De Gaulle in his memoirs remains taciturn. Yet, from what has become known since, it seems that he was always in two minds about the whole operation. Why then, despite the lengths to which he was prepared to go to receive Si Salah in Paris, did he let him drop in favour of pursuing, in the words of Jacquin, “the bird in the bush, rather than the one in the hand”? As ever, the motives are complex. Perhaps one explanation can be found in de Gaulle’s remark to Pinay at the time of the secret F.L.N. initiative of 1959: “But who are they, who nominated them?” The sense of hierarchy, of order and degree was always strong in de Gaulle. Though for public consumption he could state that he would not negotiate with the G.P.R.A. as such, by the summer of 1960 he seems increasingly to have accepted it in his own mind as an “establishment” body. It was also his character to find distasteful anything that smacked of the turncoat, of double-agentry, of la bleuite. As Tricot remarked to the author, there was a curious, and revealing, fact that de Gaulle could never bring himself to congratulate the harkis, the Algerians fighting for France against their own kindred, at terrible risk to themselves. This was not, in his lights, a strictly honourable function. Suspicious by nature (“One must be suspicious when one is surrounded by troubles,” he said to Harold Macmillan as far back as 1942), he instinctively mistrusted the claims of French secret intelligence; and here the story of Azedine could only lend further substance to de Gaulle’s mistrust.
According to Bernard Tricot, de Gaulle’s wider strategy was as follows: “If Tunis replied in a negative or dilatory fashion to the 14 June speech, the negotiations for a partial cease-fire would be resumed. If, on the contrary, the G.P.R.A. appeared to commit itself genuinely along the road to peace, the leaders of Wilaya 4 would suspend negotiations.” This seems curiously naïve, and totally insensitive to the intolerable danger to which Si Salah and his fellow “renegades” would thus be submitted. But the whole truth may not have been quite so guileless. On the basis of information provided by Krim after the war, General Jacquin insists that on 26 March — only a few days after the first contacts had been taken up with Si Salah, under a veil of total secrecy — Krim received a “leak” from the French government revealing that Wilaya 4 was proposing a separate cease-fire. Thus it seems that de Gaulle may throughout have regarded “Operation Tilsit” chiefly as a powerful lever with which to prise the G.P.R.A. into negotiations on his terms — the glistening goal which had eluded him all along.[4] The implied menace was clear; either deal with me for a cease-fire, or I will conclude a separate peace with your subordinates.
On the other hand, de Gaulle himself was under strong counter-pressures at approximately this time. In May 1960 Krim and Boussouf were on their way back from the most high-powered and successful visit that the F.L.N. had yet made to Peking and Moscow, accompanied by well-publicised promises of greatly augmented support from the Communist bloc. As always, there was nothing which made de Gaulle more nervous than the fear of being caught in a Communist pincer in Algeria. Thus, here was a Machiavellian political game, with both de Gaulle and the G.P.R.A. playing for higher stakes than Si Salah; and with success almost bound to make inevitable the sacrifice of the pawns who had put their trust in de Gaulle. Who would win? And would the ends justify the means?
Melun
The G.P.R.A.’s response to de Gaulle’s broadcast of 14 June was significantly swift. Within the week had come their acceptance; on the 25th the first F.L.N. delegation ever to fly openly to France to discuss peace arrived at Orly, enveloped in massive security precautions. Leading them were the youthful and quick-witted Ben Yahia and Maître Ahmed Boumendjel, a gallicised lawyer well-known to the Paris Bar, who had joined the F.L.N. following the “suicide” of his brother, Ali, during the Battle of Algiers. Boumendjel, a portly figure exuding bonhomie, epitomised the cheerful self-confidence the Algerians displayed on arrival. At the head of the receiving delegation was Roger Moris, de Gaulle’s Secretary-General for Algerian Affairs, supported by Colonel Mathon, who had been so closely involved in “Operation Tilsit”. Moris was not perhaps the happiest of choices, in that he was generally regarded as an apostle of Algérie française. The Algerians were conducted to the Louis XIII prefecture in the nearby town of Melun, where, in the words of Boumendjel, they were kept as in a “golden cage”. Sleeping, eating and conferring in the prefecture, over the ensuing five days they were not permitted to leave its grounds, or have any contact with the journalists clustered outside the iron railings — de Gaulle having decreed a total Press silence. The only link allowed with the outer world was a direct telephone line to the G.P.R.A. in Tunis; there was absolutely no question of any communication with Ben Bella in his “golden cage”. The Algerians felt they were treated throughout with a certain arrogance by de Gaulle, to whom their French opposite numbers reported back each evening.
Under these auspices the conference opened unhopefully with each side repeating its own well-worn and mutually irreconcilable formulas for peace. The one was a step-by-step approach, with the French insisting that a cease-fire must precede negotiations; the other global, declaring with equal rigidity that a cease-fire could not be regarded separately from an overall political settlement. De Gaulle was swiftly disabused of any hopes that the emissaries had come prepared for a speedy acceptance of his drapeau blanc when Boumendjel demanded that there should now be direct talks between de Gaulle himself and Ferhat Abbas — or, preferably, a liberated Ben Bella. Apart from offending the niceties of French diplomatic custom, which required elaborate preparations in advance of such a “summit”, it was clear to de Gaulle that this was but a skilful move to gain de facto recognition for the G.P.R.A. A frosty refusal was passed down from Olympus: how could there be such concessions while murders and ambushes continued in Algeria? Next, the Algerians requested that at least a member of the French government of ministerial rank should take part in the talks. After four days of the deaf speaking to the deaf, de Gaulle unilaterally broke off the talks. On the 29th the Algerians departed in a cold but courteously correct atmosphere. The following week Ferhat Abbas was declaring in the language of the hard-liners: “Independence is not offered, it is seized…. The war may still continue a long time.” As the logical diplomatic follow-up, fresh threats of the F.L.N. turning its face further towards the Eastern bloc were soon in the air, with Abbas explaining: “We would rather defend ourselves with Chinese arms than allow ourselves to be killed by the arms of the West….”
Whichever way one may look at it, Melun was a total defeat for de Gaulle, while it gave the F.L.N. their second political victory of the year — if “Barricades Week” may be reckoned the first. As seen by the uncommitted Muslims of Algeria, the G.P.R.A. had been invited by de Gaulle, but it was on their initiative that they had returned home — both sure signs of strength. From this moment, claims Philippe Tripier, they “adopted an equivocal attitude” towards de Gaulle, attributing to him “the posture of the defeated”. To the French investors on whom Delouvrier counted for the realisation of the Constantine Plan, the mere fact that de Gaulle had begun negotiations at all was a major deterrent, while, to the “silent majority” in France as a whole the fact that they had failed came as an unmistakable disappointment. Despite de Gaulle’s clamp-down on Press coverage, the F.L.N. — consonant with its untiring pursuit of “externalising the war” — had gained another valuable world platform and much beneficial publicity. Though de Gaulle might continue to protest that he would not recognise the G.P.R.A. as a negotiating partner, by the mere presence of its emissaries at Melun it had got a first foot in the door which de Gaulle would never be able to dislodge. This was what, from his prison cell, Ait Ahmed had perceptively predicted, and urged upon the G.P.R.A., some six months earlier (and it was a lesson that was certainly not lost upon the negotiators of North Vietnam in their tediously protracted appearances in Paris over a decade later). Seen in the perspective of time, it seems clear that — although Ferhat Abbas might still have desired purposeful negotiations in that summer of 1960 —
the G.P.R.A. had come to Paris with no other intention than to place its foot in the door, and then withdraw leaving it there.
No, there had been one other intention — to recoup from the Si Salah affair.
In both respects this strategy of the G.P.R.A. “hard-liners” succeeded admirably, drawing de Gaulle into a cunningly laid trap. De Gaulle seems to have totally miscalculated the hand he felt had been dealt him by “Operation Tilsit”, and it may well have been one of the most disastrous miscalculations of the whole war — on a number of levels. Certainly, as far as any aim of using Si Salah as a lever to bring the G.P.R.A. to the conference table was concerned, de Gaulle fell dismally between two stools — losing Si Salah and gaining nothing from the other. Just how much might have been achieved by “Operation Tilsit” remains a matter of bitter controversy between the senior army officers concerned in it and those close to de Gaulle, like Bernard Tricot. The former claim it to be one of the capital events of the war, a full vindication of the Challe strategy. If carried through, they say, it could at its lowest have resulted in creating a “hole” right in the geographical centre of the revolt, covering a third of the area of Algeria and splitting the east from the west. At its highest, it would have deprived the F.L.N. of any claim to be the sole representative of nationalist Algeria, and have led eventually to a separate peace on terms permitting the continued existence of the présence française.[5] And once the fighting war had died away in the “interior”, it would be extremely difficult to rekindle. Algeria might have been spared more than a year of war.
Whether these arguments are realistic or not is almost less important than the fact that General Challe, in particular, believed them and they were to play a decisive role in his own future actions. As Yves Courrière remarks, the Si Salah fiasco “was the point of departure for what, less than a year later, was to be called the Revolt of the Generals. For them, following his meeting with Si Salah, de Gaulle committed an act of betrayal on 14 June 1960.”
Though the whole Si Salah[6] and Melun episode was far from being de Gaulle’s finest hour, coming so soon after his precarious recovery from “the Barricades”, it goes some way to illustrate both the complexities of the pressures upon him, as well as the essential loneliness of his position. There was one final point: whatever the potential of Si Salah, by renouncing him in favour of talks with the G.P.R.A. emissaries, de Gaulle was in effect dealing, on behalf of the G.P.R.A., yet another blow at the evanescent “third force” in Algeria. Even if he had just intended to use Si Salah as the lever to make the G.P.R.A. negotiate, the fact of their accepting it meant that de Gaulle — regardless of his protests to the contrary — would eventually be forced to negotiate solely with the F.L.N., because there would be no one else, no other interlocuteur valable. Thus, from “Tilsit” and Melun onwards the battle between France and the F.L.N. now began to depart from the blood-stained bled of Algeria for higher realms of politics and diplomacy.
23. Ratonnade.
24. “Barricades Week”, January 1960. Rival leaders Pierre Lagaillarde and Joseph Ortiz.
25. Above: “Barricades Week”, Algiers. Demonstrators tear up the cobbles to make barricades while a huge crowd gathers.
26. Below: December 1960. Rue Michelet: scenes reminiscent of Budapest, 1956, as pied noir “ultras” demonstrate against de Gaulle.
27. Above: A paratrooper guards Algiers town hall against jeering pieds noirs.
28. Below: The Muslim reaction: a French army unit rounds up “pillagers”.
33. Above: The “battle of the transistors”. French servicemen listen to news of the putsch during the day of 23 April.
The generals’ putsch, April 1961.
29–32. Left: The four generals who led the revolt. Top, left to right: General Raoul Salan, General André Zeller. Bottom, left to right: General Edmond Jouhoud and General Maurice Challe.
34. Below: Tanks guard the National Assembly, Paris.
35. Above: March 1962. As French and Muslim leaders prepared to meet in Evian, attacks—both F.L.N. and O.A.S. inspired—increased in Algiers.
36. Below: February 1962. Demonstration against O.A.S. outrages in Paris.
37. Above: “A solution of good sense”. De Gaulle announces the cease-fire on 18 March 1962, following the Evian peace talks.
38. Right: Exodus: nearly a half million pieds noirs abandon their homes and livelihoods and pour back destitute into metropolitan France.
39. Above: 1962. The victorious A.L.N. welcomes the members of Wilayas 1 and 6 in the Stade Ruisseau. Centre, Ben Bella, on his left, Colonel Boumedienne, Colonel Mendjli; on his right, Saadi Yacef, Colonel Slimane.
40. Below: 1975. The page is turned. President Boumedienne of Algeria greets President Giscard d’Estaing as he arrives on the first visit by a French head of state since independence.
[1] At the long-awaited “Barricades Trial”, which started in November 1960 and lasted three months, sentences were surprisingly mild; Lagaillarde, bombastic as ever in front of the court, and demanding that his “more distinguished actions” of May 1958 be taken into account, was given ten years, but placed at provisional liberty, from which he promptly absconded; Ortiz was sentenced to death in absentia; Susini, despite jumping bail, received no more than a two-year suspended sentence; Colonel Gardes, the only serving officer on trial, was acquitted—as were a dozen others.
[2] Not to be confused with the “disappeared” Wilaya 4 chief, Colonel Si M’hamed, alias Ahmed Bougarra.
[3] In operations involving signals intelligence, the B.E.L. seems to have reached a peak of excellence at about this time. According to Jacquin, almost simultaneously with “Tilsit” a successful coup had also been mounted against the command of Wilaya 5 (Oranie). Intercepts revealed that Boumedienne’s successor, Colonel Lotfi, was on his way back from Morocco to his headquarters in western Algeria. His precise route determined, he and his escort were ambushed and wiped out. Before A.L.N. headquarters in Morocco could learn of the Wilaya commander’s fate, the B.E.L. had a “false Colonel Lotfi” reporting on the air over the captured transmitter. For several months the “playback” continued, with “Colonel Lotfi” calling repeatedly for reinforcements, arms and money, all of which fell into French ambushes, until finally the ruse was tumbled to. The operation only increased the general sense of insecurity suffered by the Wilayas of the “interior”, and distrust between them and the high command of the “exterior”.
[4] This was reinforced by Abdelkader Chanderli, who declared categorically to the author (in 1973) that the Si Salah episode was “just an aberration. De Gaulle had absolutely no intention of dealing with Si Salah; though Si Salah was an honest man and thought he was acting for the best.”
[5] It should be noted here, however, that the Wilaya 4 leaders in their remarks about ending “European domination” were clearly envisaging the attainment of majority rule, and not any return to the status quo ante of 1954.
[6] In November 1984, to mark the 30th anniversary of the opening of the “Algerian War of National Liberation”, President Chadli Bendjedid decreed an act of amnesty embracing posthumously some fifty F.L.N. leaders who had fallen prey to internal dispute, both during and after the war. Prominent among these was Si Salah. At the time of the 1984 amnesty, among Algerian veterans knowledgeable about the episode, the author was also able to meet the son of Si Salah (alias Zamoun) himself. He was eight at the time of his father’s death and anxious to ascertain the precise facts surrounding it. It is now accepted that, in the first place, the grievances of Si Salah and Wilaya 4 against Boumedienne’s “exterior” were real indeed. Secondly, Si Salah on his return from Paris was not (as surmised on p. 393) killed by a French patrol. Instead it appears that, after spending nearly a whole year in semi-captivity, Si Salah was executed on the orders of Boumedienne and the G.P.R.A. As of 1984, the official view of Si Salah seems to be an essentially tragic one; he had breached discipline in treating with the French, but was no traitor — simply a victim of the wiles of
de Gaulle at his most Machiavellian. Such revelations about the inner workings of the F.L.N. could certainly not have been made in 1973, while Boumedienne was still alive.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Revolution in the Revolution
There are only two powers in the world…the sword and the spirit. In the long run, the sword is always defeated by the spirit….
Napoleon Bonaparte
In the maquis: a grim struggle for survival
ALTHOUGH the two consecutive halves of the Vietnam war may have continued longer, in the post-1945 world no “war of liberation” has combined so long a duration with such a disproportion of logistics as the Algerian war. Because of the natural taciturnity and stoicism of the Algerian, all too little is known in the Western world of the suffering endured in the maquis by the forces of the interior. But it is reasonable to surmise that not many other peoples could have withstood better six such grim years of unrelenting hardship. It was also no accident that the end of the winter of 1960 had brought with it the Si Salah offer of a separate peace; for in more than one region of the interior the Challe offensive had reduced the maquisards to the limits of endurance. In the rugged Atlas highlands of Algeria winter can be as bitter as anywhere on earth; and it is made all the more penetrating by the extremes of heat that precede it and the lack of acclimatisation of those subjected to it. And the winter of 1960 was a particularly harsh one. Some of the rare films of the period show grim scenes reminiscent of the worst moments of the Yugoslav partisan war of 1941–5. Haggard remnants of broken katibas huddled over meagre fires in their mountain hideouts, while young children attempted to melt snow in steel helmets. Often the proximity of Challe’s Commandos de Chasse prowling only a few hundred yards distant made it impossible to light any fire at all for days on end. There was always a shortage of warm clothing and, worse still, of food. Cut off from contact with Muslim villagers, sometimes the maquisards would endeavour to track the trackers themselves in the desperate hope of gleaning a few crusts of bread or other rations abandoned by the French. Under these circumstances nourishment would consist of nothing more than a cold gruel of wheat kernels and grass. Under the strain of being constantly pursued, and of being forced to speak in whispers perhaps for weeks on end for fear of betraying themselves to the enemy, seasoned fighters not infrequently broke down and became demented.
A Savage War of Peace Page 58