The Man Who Wouldn't Be King

Once he dreamed of going to Hollywood as the "Cambodian Charlie Chan."

Then he took up the saxophone and made like "Cannonball" Adderley, belting out such compositions of his own as Love Without Hope. He supported a troupe of 30 dancing girls and a string of 20 thoroughbreds and worked diligently to improve the breed. Sports are his latest craze. He captains a championship volleyball team and recently dunked in 92 points in a basketball game. Eccentric and mercurial he may be, but Cambodia's Prince Norodom Sihanouk, 41, is also one of the shrewdest leaders in South east Asia.

Sihanouk was Cambodia's young King until 1955, when he stepped down from the throne to run for elective office in the government, because the "true face of the people was hidden from me." Under his leadership, Cambodia has embarked on an ambitious program of development. Last year the rice crop was the best in memory, and a record exportable surplus of 400,000 tons was predicted. Cambodia does not have one riel of external debt, and its currency is 100% covered by gold and foreign exchange (v. 50% in the U.S.); 25% of the budget is spent on education, one of the highest percentages in the world.

"Socialist Majesties." But Cambodia, like many pleasant and languid places, is now beset by pressing economic problems. The planned $26 million deficit for this fiscal year has unexpectedly doubled, and the government is so short of cash that the current Five Year Plan is literally out of money. Some $24 million worth of public projects have had to be canceled, and foreign exchange reserves are dwindling at the rate of $1,500,000 a month.

Sihanouk's reaction was characteristically unpredictable; he purged his government of its oldtimers and installed in their places a group of his most fiery critics. They are youthful (average age: 36), leftwing, Paris-trained intellectuals whom Sihanouk sneeringly calls "their socialist majesties." Says Sihanouk: "I know that they do not like me. They hate me. They have always supported the Communists. Now I've given them the opportunity of supporting Cambodia for the first time. I told them, 'You can kill me, but you have no right to kill Cambodia.' "

What's Good for G. M. . . . Behind Sihanouk's odd choice of ministers is an adroit policy. With opponents in his very Cabinet, Sihanouk is able to keep an eye on his foes, and to force them to share blame for a worsening financial situation. He has allowed the Cabinet to slash government expenditures, but vetoed its proposal to nationalize the French rubber plantations, which are a prime source of foreign exchange. "The French might be capitalists," Sihanouk said, "but they are capable." He also delights in pointing out to his left-leaning intellectuals the failure of Cambodia's Red Chinese-built factories. "They only cost us money," Sihanouk says. "I tell my Cabinet that that's not what Ford or General Motors would do."

Though he deals roughly with Cambodia's native Communists, Sihanouk artfully refuses to join either the Communist or Western camps. Hoping to keep him neutral, the U.S. has weighed in with $220 million in economic aid since 1955 to this nation of 5,700,000 people, and Russia has built a 500-bed hospital and sent industrial equipment. Currently. Neutralist Sihanouk leans toward more Western influence in his country, for he feels that a counterbalance is needed against the rising strength of the Communists in Southeast Asia. But the main object of Sihanouk's policy is still to "maintain the joie de vivre of my people. I want them to work also, but not so hard as Communists. We Cambodians are not animals or machines. We have to remain gay and free. We must be allowed to have the good things."

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