prosperity. What is more, Belgium has largely done it by free enterprise. Or "planned freedom," as Belgians call it.

Good Sense. Belgium's achievement is enough to make a lot of economists throw in the slide rule in disgust. To the austeritarian school (prevalent in Europe and some U.S. quarters), prosperity, like chivalry, is an archaic notion, something that apple sellers in the '30s expected just around the corner. And even a good many plain Americans have agreed that free enterprise, if not downright immoral, is at least impractical in Europe today. Yet Belgium, like a healthy old chain-smoker defying the anti-nicotine prophets, is both prosperous and free.

In Brussels last week, the man who, as much as any single individual, is responsible for this state of affairs told how it had come about. He is Paul-Henri Spaak, Premier of Belgium. With his cherubic frown, his bulging forehead, his pugnacious lower lip, he bears a startling resemblance to Winston Churchill; in the whole grey and sagging circle of European leaders, he is one of the few men with a spark of Churchillian fire. With one hand thrust truculently into his trouser pocket, he uses the other to tick off the reasons for Belgian prosperity.

For one thing, Belgium suffered relatively little damage during the Nazi occupation. The Belgian Congo had remained untouched, as had the country's foreign financial assets. Belgian industry kept working (on German orders) throughout the war. The country was quickly liberated, and its industry went to work for the Allies. All that was luck. But there was more to it. "Good sense," says Spaak, "knows how to make use of good luck."