France

By an unwritten rule of French politics, summer is closed season on cabinet crises. This applies particularly to August, when the French go away on vacation, abandoning Paris to the tourists. But the rule has been broken rudely this year by the crisis that began late in July and went on through August into the autumn.

The decline of the Fourth French Republic, in its less than two years of existence, could be measured by the original votes of confidence obtained in the National Assembly by the successive Premiers: Ramadier 549 to 0, Schuman 412 to 186, Marie 352 to 190, and Schuman 322 to 185. The important figure is the affirmative one, the negative being entirely Communist. The drop is caused by abstentions, indicating the progressive breakup of the conservative coalition. The necessary majority is 311. Another measure of the decline is the duration of each Premier in office: Ramadier ten months, Schuman eight months, Marie one mont h, Schuman three days.

The crisis began almost casually. The first Schuman government was having trouble in the Assembly over its military budget, but the debate was not taken seriously, since the cabinet had already survived so many other, more serious disputes. Foreign Minister Georges Bidault was in The Hague, proposing a parliament of Europe to the other four nations of the Western Union. And Paris was being its usual summer self.

The city was so empty that it was possible to drive the length of the Grands Boulevards without once shifting gears, to travel the entire ChampsElysées without passing a single bicyclist, and to make the turn around the Arc do Triomphe without being scolded by a single taxi driver. In fact, this was the first real peacetime summer since the war, with foreign tourists arriving in droves.

But the gentle, pastoral scene of Paris in the summer was shattered by politicians. The Socialists insisted on a reduction of 12 billion francs in Schuman’s military budget of more than 300 billion. The difference was relatively small, but large enough to cause the crisis desired by the Socialists. Schuman, without making the vote a question of confidence, threatened to resign if the reduction were adopted. It was adopted, 297 to 214, and the crisis began. The overthrow, on so technical a point, of a cabinet that had performed loyal, efficient service for eight difficult months seemed disgraceful to the many friends of the Republic. It was only later that the meaning of the Socialist maneuver became clear.

President Vincent Auriol, a Socialist himself and a protégé of Léon Blum, went through all the usual consultations, unusual though the crisis was. He conferred with Edouard Herriot, President of the National Assembly, and with Gaston Monnerville, President of the Council of the Republic. He consulted all the party groups, beginning with the Communist, the largest in the Assembly, and ending with the splinter groups on the far right. Then he appointed a Radical-Socialist, André Marie, former Minister of Justice, as Premier.

Much was made of the fact that Marie was not well. He had spent two years in Buchenwald during the war. He left the camp suffering from malnutrition and weak lungs. But those who came into contact with him during his brief period as Premier found him strong and energetic. He recruited Paul Reynaud, the independent wartime Premier, as Finance Minister, and between them, they worked out a long-range plan for the solution of France’s economic problems. The cabinet received its vote of confidence in the Assembly, but it broke up within a month when the Socialists, participating reluctantly in the government, refused to go along with Roynaud’s program.

The Reynaud Plan

Again the blame for the crisis was attributed to the Socialists, but so eager were they to escape the responsibility that they took the unusual step of devoting an entire page of their official journal, Le Populaire, to an exposé of the Reynaud Plan and their objections to it. The page made public the plan, which had been the subject of top-secret cabinet discussion, and which was to remain, despite bitter recriminations, the basis of subsequent efforts to restore economic stability to France.

According to the Socialists, Reynaud estimated the budget deficit at 330 billion francs for 1948 and 700 billion for 1949. To cover this deficit, Reynaud proposed an increase in taxes to bring in 125 billion francs, a reduction in state expenses to balance the budget, and minor wage raises to compensate the workers for the added burden they would have to bear.

The Socialists reproached Reynaud with planning for inadequate budget receipts and putting most of the burden on the workers because of the insufficient raises in pay. The final breakup of the Marie government they blamed on the refusal of Reynaud and Marie to modify their plan.

According to Reynaud, his plan as presented in Le Poputaire was only the beginning of the long-range program which would eventually have balanced the budget; any further wage raise would be as illusory as all the others since the liberation; and as for modification of the plan, he was ready to compromise on secondary points, but on the essential, his duty was to be firm.

However, the discussion was futile. Reynaud departed from office, enjoying the prestige that devolved from the formulation of his plan, if not the pleasure of putting it into operation.

Socialist tryout

There is another unwritten law of French politics, as inflexible as that of the summer vacuum, to the effect that the party responsible for overthrowing a cabinet should assume the task of forming a new government. Since the Socialists had brought down both the Schuman and the Marie administrations, it was clearly their turn to try to govern. Because Paul Ramadier had been the most vociferous Socialist objector, he was the obvious choice for the Premiership.

But the personal and party animosities aroused by the successive crises were bitter. Many Popular Republican and Radical-Socialist Deputies awaited their chance for revenge in the Assembly. Ramadier realized he could not hold the Premiership, and after a day of consultations, he declined the nomination.

The hand is shown

President Auriol turned again to Schuman, and now the politicians had completed their full, vicious circle. They were back where they began when Schuman was overthrown on the minor point of military appropriations. But this time the Socialists, while willing to support the new cabinet, declined to accept any ministries for themselves. And now the meaning of their answer was clear. They were trying to obtain the advantage, already being enjoyed by the Communists, of being in the opposition, or at least away from the responsibility of being in the government.

The perennial Socialist officeholders like Ramadier, and the elder Socialist statesmen like Blum and Auriol, were opposed to the maneuver, but the younger men, with their careers still to make, wanted freedom of action.

The impelling reason was the rise in prices (10 per cent in August, bringing the retail index to seventeen times the 1938 level), and the consequent clamor for wage raises by both the Communist-led General Confederation of Labor and the Socialist Force Ouvrière. Although the two major unions had been divided since last winter’s strikes, to the advantage of the Socialists, they were now cooperating again in many factories, to the pleasure of the Communists.

It was impossible for the Socialists to reconcile the conflicting pressures of party and government. An overwhelming majority of the Socialist Deputies voted for the party, and Schuman tried to form his second cabinet without them.

Workers versus government

With both the Communists and the Socialists out of office, the incoming government was clearly confronted with the unanimous opposition of the working class. Under the threat of labor agitation, strikes, and perhaps disorders, no one wanted to accept the Ministry of Interior, with its responsibility for the police. Unable to complete the cabinet, Schuman returned his commission to President Auriol.

This was the most dangerous moment of the crisis. The Third Force — the coalition that had stood against the Communists and Gaullists and had governed with success, mediocre as it was, since the beginning of the Republic—was so badly broken that no solution was readily apparent. President Auriol acted with more vigor than had been characteristic of him. He sent orders to the Journal Officiel to hold up publication of Schuman’s resignation, which left Schuman in the position of Premierdesignate.

Auriol also assigned two men, the Radical-Socialist, André Marie, and Robert Lecourt, a Popular Republican, to seek a new coalition. Finally, the President persuaded Schuman to retain the Premiership and to go ahead with formation of his government. This time, the Socialists were frightened back into the fold.

Cabinets in crisis

The second Schuman cabinet lasted less than three days, but it deserves a small place in French history as a grotesque example of the kind of cabinet put together in a crisis. The key post was the Ministry of Finance, since the immediate problem was one of economics. That went to Christian Pineau, a Socialist, best known as the former Minister of Supply who abolished the bread ration and then reinstated it at the lowest level that it ever reached — because he had miscountcd the wheat stock.

The previous Premier, Marie, wanted the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, but he and Schuman had collided when they were casting about simultaneously for potential cabinets, so he was denied the coveted Quai d’Orsay, but placed in charge of the French delegation to the United Nations — with which he had no experience. Schuman kept the Foreign Ministry.

On their first appearance in the Assembly, on a mere point of order, Messieurs Schuman, Pineau, Marie, were defeated. Their downfall was due primarily to the defection of a bloc of Radical-Socialists, taking their revenge for the two crises caused by the Socialists.

At this point, Léon Blum published in Le Populaire an appeal for unity which he entitled, “La République est en Danger.” It was an emotional document, with a ring of history to it, written with the passion of an old man watching his most cherished possession being torn asunder by stupidity. Then, from his home at Jouy-en-Josas, outside Paris, he entered actively into the negotiations that finally brought about another government.

Wanted: a Clemenceau

Blum and Auriol were looking for a man to rescue the Republic as Clemenceau had saved France in 1917. They thought they had found him in the person of Edouard Herriot, whose age — seventy-six — is the same as Clemenceau’s when he became Premier. But Herriot declined on the grounds that his presence was required as President of the National Assembly, and his strength was not sufficient to cope with the Premiership. Another reason, unexpressed but still real, was that Herriot still cherished his ambition to become President of the Republic, and this was no time to be involved in highly partisan politics.

In desperation, Auriol turned finally to a neutral sort of politician, scarcely a Clemenceau, but one who was an old-fashioned Radical-Socialist, a Deputy since 1914, and a member of seventeen governments, without ever having been Premier. Henri Queuille consulted his friends for a full day, then accepted the Premiership, and finally formed a cabinet.

His coalition included the same bloc of center parties that had always governed the Fourth Republic. The Socialists were among them, having found they could not sacrifice national interest to party politics. The program was the same as the previous ones, reverting to the Reynaud Plan for financial health. The majority in the Assembly was 351 to 196, one less than the figure given to Marie. The result was not stimulating, but at least the Republic had found momentary stability.

By then, the Parisians had come back to their capital. The tourists had gone. There was excited speculation about the expression on the face of the person who stole a suitcase from a taxi, took it home, and found it contained a python, left behind by an absent-minded animal dealer. The Doré family in the Paris suburb of Celle-Saint-Cloud had quadruplets, and the French grumbled about the father being a Spanish immigrant factory worker instead of a good Frenchman. And the impetuous taxi drivers dashed up the ChampsElysées, scolding all in their way.