On 19 December the new team arrived in Algiers; Delouvrier, the “Delegate-General” (a less imposing title than “governor-general” to show a break with the past) was clad conspicuously in civilian clothes, carrying a black “Anthony Eden” hat; Challe, in uniform, walked equally conspicuously one or two paces to the rear. It was a symbolic demonstration of the civil over the military, of Paris over Algiers. De Gaulle had at least made this point forcefully and clearly. Delouvrier’s first words sounded equally purposeful: “La France reste….” But the welcome accorded by the pieds noirs was barely less cool and mistrustful than it had been for Lacoste and Soustelle before him.
Preoccupations in France
Less readily visible to the army and pieds noirs alike in Algeria was one fundamental reason for de Gaulle’s dilatoriness in formulating an Algerian policy: his preoccupation with the Augean stables in France herself. The Gaullist programme called for the most thorough overhaul of France’s whole political system, economy and finances—left in a critical tangle by previous governments of the Fourth Republic—and her foreign relations and alliances. In fact, there were few fronts on which de Gaulle was not attacking with vigour and dedication in his first six plenipotential months. First and foremost there was the new constitution, involving a mountainous work of drafting and consultation. “I considered it necessary”, declared de Gaulle, “for the government to derive not from parliament, in other words from the parties, but, over and above them, from a leader directly mandated by the nation as a whole and empowered to choose, to decide and to act”. The executive would emerge immeasurably strengthened, with many of the weaknesses that had been the undoing of the Third and Fourth Republics purged from the body politic. Well before the triumphant result of the Constitutional Referendum it was abundantly clear that henceforth France was now going to be ruled, and her voice heard abroad. Already in mid-September de Gaulle was writing to Eisenhower and Macmillan, informing them that N.A.T.O. “was no longer adapted to the needs of our defence…the alliance should henceforth be placed under a triple rather than a dual direction, failing which France would take no further part”. In equally brutal language he was soon torpedoing Macmillan’s hopes for a Free Trade Area in Europe; while to his intimates he was revealing his ambitions to create a truly modern army at the earliest opportunity: “As soon as the Algerian war is ended, I shall form five atomic divisions….”
After the uncertainties of the last days of the Fourth Republic, and the real fears of May, the new authority and majesty of de Gaulle had the most immediate and galvanising effect upon the French nation at large; the full quality of which effect one tends to forget even at this short distance in time. On his first official visit to Paris in June, Macmillan noted already how the large crowds “all seemed very relaxed and in a most friendly mood…I have never seen a French crowd cheer in such a friendly way…everyone is confident that the General’s policy will succeed. No one knows what it will be—all the same it commands general confidence”. The coming of de Gaulle was suddenly seen to liberate one of those surges of the immense reservoir of energy that characterises the French nation, and her truly staggering moral as well as material regeneration now began. Some of the eternal aspects continued unchanged; after countless man-hours of deliberation, the Académie announced that it was changing the sex of the automobile. But as Janet Flanner observed in October, “the Western democratic peoples now eye France with real hope for the first time since November, 1945”. Vast new building complexes (not always felicitous in style) began to spring up; by August 1959 Miss Flanner was recording, “This year, Paris has visibly built itself into the middle of the twentieth century at last.” It was one of the tangible signs of the beginning of the Gaullist economic “miracle”—even though, admittedly, the groundwork for it had been laid much earlier. Henceforth France was on the road to recovery; maddening to her friends, destructive of the Atlantic Alliance but on the other hand laying the foundation for the astonishing prosperity and stability of the 1970s.
In November 1958 de Gaulle followed up his referendum triumph with a major success at the elections for the Assembly; it was a grave defeat for the Left, with the Communist deputies reduced from 145 to a mere ten. In January 1959 de Gaulle took office as President, welcomed to the Elysée by the outgoing President Coty with the dignified words: “The first of Frenchmen is now the first man in France.” Then, says de Gaulle, “hence-forth the prisoner of my high duty, I heard all the doors of the palace closing behind me”.
The first year: credit and debit
As the first anniversary of May 1958 approached, de Gaulle could look back on a number of successes, one or two half-successes, and one major setback. In the summer of 1958 Raymond Aron had predicted “The revolution of May could be the beginning of the political renovation of France on the condition that it hastens to devour its children.” By purging the army in Algeria and clearing the decks there of the Committee of Public Safety which had brought him to power, de Gaulle had achieved just that. He had given France the new constitution he wanted, had established his own authority to a degree that would have seemed beyond the realms of possibility in May 1958, and had seemed to establish around his person much of the best talent in France. He had prevailed with the economic programme he wanted; though not, unfortunately, with the kind of lasting trade union support that he sought. In Algeria he had the pieds noirs at least temporarily under control. But as far as peace was concerned only disappointment could be recorded. His first attempt to obtain a cease-fire had been rejected with a crushing snub by the F.L.N. and the November elections had not led to the emergence of any tangible “third force” of interlocuteurs valables. Thus everything was at an impasse, and would remain so for the best part of the ensuing year. And, as well as that initial momentum, he had lost time that was irretrievable. Summing up on his first five months of power, Cyrus L. Sulzberger of the New York Times remarked, “General de Gaulle has put on the most dazzling virtuoso performance since another Frenchman, called Blondin, walked across Niagara Falls on a tight-rope just ninety-nine years ago.” There was no disputing what a breathtaking feat it had been; but in the Algerian context a disquieting impression lingered that de Gaulle was left still balancing on his tight-rope above the middle of the falls.
[1] The slogan of “fifty-five million” was based upon obsolete figures for all the inhabitants of France and Algeria, by now nearer sixty million.
[2] It was, according to his close associate, Bernard Tricot, the white flag of truce, not of capitulation, that de Gaulle had in mind—a subtle difference not appreciated by the F.L.N. any more than it had been by the Écho d’Alger.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The F.L.N. Holds its Breath:
May 1958–May 1959
The events of 13 May 1958…changed the spirit of the struggle in one camp, and made the other hold its breath.
Philippe Tripier
The shock of de Gaulle: low ebb for the F.L.N.
Algerian leaders who survived the war do not always agree in their analysis of the decisive moments or the turning-points, on the “ifs” or the “might have beens”. But in answer to the leading question repeatedly asked by the author, “What was the most dangerous period in the war for you?” they tend to show an unusual degree of unanimity. It was the time immediately following 13 May, and the first weeks of de Gaulle. On the fighting front the A.L.N. was already reeling from heavy casualties suffered to little advantage on the Morice Line during the spring attacks of 1958. The political disarray in France was looked upon at first as a heaven-sent opportunity to relieve the military pressure. Attempting to exploit this, the A.L.N. stepped up the tempo of operations, inflicting in the week of 13 May alone unprecedented heavy casualties of 300 dead and wounded, among the dead being the renowned para leader, Colonel Jeanpierre, who had escaped with wounds during the hunting down of Yacef. But at the same time the A.L.N.’s losses had been twice that number, and in trained djounoud it could ill spare. Morale among the
combatants in some units was shakier than it had perhaps ever been; following the mysterious “liquidation” of Ramdane Abane, the atmosphere in the higher echelons of the C.C.E. was far from happy; inside the country war-weariness, ever latent, showed signs of taking a greater hold as the “exterior” proved increasingly incapable of supplying the “interior” with the arms it so badly needed. There was more talk about a “compromise” peace, and as morale waned within so did enthusiasm among the Muslim “brothers” abroad upon whom the F.L.N. relied for arms and support.
Then, suddenly, there occurred the extraordinary phenomenon of the “fraternisation” of 16 May; rigged in part by the Cinquième Bureau but also deeply and disturbingly symptomatic of the hope that the mere name of de Gaulle could inspire in the breast of many a simple, peace-craving Algerian. And immediately de Gaulle had begun talking about true “equality” within the French republic and the end of second-class citizenry, words that from his mouth alone sounded true and meaningful. If de Gaulle were to follow this up with a massive appeal to the battered, disillusioned but still extant “third force” of Muslims, then this could only present the F.L.N. with the gravest menace to its prestige and war aims. As François Mauriac (no disciple of Algérie française) had rejoiced after the 16 May demonstrations, they offered “a psychological and moral basis for the accords and arrangements of tomorrow, a basis infinitely better than that of battles and ambushes”. But to the F.L.N. it was a basis of pure danger. There was also a second threat: that France, reunited and reinvigorated by de Gaulle, would be enabled to prosecute the war with that much greater determination and efficacy. Taken by surprise by the events of May, for the F.L.N. all was dark confusion, and momentarily it adopted the wise posture of the low profile. A counterattack, however, had to be mounted before de Gaulle could pull off single-handed a triumph in his referendum announced for September.
Countermoves: the G.P.R.A. formed
Towards the end of June the veteran Kabyle maquisard, Colonel Omar Ouamrane, addressed a secret memorandum to each member of the C.C.E. separately. “The hour is grave,” he began; the military situation was worrying; the revolution was losing way: “The revolutionary spirit has disappeared among leaders, officers and militants alike, to give way to bourgeoisification, bureaucracy and opportunism.” To regain the initiative that had passed to de Gaulle, and before his regime had time to consolidate itself, Ouamrane urged: the speedy proclamation of a provisional Algerian government; a new diplomatic offensive to take full advantage of East-West rivalry in the Cold War; the launching of a “second front” of terrorism inside metropolitan France itself. Ouamrane’s memorandum fell upon fertile ground. Ferhat Abbas expressed strongly to Krim the view that Abane’s death had left a blot on the C.C.E. which could only be expunged if it were dissolved and swallowed up in the wider framework of a properly constituted government. Certainly in recent months the C.C.E. had shown itself less and less effective in directing the revolution, while a government-in-exile could exert more authority and prestige; but, above all, on the international scene it would strike a major propaganda blow against the blandishments of de Gaulle. There was some heated discussion, notably about personalities and posts in the new regime, with Krim pressing his prerogative—as sole survivor present of the neuf historiques—to assume the leading role. But on 9 September, in Cairo, the principle and structure of a government-in-exile had been agreed. Ten days later, also in Cairo, a massive Press conference was called to announce the creation of the Provisional Government of the Republic of Algeria (G.P.R.A.). From the chair, Ferhat Abbas (speaking, significantly, in French) declared that the new government would assume its duties from 13.00 hours on that same day, “the 1,416th day of the revolution”. Similar solemn ceremonies were held in both Tunis, which had been chosen as the G.P.R.A.’s capital, and Rabat.
Instead of the militant maquisard Krim, the mantle of first president of the G.P.R.A. fell upon Ferhat Abbas, the pharmacist from Sétif and former leader of the moderate U.D.M.A. nationalists, francophone and francophile, suavely courteous, the voice of sweet reason and compromise itself. It was a shrewd though somewhat cynical choice in that Abbas would soon prove to have been appointed for little more than window-dressing. Among the fourteen ministers also nominated, Krim was permitted to continue his C.C.E. function as Minister for the Armed Forces, and was also made a vice-president as a sop to his pride. Equally tactful was the appointment to vice-president of Ben Bella, while he and all his imprisoned comrades were made “ministers of state” in absentia. The former M.T.L.D. leader Dr Lamine Debaghine, became Foreign Minister; Ben Tobbal, Minister of the Interior; Boussouf, Minister of Communications (which also gave him the key role of running intelligence services); Yazid (who had been so successful in New York), Minister of Information; and Ben Khedda, another former member of Messali’s M.T.L.D. assumed the function of Minister of Social Affairs. In effect, the key positions of power still remained in the hands of the “three Bs”, Belkacem Krim, Boussouf and Ben Tobbal—the men who had brought about the downfall of Abane. The only conspicuous absentee from the new line-up was the man whose memorandum had mooted the idea of creating the G.P.R.A., Colonel Ouamrane, apparently dropped on the grounds of being a political “light-weight” and too intolerant of politicians.
The nations of the Arab world hastened to recognise the new government, though Nasser did so concealing much ill-humour at the fact of not having been consulted about the move, and at the G.P.R.A.’s choice of Tunis, rather than Cairo, for their “capital”. China and other countries of the Communist bloc followed suit, but Khrushchev’s U.S.S.R. remained annoyingly aloof, it being the Russian leader’s evident, and excellent, calculation that by not upsetting de Gaulle more mileage could be made in the disruption of the Western Alliance than could be gained in recognising the G.P.R.A. As with past Russian snubs, it was a stance the Algerians would not forget in a hurry. The United States and Britain both played an ambivalent hand, not recognising the G.P.R.A., nor supporting French policy in Algeria, an attitude which was enough to mortify and alienate de Gaulle.
As it had done all the way from November 1954, through the Soummam Conference of 1956, and regardless of all personal conflicts and schisms, the F.L.N. kept its aims fundamentally unaltered with the creation of the G.P.R.A. With Abbas as the frontispiece, however, a new and seductive appearance of flexibility and softness of approach temporarily cloaked the G.P.R.A. In an interview with the journalist Artur Rosenberg, widely quoted in the West German Press in October, Abbas suggested that the F.L.N. might be prepared to waive its demand for instant recognition of independence as a sine qua non condition for any peace talks, which in the past had proved such an unbridgeable obstacle. Meanwhile, a new diplomatic offensive led to a considerable stepping-up of the already successful activities of the astute Chanderli and Yazid in New York and at the United Nations; and in December 1958 Ben Khedda led the first Algerian delegation to China. The Algerians were greeted with the greatest warmth in Peking, but with slightly less in Moscow on the return journey. The visit to China, as Ben Khedda told the author, was “of utmost importance, less because of the arms it brought than because of its psychological effect on the combatants—which was immense at that time”. The threat of an outflanking entente between the F.L.N. and Moscow and Peking would also, it was calculated, alarm de Gaulle considerably. Thus, as hoped by the F.L.N., the creation of the G.P.R.A. and its accompanying diplomatic offensive made the maximum impact abroad, while helping steal some thunder from de Gaulle’s referendum where a massive landslide of “ouis” had indeed confronted the F.L.N. with an undisguisable reverse.
Terrorist offensive in France
Hand in hand with all this went a new offensive of terrorism, launched as soon as the F.L.N. had regained its breath after the events of May. It had been presaged by El Moudjahid in its issue of 13 June 1958, which had singled out de Gaulle’s remarks praising the French army for a particularly savage attack: “These words will remain engraved in l
etters of fire on the heart of each Algerian man and woman. Never before has French cynicism been displayed with such impudence…the torturers of the Algerian people have been travestied as heroes and magicians….” In another issue of the same week it published a directive ordering an intensification of terrorism throughout Algeria. In Algiers, peaceful for so many months now, a grenade thrown into a café on 20 June claimed nineteen civilian victims, of whom seventeen were Muslims. During July incidents rose to 2,024 compared with the June total of 1,585 and in one week alone there were eighty-one assassination attempts—principally against Muslims as part of the F.L.N.’s vigorous drive to deter them from voting in the forthcoming referendum and elections. A general strike invoked for 5 July, the anniversary of the French Occupation of 1830, proved a signal failure, but in September incidents had again risen to 2,368. By January 1959 terrorist attacks were still running at a frequency of some fifty per week, and during the ensuing year no less than 148 municipal councillors were assassinated.
But it was in the mother country that the F.L.N.—similarly to the I.R.A. in times of maximum stress in the 1970s—now concentrated its terrorist activities. Between 24 August and 28 September there were 181 attacks on property and 242 against people, causing eighty-two deaths and injuring another 168. Many were Algerians belonging to the M.N.A. or other dissident groups; Janet Flanner recalled the sight of an Algerian dying in a pool of blood outside the fashionable Brasserie Lipp, while a Parisian flower-vendor looked on, quite unmoved. For the first time the networks set up by Lebjaoui and taken over by Boudaoud turned their attention to specifically French targets. The night of 24 August was like a repeat of All Saints, 1954. Across the breadth of France a miscellany of blows was struck: a train derailed near Cagnes-sur-Mer; police stations attacked at Lyon and Paris, killing four policemen; a bomb placed in a boat at Marseilles; fuel dumps blown up at a number of places in southern France which supplied the French army in Algeria. The assaults on the fuel dumps were particularly effective, and were reckoned to have sent up in flames the equivalent of one whole day’s petroleum consumption in France. On 15 September Jacques Soustelle had a miraculous escape when his car was shot up by terrorists in the Avenue Friedland, right in the heart of Paris; but the would-be assassin, Ouragui, was seized by Soustelle’s police bodyguard after a dramatic chase through the Étoile métro. That same night police cars were shot at in the Rue de Rivoli and other parts of Paris, while in Metz a para captain was badly wounded. A few days later an F.L.N. frogman tried unsuccessfully to place limpet charges under the battleship Jean Bart in Toulon harbour, while another bomb was found in the ladies’ lavatory at the top of the Eiffel Tower. It was harmlessly defused.
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