France, Britain and the United States in the Twentieth Century: Volume 2, 1940 –1961 a Reappraisal Andrew J

STUDIES IN DIPLOMACY AND INTERNATIONAL RELATIONS

France, Britain and the United States in the Twentieth Century: Volume 2, 1940 –1961 A Reappraisal Andrew J. Williams Studies in Diplomacy and International Relations

Series Editors Donna Lee Manchester Metropolitan University Manchester, UK

Paul Sharp College of Liberal Arts University of Minnesota Duluth, USA

Marcus Holmes College of William & Mary Williamsburg, USA More information about this series at http://www.palgrave.com/gp/series/14471 Andrew J. Williams France, Britain and the United States in the Twentieth Century: Volume 2, 1940–1961

A Reappraisal Andrew J. Williams School of International Relations University of St Andrews St Andrews, UK

Studies in Diplomacy and International Relations ISBN 978-1-137-41443-4 ISBN 978-1-137-41444-1 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1057/978-1-137-41444-1

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2020 The author(s) has/have asserted their right(s) to be identifed as the author(s) of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifcally the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microflms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specifc statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, express or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affliations.

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This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Limited The registered company address is: The Campus, 4 Crinan Street, London, N1 9XW, United Kingdom For Jean and Paulette, who inspired my love of France and for my grandson Oliver, who I hope will read this one day Acknowledgements

As with all the people and institutions who helped me in the writing of the frst volume of this study, I have incurred some debts and made lots of friends. On the institutional and personal level, I again start my thanks with David Woolner, Resident Historian of the Roosevelt Institute at the Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt Presidential Library in Hyde Park, New York. David really launched me into this project with his enthusiasm and also with his fnancial and practical help, by encouraging me to apply for the Arthur M. Schlesinger, Jr. Historical Fellowship. Securing that made my several trips to Hyde Park possible. The Fellowship also helped greatly in my stays in New York City, where I consulted papers in the Butler Library of Columbia University, and where I was given very sound advice and assistance. The Presidential Libraries are in the greatest of American traditions of openness and hospitality. After Hyde Park, the John F. Kennedy Library in Boston also awarded me an Arthur M. Schlesinger, Jr. Research Fellowship, and were a delight to work with. The Harry S. Truman Presidential Library in Independence, Missouri and that of Dwight D. Eisenhower in Abilene, Kansas were equally wel- coming. Without them, this book would have been much more diffcult to research and write. In Washington, the Library of Congress and the National Archives helped smooth my path on a great number of occasions. Library staff at the University of Princeton (the Seeley G. Mudd Library) were extremely helpful with their advice on both my visits there. In France, I have always been given a generous welcome by the guardians of the

vii viii ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Archives Diplomatiques of the French Foreign Ministry, both in its old site on the Quai d’Orsay and in its new home north of Paris at La Courneuve. Thanks must also go to the Archives Nationales at Pierreftte and particularly to the Offce Universitaire de Recherche Socialiste (OURS), both in Paris. In Britain, I would like to again thank the staff of the National Archives at Kew, the British Library and the library of the London School of Economics and Political Science, and also those of the Bodleian Library in Oxford and in Churchill College and King’s College, Cambridge. On a purely personal level, in New York I would like to renew my thanks to Neil and Judy Garrecht Williams whom I count among my oldest and closest friends. In Paris, Antoinette and John Groom always allow me to stay with them. Their generosity of spirit is legendary. Other American friends who have particularly inspired me for this volume, and who let me present chapters at their respective universities, are: David Clinton and his colleagues at Baylor University in Texas, David Mayers at Boston University, and Stephanie and Tom Seitz at the University of Wyoming. In France, I have many friends but the ones who have been most helpful for this volume are Bertrand Badie and Marie-Claude Smouts (as well as Blandine and Henri) in Paris and Jean- Louis Thiébault and Charles Tenenbaum in Lille. I would like to make a particular mention of my bookseller friend Patrice Bouquiniste, whose knowledge of French political and literary writing is the most encyclo- paedic I have ever encountered. Colin and Jill Baxter helped me relax in the Ardèche when the going got too tough, as did Richard and Gislaine Bower in Aix-en-Provence. Richard, another friend from way back, has managed to restrain my worst British impulses and it is down to him that I have become a true European, if not a totally frm admirer of the European Union. Christian and Carolyn Leffer have also nearly persuaded me. All those other friends and colleagues at St Andrews and elsewhere that I thanked in Volume I are also thanked in Volume II. My wife Jane and children Rebecca and Nick are the reason I can do any writing at all. They are my best friends and most ardent critics. Contents

1 Introduction 1

2 Humiliation, Collaboration, Resistance, Liberation: France, 1940–1944 27

3 The ‘Anglo-Saxon’ New World Order and the French Riposte, 1940–1946 77

4 Europe: Reconstruction and Integration, 1945–1952 123

5 Unreliable Allies: Empire, 1952–1958 183

6 Conclusion: De Gaulle and the Anglo-Saxons, 1958–1961 239

Bibliography 281

Index 309

ix CHAPTER 1

Introduction

This is the second volume of a series which examines the relationship between France, Britain and the United States in the twentieth century. The last two of these powers are widely referred to in France as the ‘Anglo-Saxon’ powers. The first volume started in 1900 and ended with the outbreak of the Second World War. That volume was aimed at showing how both the practice and the theory of international relations evolved in a period that included the First World War, the Great Depres- sion and the first serious attempt to create a power and rule-based New World Order after 1919. These major global developments led to unexpected and disastrous conflicts and wars. This was partly as a result of an often-fraught relationship between French, British and American diplomats, politicians and thinkers about the ‘international’. The first volume also aimed to show that although Anglo-American relations have tended to dominate the analysis of the building of the post-Second World War order,1 the French input into the story of that relationship and its results is vitally important. This volume aims to bring the story up to 1961, the first year of the presidency of John F. Kennedy. The reasons for this foreshortening are numerous. To begin with, the calamitous defeat of France in June 1940, the period of the Second World War, the design of a new ‘New World Order’ through a prolonged period of post-war planning, and the attempted implementation of that planning, is a complex story. That is all the substance of the first two chapters. In

© The Author(s) 2020 1 A. J. Williams, France, Britain and the United States in the Twentieth Century: Volume 2, 1940–1961, Studies in Diplomacy and International Relations, https://doi.org/10.1057/978-1-137-41444-1_1 2 A. J. WILLIAMS addition the three countries on which we are focusing underwent massive changes after the Second World War. The French state, now freed of the war-time Vichy regime of Marshall Philippe Pétain, assumed a new form in the Fourth Republic (1946–1958), one that was accused of being even more chaotic than the pre-war Third Republic (1870–1940). Unfair as that characterization can be on occasion, perceptions of such chaos were to prove determinate, particularly in American dealings with France. The United Kingdom was also assailed by the difficulties of losing its Empire and simultaneously having to accept that the world had changed forever. It was no longer a ‘superpower’. Both France and Britain had to adjust and attempt to influence the emergence of a new Europe, divided by the Iron Curtain, but also slowly going through a period of economic and political integration in the West. The United States meanwhile was to find itself thrust into the necessity of leading the West, as the state that both benefitted most from the war and an astonishing rise to military and economic supremacy. Those changes are the main focus of Chapters 4 and 5, ‘Europe’, and ‘Empire’ respectively. The end of our period of study, in 1961, is just before another series of tragic and complex developments, all of which have their roots in the period covered by this volume. Chapter 6 covers the period of de Gaulle’s triumphant return to power in 1958 and his initial encounters with Presidents Eisenhower (in office 1953–1961) and Kennedy (1961– 1963). The volume therefore concludes before the assassination of Presi- dent Kennedy on 22 November 1963, and the subsequent Presidency of Lyndon Baines Johnson (1963–1969). These latter developments were the brackets round one of the most turbulent periods in the history of the United States. The Vietnam War (1964–1975) is a huge subject in its own right and one where the British and the French played important supporting roles in a tragedy fronted by the United States. In Europe, French President Charles de Gaulle vetoed British adhesion to the then European Economic Community (EEC) in 1963, in so doing seriously damaging American ambitions for its own version of how Europe should develop. France, so long treated as what Stalin called at Yalta in Febru- ary 1945 a ‘small state’2 was now able to seriously interfere with some of the key foreign policy goals of both of the great wartime Anglo-Saxon Powers. France had come a long way from the humiliation of 1940. The original intention of this book was to take the story up to 1969, when de Gaulle left office, or 1970, a year that saw his death, and the 1 INTRODUCTION 3 beginning of even greater social change in France and Europe more generally. This would have required another volume, when taken in tandem with the above developments since 1961. 1969 is a date that also coincided with the beginning of the Presidency of Richard Nixon (January 1969–August 1974) which led to the end of the Vietnam War, the United States’ first real military reverse since 1945. This was to see the end of an unquestioned American dominance of the post-war economic and military order. In 1945 much of the world lay prostrate before the military power and ideological certainties of the United States and the power it seemed to carry with it. In simple terms a ‘liberal juggernaut’ had not only crushed dreams of national-socialism for many Europeans, including not a few British and French thinkers and activists, but also liberated many of the European Left and Centre. Liberalism’s power in the 1940s and 1950s was summed up by French intellectual Raymond Aron - ‘American liberals play the same role as the French Left, they want economic and social reforms to benefit the masses.’3 The British experiment with the Welfare State had performed a similar and supportive role for many former ‘Résistants’in France. This was in William Beveridge’s phrase The Price of Peace.4 This cross-fertilization of ideas will be explored in the early chapters of the book. But by the end of the 1960s, this rosy view was no longer tenable. What had seemed in 1945 a duo of Anglo-Saxon liberal beacons for the progressives (and many more besides) of Europe had turned nightmarish, with the Vietnam War as probably the greatest proof of how liberalism had lost its way in the United States. Britain had fallen even further in the firmament of both power and influence, a reality accepted by many British thinkers and evident in the retreat from Empire and into an ever more romanticized universe of past glory. The 1970s saw the election of Edward Heath as British Prime Minister, an event that both ushered in a period of strikes and social unrest and also Britain’s entry to the EEC in 1973. The German economy was in the midst of an ‘economic miracle [Wirtschaftswunder]’ It would not be too exaggerated to agree with the British punk rock band the Sex Pistols that ‘there is no future in England’s dreaming’.5 Hence the relative power and influence of the three countries had radically changed since 1945. Then Britain and the United States could dictate terms to a defeated and humiliated France, a country that was to only slowly build up its international standing and prestige. By 1970 4 A. J. WILLIAMS

Britain and the United States were on the back foot, if by no means totally diminished. France was at the height of its economic recovery, the years (1945–1975) known as les trente glorieuses and de Gaulle’s undoubted prestige and influence had made France the leading power in Europe (if still dependent on the US nuclear umbrella). Britain had to practically beg to join the EEC, a legacy that still haunts its relationship with Europe. Anglo-Saxon Liberalism’s decline continued after the end of the Viet- nam War, but is widely agreed to have been transformed by the arrival of British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher (1979–1990) and American President Ronald Reagan (1981–1989). This was not a popular development in France, where even now to be accused of being a ‘hyperlibéral’ is a choice piece of invective. So this story of liberalism’s détournement is also a sorry tale of France falling progressively more and more out of love with ‘Anglo-Saxon’ actions and ideas in the world, with globalization and intervention in places like Afghanistan and Iraq becoming the touchstones for that increasing dislike. And justifications for such activity, especially emanating from the United States, have helped to hone a particularly, but not exclusively, growing body of ‘critical’ thinking about conventional ‘realist’ IR that could be said to have led to a trans-Atlantic, and to some extent trans-Manche dialogue of the deaf. Maybe Brexit and the Trump phenomenon are but the logical outcome? And maybe it is time for American and British thinkers and writers about IR to see themselves liberated from their ideological hyper-liberal straightjackets in the same way that their forebears in France were so liberated by us? But those questions go way beyond the ambitions of this volume. Hence one first main aim of this second volume is to ask if and how the story of the triangular relationship continued, as well as why, and in what form, during and after the fall of France in 1940. That aim requires the skills of the historian, and the extensive use of archival material of many kinds. The way I intend to pursue this aim is slightly unorthodox for an international historian in terms of the sources I wish to use in particular. Understanding the evolution of French thinking about the international between 1940 to 1970 and the Anglo-Saxon, and especially American, reaction to this evolution cannot be done without looking at the usual archives—those of the foreign ministries, the presidents and the like. The foreign policy elite collectively define much of what passes for international thinking, with input from what we now call ‘Think Tanks’, the Press and all the other paraphernalia of a democratic society. But France was for a long period not a ‘normal’ democratic society. From the final 1 INTRODUCTION 5 years of the Third Republic, during the Vichy period (1940–1944) and the Provisional Government (1944–1946), as well as arguably for a long period after it with the incoherence of the Fourth Republic (1946–1958) whichendedwithadefactocoup d’état, France was unstable and the usual instruments of the state functioned poorly, if at all. The British and Americans were constantly reminded of this, and had to pursue unorthodox methods to deal with the French authorities throughout this entire period. As described in my first volume, the State Department watched the situation in France until 1940 with a mixture of awe and despair. After the French defeat of 1940 William L. Langer, an Office of Strategic Ser- vices (1942–1945) agent in France admitted that the Roosevelt Admin- istration was engaged in a ‘gamble’ with Vichy.6 After 1947 the newly formed Central Intelligence Agency expended considerable resources on trying to make sense of French political upheaval. France was not a ‘normal’ country but it was vital to British and American strategic interests. So much of our story has to concentrate on that interaction. But those sources can only shed a very partial light on the French attitude to international matters. As with any state structure that has become opaque, like the Soviet Union was for virtually all of its life, and given that scholars of international relations mainly use models of foreign policy analysis and understanding drawn from the study of the United States,7 we need to look for the key to political and social life in other supple- mentary places if we are make sense of it. France for most of the period of this book may not have been as difficult to understand as the USSR of the same period, but it was deceptive to an outside observer steeped in their own local understandings and prejudices in many ways. Thus the second main aim of this volume is to enlarge the source base to encompass what we can call ‘cultural’ sources, and in particular the writings of key French writers of the period. ‘Culture’ is of course a tricky word to operationalize. Giles Scott-Smith quotes Edward Said as saying it is ‘a sort of theatre where various political and ideological causes engage with each other’ as well as evoking the ‘arts of description, communication and representation’.8 More will be said on this below. Certainly the events covered by this book can only be understood through the lens of the contrasting perceptions of the realities they describe among the different elites in London, Paris and Washington. Those were never purely expressed in diplomatic documents, and their popular expression is often best found in novels and letters by intellectuals. ‘Politics’ is too poor a word to describe the Greek tragedy that unfolded between 1940 and 6 A. J. WILLIAMS

1945 for Britain and the United States, and even less so for the calamitous events that shook France to the core. I will therefore unapologetically on occasion evoke literary and other unorthodox sources, as well as the more traditional variety, in trying to explain the upheavals that all three countries experienced, and France in particular over the period being considered. I would have liked to use more, but am reduced to presenting some of those thoughts elsewhere, for now at least.9 This chimes well with the current development of what has been termed the ‘cultural turn’ in international history, the search for ‘ideational and cultural dimensions’ rather than the ‘materialist Real- ist approaches’ of the wider discipline of international relations.10 The French themselves have long espoused a sociological approach to IR that encourages the wider understanding of the social and intellectual bases of relations within and between states.11 Putting these two approaches together it is clear that an emphasis on structures of power alone will not do if we are to understand the dynamics of the relations between our three major societies; we need to look at what ‘narratives’ they tell themselves and others and who they choose to let them tell these narratives. It is not always politicians and policy makers, interesting as these people are. It can just as easily be novelists, philosophers and of course journalists. As one example of how the ideas of a society can influence key decision makers we can look at a figure who was discussed in the previous volume of this series. At the beginning of the twentieth century many in France had rejected bourgeois certainty, as was epitomised in the hugely influential anti-positivist writings and teaching of Henri Bergson. This rejection was reinforced by the experience of the First World War on the ‘generation of 1914’.12 Bergson’s revolt against the dominance of the intellect in favour of what he believed to be the necessity of intuition and what can be loosely called ‘empathy’ had captivated thinkers and activists on the Right and the Left of French politics. It had also attracted the attention of a young Lieutenant Charles de Gaulle, who numbered Bergson’s writings among his favourites and who gave Bergson explicit credit in his later military writings.13 Bergson’s rejection of the ‘positivist’ philosophy that dominated Western thinking at that time was emblematic of a rejection of much of nineteenth century science and culture, and not just in France of course. The literary critic Edmund Wilson, writing in 1931, had likewise demonstrated how the new century’s writers, like Paul Valéry, the symbolist poet, were able to reject the previous generation—in Valéry’s case the author Anatole France whom he replaced in 1 INTRODUCTION 7 the Académie Française in November 1925. France is quoted by Wil- son as having said that he was ‘working for a bourgeois clientele. That is the only one that reads.’14 Valéry was a hero for a generation who had humbler origins, as was Bergson who inspired working class heroes like Georges Sorel, author of Reflections on Violence (1908) and other contemporaries like Charles Péguy.15 Their impact on the development of French socialism and communism is also striking. Valéry was for Wilson just one of the generation that included W. B. Yeats, T. S. Eliot and James Joyce who reflected and inspired a new generation of young intellectuals, who formed themselves into literary groupings like Ordre Nouveau in the late 1920s and early 1930s and who thirsted for change, revolutionary if necessary. It was in effect the beginning of the notion of ‘engagement’, a new kind of political commitment that we will see lead to a very new way of thinking in France and beyond.16 There was a new rejection of science, even of rationality, as the arbiter of political progress. This was emblematic of an instinctive kind of despair that followed on from 1914–1918. Quite often it was linked to anti-Americanism and an attraction for extreme ideologies of the left and right.17 Ironically this was at a time when many literary Americans found freedom in Paris.18 That manifested itself in ‘collaboration’ with the Nazis during the war. In economic terms this often led to the emergence of corporatist thought, which in turn looked to Germany, the USSR or Italy for inspiration.19 In many cases, as with the thinkers of Ordre Nouveau,20 this encouraged a belief that French Republican mystique and in La Patrie had been lost. We will show how de Gaulle brought that back, and attempted to set up a post-war consensus that would com- bine the best of corporatism with the inspirations of what he termed ‘a certain idea of France [une certaine idée de la France].’ De Gaulle was inspired by his Republican nationalism, and his deep Catholic faith, but also by thinkers such as Bergson, in his search for La France éternelle.He is thus a liminal figure.21

Year Zero 1945 or Unfinished Business?

The roughly equal power relationship of the three countries in 1918 had been totally transformed by 1945. The important British international relations (IR) thinker of the immediate post-war period, Martin Wight, still felt he could declare that Britain and France ‘are the two senior 8 A. J. WILLIAMS nation-states of Western Christendom’, but their longevity and distinction were having to visibly make way for an upstart that had not been a nation-state for even two hundred years. Until 1939 it had even been possible to say that the two ‘seniors’ were able to define the very discussion about IR; certainly, the discussion about the area had been led by London and Paris, with Washington playing a second fiddle. After 1940 the great names were to be mainly American, as was the sheer volume of scholarship and teaching weight. Ian Hall relates how the American Political Science Association (APSA) had 5000 members in 1950, while the (British) Political Studies Association (PSA) had 100 in the same year. That figure had gone up to over 13,000 for APSA by 1970, and 200 for PSA in the same year.22 The British International Studies Association (BISA), set up in 1974, was tiny in comparison to the International Stud- ies Association (ISA), and still is. So while it was true that think tanks like the Round Table and institutions like the Royal Institute for Inter- national Affairs (Chatham House) had largely held the ring before 1939, their achievements were to be rolled over by an American juggernaut. Of course, as Hall points out, British IR was by no means purely an affair of universities—very few Chairs in the subject existed by 1970, and such scholarship as there was largely confined to the London School of Eco- nomics. But, as with Soviet Studies, a very minority interest in the United States in 1939, but a massive one by 1945,23 Britain had been thoroughly outgunned. How could France, with its destroyed economy, traumatized population and even depleted academic ranks even hope to compete? What had caused this initial enormous reversal of roles in 1945 was of course the crushing French defeat of 1940 and the subsequent Sec- ond World War and is the subject of Chapter 2. But that war is generally accepted as having been caused by the unfinished business of the First, of 1914–1918. The nineteenth century world order, based as it was on a combination of an early version of liberal ‘globalisation’ and the workings of the balance of power (see below) was swept aside in two stages, 1918 and 1945, and many of the states that had made up the pre-1914 balance, notably Germany and the Austro-Hungarian, Ottoman and Russian Empires, had been either broken up or severely diminished. The Treaties of Versailles, St-Germain, Trianon, Neuilly and Sèvres after 1919, were supposed to create the basis for a ‘New World Order’ (NWO), of which the League of Nations (LON) and its ‘functional agencies’ was to be the implementing executive.24 It would be unfair to say that the inevitable failure of this dream was entirely due to the main partners of 1919, usually 1 INTRODUCTION 9 referred to by the collective expression ‘The Big Four’ (including Italy) or more accurately ‘The Big Three’. But their inability to agree on at least the basic element of a lasting peace—a system of effective collective security that deterred major challengers—meant that such challengers that did emerge, notably Germany, Italy and Japan, were ineffectively impeded, and, for many historians and commentators of the period and since, ‘ap- peased’. The moment when the game was up for the Versailles Order can be variously defined as having been when Hitler was allowed to march into the Rhineland in 1936, the Japanese to start their march into China after the Manchukuo ‘incident’ on 18 September 1931 or the Italians to be allowed to act unimpeded in Ethiopia after the Hoare-Laval Pact in 1935.25 The United States played very little effective role in any of these events. This was partly because it was never a member of the LON, having had its membership unratified by a rebellious Congress in 1921. But it could be argued that the US Congress was rather rebelling against an Order that smacked far too much of a principle that the United States had been set up to counter in 1776. Many Americans, and not unreasonably, saw the original sin of the European international order that reigned pretty well unchallenged until 1914 as having been designed and implemented to suit the European colonial adventurism of the nineteenth century. Although various American presidents had participated in the ‘Scramble for China’ during that period, often justifying it under the banner of helping China (and Japan) modernize though its policy of the ‘Open Door’, American activities were otherwise mostly modest and only in its ‘Back Yard’ of Latin America and the Pacific. In that area the United States saw itself as having ‘liberated’ the former Spanish colonies in the American Hemi- sphere and having given them a form of what Woodrow Wilson called ‘self-determination’. Violence was a part of that process, though the 1898 war has often been portrayed as more of an armed boy scout expedition compared, for example, to the atrocious events of the Japanese attacks on Manchuria and beyond in the 1930s.26 It was not until 1917 at least that the United States could properly be described as a ‘Dangerous Nation’ except to native American peoples, Mexicans and to other Americans dur- ingtheCivilWar.27 But we also have to take seriously the cautionary note, expressed by Robert Kagan, that since the beginning of the proclamation of ‘American exceptionalism’ the United States had pursued its own form of ‘imperialism’. Neil Smith refers to the geopolitical thinkers of the early 1900s in 10 A. J. WILLIAMS his analysis that the United States eschewed very early any idea of a land- based empire in favour of one based on the spread of economic power and ideas. This also fits with the ‘soft-power’ idea of Joseph Nye—‘the ability to get what you want through attraction rather than coercion or payments’, as well as with Geir Lundestad’s notion of ‘[e]mpire through integration’.28 This was not entirely true, if we accept that the United States embarked very early in its history on a policy of ‘internal’ imperialism, often referred to at the time as its ‘manifest destiny’.29 For Kagan, even the early settlers ‘saw themselves as the vanguard of an English civilization that was leading humanity into the future’.30 Those they displaced or dominated were not seen in the same light as the South Asian, African or South-East Asian peoples that the British, French and other Europeans colonized. Even today a visit to most American museums of the West speaks of an artisanal or more deliberately capitalist culture ‘im- proving’ areas of wasteland to turn it into cattle ranches, farms and ultimately towns and military bases. We might also point out that what had kept the domestic and international peace for much of the nineteenth century was a combination of the balance of power, based on the principles of sovereignty of states, the so- called ‘Westphalian System’, and the need to have a self-regulating system of equilibrium backed by the threat, or occasional reality of, war. Linked to this was a simultaneous belief that liberal free markets, the ‘political equivalent of the laws of economics’ would eventually reduce tensions internationally. A prominent opponent of this thesis, British historian A. J. P. Taylor, wrote that ‘[o]nly those who rejected laissez faire rejected the Balance of Power-religious extremists at one end, international socialists at the other’. He demonstrated that before 1914 informed opinion believed that the only solution to international anarchy, other than the balance of power, was ‘some universal authority which would overshadow […] individual states and deprive them of sovereignty’, or ‘an “ideology” to substitute for the worship of Leviathan.’ For Taylor it took the shock of the Great War to bring ‘ideology’ to centre stage: ‘Lenin and Wil- son were the symbols of these new outlooks’. The post-1945 obsession with ‘realism’, in the United States in particular, was an attempt to move beyond a belief in the balance of power or economic versions of balancing mechanisms—these were now seen as obsolete.31 Taylor was writing these words in the early 1950s, when ‘Wilsonian- ism’ and Leninism, in reality American and Soviet power, were seemingly 1 INTRODUCTION 11 even more dominant. He was also part of a backlash against the ‘appeasement’ of dictators—all they understood was power, and as a result an international ‘order’ was necessary. This was not to say that ‘liberal’ values had been jettisoned, but they had to be properly defended at home and abroad. This led to endless debate about what was meant by ‘realism’, with Taylor himself being accused by Ian Hall of being a ‘radical cynic’.32 But had Ideology really triumphed? As Henry Kissinger has pointed out, ‘the United States has alternated between defending the West- phalian system and castigating its premises of balance of power and non- interference in domestic affairs as immoral and outmoded, and sometimes both at once’. He challenges the Taylor thesis slightly, while agreeing with the latter’s belief in the importance of the balance of power, by adding the term ‘legitimacy’. He, like Taylor, sees the Versailles order as lacking both ‘legitimacy [and] equilibrium’. However, he fully acknowledges that by the 1950s European peace and equilibrium were no longer in the purview of (Western) European Powers, they had ‘turned into an aspect of the strategy of outside powers.’33 This was controlled by orga- nizational structures dominated by the United States, such as the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), or by the Soviet Union, like the Warsaw Pact. So we could say that what Or Rosenboim terms the resultant ideology of ‘globalism’, as opposed to the older search for ‘world order’, can appear confused in that its proponents have often disagreed about what it was and what it was for.34 At one end of the spectrum we can observe liberals who put most emphasis on legitimacy, including the centrality of democracy and the recognition of ‘human rights’ and the liberty of peoples, whilst at the other end are those who believe that peace is entirely due to ‘realist’ principles of power and sovereignty, if only for the powerful. To take but one obvious dilemma, from whence do ‘rights’ come and are confirmed, by membership of a powerful nation state, or by the virtue of being human?35 If British and American IR thinkers who have debated such issues, and politicians that have tried to implement their beliefs through policy, were and are confused about such questions, it is hardly surprising that French observers of this seeming confusion, and even hypocrisy, are and were often dismissive of American actions and even more dismissive of American justifications. Certainly, for example, the various leaders of the United States who believed that their activities in the 1950s and 1960s in post-colonial situations were somehow ‘better’ 12 A. J. WILLIAMS or ‘different’ from British and French protestations of their good intentions were deluding themselves. The United States pursued its self-interest throughout the period under consideration in this book, but it was unique in claiming moral superiority over the old European Powers who had done the same for hundreds of years. As Rosenboim rightly says, ‘[d]emocracy was central to American and British efforts of post-war planning and reconstruction, which configured the world order discourse in institutional and private political debate’.36 A theme that comes through constantly in British, but more importantly, American thinking about the future of world order is about which state (or states) can be trusted to defend core Western values, with ‘liberty’ and democracy at the centre of these values. When President Eisenhower’s Secretary of State John Foster Dulles saw the French with- drawing from South East Asia he is widely reported as having said to a friend: ‘[w]e have a clean base here now, without a taint of colonialism’; and referring to the battle that had finally undone the French he added; ‘Dien Bien Phu [1954] was a blessing in disguise’.37 We can see in these words an extension of Woodrow Wilson’s battle cry to Congress of 2 April 1917: ‘The world must be made safe for democracy. Its peace must be planted upon the tested foundations of political liberty. We have no selfish ends to serve. We desire no conquest, no dominion….’38 This ‘world made safe for democracy’ was a direct challenge not only to the proximate European villains of 1917, the Germans, but also to the ‘old Europe’. From now on American blood and treasure was to be expended in a crusade for peace, a tradition that continued through the rest of the twentieth century and arguably beyond it. As we will see during the period covered by this book, some of the key differences that soured American relationships with Britain and France during the Second World War and until at least the 1960s were over different interpretations of the benefits or horrors of colonisation (in Chapter 5). We also must note John Lamberton Harper’s suggestion that one of the main American war aims was ‘a radical reduction in the weight of Europe, in effect to preside over its eventual retirement from the international scene’.39 The achievement of this is the subject of Chapter 4 on ‘Europe’. The rejection of such thinking, by Left and Right, in France and elsewhere, has to be taken seriously. We can start by observing that French thinking about the key ideas of liberté and démocratie evolved rapidly between 1940 and 1970. The days when French intellectuals had been 1 INTRODUCTION 13 star-struck by American democratic practice, as had been Alexis de Toc- queville in the early nineteenth century, were long gone. Though he had warned against what he called the problems of a ‘despotisme mou’(potentially a rootless and amoral mass led by a mendacious leadership), and the widespread segregation of the races, many French thinkers saw American ‘liberty’ as increasingly better than their liberté. Some of this evaporated after the Second World War and to some extent during it.40 Partly this came from the self-serving counter despotism of the French Communist Party, with Jean-Paul Sartre as one such fellow traveller. But mainly it came from serious centre-left figures like Albert Camus, and more conservative personalities like Raymond Aron, Denis de Rougement and the Catholic philosopher Jacques Maritain.41 Some of this thinking coalesced in a new way of thinking about a new European federalism, as will be discussed in Chapter 4 on ‘Europe’. But it was also to turn elements of French (and British) thought against the United States. In the early days of the war the Anglo-Saxon powers seemed like a vital lifeline for the return of democratic rule faced with an implacable totalitarian enemy42; once the war was won and the full tenor of American power became clearer there were increasingly vocal calls for new national and European voices to stand up to the Americans. ‘Yankees go Home’ started to be written on walls and in European hearts. For the French, much of this reassessment of the negative elements of Ameri- can influence were cultural. Camus called it ‘des formes de culture améri- caine qui sont difficilement assimilables par nous. Pour le moment…[this is] une confrontation pacifique’, unlike that which was happening with the ‘East’.43 De Gaulle was able to exploit that feeling of American culture not being ‘assimilable’ to create very large areas of blue water between France and the United States and gain public support for new areas of foreign policy with China, Russia, developing countries and Europe. Yet again we can see culture and politics as essential bedfellows.

Sources and Approach

To reprise the comments that were made at the beginning of this Intro- duction, this section will enlarge on some of the ways subsequent chapters will unfold and why. My intended aim of blending the conventional sources of the international historian, those used in the previous volume on the period 1900–1940, with other ‘cultural’ sources needs better eluci- dation. The starting vantage point for any historical investigation is always 14 A. J. WILLIAMS to stand on the shoulders of previous explorers of the subject matter and decide what to take of their methodology and substantial research for the new foray. In the case of this volume the obvious initial shoulders to choose are those of Frank Costigliola. His France and the United States: The Cold Alliance since World War II is an indispensable point of departure.44 What Costigliola shows is that the relationship between France and one of the Anglo-Saxon Powers is far more than one based on agreements or differences about foreign policy, the usual stomping ground of the diplomatic and international historian. That relationship, and that with the other Anglo-Saxon power, Britain, has a complexity and a richness which goes far beyond mere diplomacy. He was, and remains, a pioneer of using the idea of ‘culture’ as a driving force for unlocking the most significant parts of the formation of foreign policy, in his case predominantly American. Equally he has made it safe and necessary to look at what he calls ‘emotion’.45 The recent volume of George F. Kennan’s Diaries, edited by Costigliola, is testimony of how much we need to look at the innermost thinking of key foreign policy players to really get a grip on why they have proposed policies, which like Kennan’s ‘Containment’ can come to define an entire era.46 International historians have been much more interested in ‘culture’ as an input into foreign policy decision making. This is partly because it has been increasingly realised that peoples have a collective memory of past treatment, mostly clearly demonstrated by the fraught relations between Japan and its neighbouring states (and especially China and Korea), that has hampered the development of harmonious relationships since 1945. Patrick Finney reminds us that collective memory has a direct relevance to the international historian for it speaks to what has to be our ‘rightful terrain … war and its legacies; efforts to rebuild peaceful inter-state relations in its aftermath; international and transnational flows of power; and the ideational dimensions of foreign relations’.47 In all of these domains France’s relationship with the Anglo-Saxon Powers has been largely formed by experiences that were, and remain, wrenchingly (the word is not too strong) difficult to absorb. Costigliola is not the only one to have made a recent contribution to our deeper understanding of the links between culture, personality and politics. Gabriel Gorodetsky’s Maisky Diaries,48 the musings of the long- standing Soviet Ambassador to London from 1932 to 1943, Ivan Maisky, show that the possibilities are endless, even if such intimate sources are often not as common, or anywhere near as good as those of Kennan and 1 INTRODUCTION 15

Maisky. It is probable that Maisky never meant his Diaries to be published, as it would have been unsafe to do so. In Kennan’s case there seems more doubt that he meant them to stay secret. But where we can use such ‘unofficial’ sources we will. Of course, to incorporate the personal musings of every one of the important characters that will crop up repeatedly in any book of the type I present here would be impossible, but the combination of sources of many different types is necessary for even an approximation of the richness of the relationships that should ideally be fully explored. So the aim here is to take inspiration from such approaches to thinking about France and the Anglo-Saxons and use the insights of intellectual debate, cultural difference, national (and personal) psychology and other factors into account as much as the diplomatic record. The overall leitmotif of the book might be said to be an ‘emotional’ one—that of ‘humiliation’. France experienced this most intensely in 1940–1945, and that is the main focus of Chapter 2. It was not its only such experience, arguably the whole of the period of the Fourth Republic was full of humiliating rebuffs, in Algeria, Indochina and Suez, in the latter case a fate it shared with Britain. Britain and the United States also experienced humiliation in the time period we are covering or just after it, with two series of events already mentioned epitomizing this. For Britain it was through its attempts to enter the EEC in the aftermath of losing its empire and international prestige more generally, and for the United States in Vietnam. Such subjectivities shine through in the ‘official’ record and are essential for making any sense of it. How else can we understand the alleged ‘obstinacy’ of de Gaulle unless we understand his intellectual, cultural and affective influences, or those of his Socialist opponent-collaborators (for they were both simultaneously) within the Free French movement during the Second World War? Were the French attachments to Alge- ria or Indo-China in the 1940s and 1950s, or the British attachment to its Empire, purely ones of self-interested brutality? With our current tendency of often turning to the vague notion of ‘national identity’ to explain why populations and governments behave in certain ways we should be aware of the dangers of oversimplifying explanations of complex phenomena. 16 A. J. WILLIAMS

What Was Distinctive About the French? One the key emphases in the book will be on the notion of difference. The period since 1945 has seen vast changes in configuration of the international system, in terms of the units that make it up, and the alliances and links that have been developed and destroyed, often arguably for the first time in human experience. First, the Cold War system was one such phenomenon, to some extent because it was impossible for the two main ideological, economic and military rivals to let their relationship develop into a head-on confrontation. Had it done so it is unlikely that nuclear war could have been avoided. Second, it is difficult to find any parallel in human history to the process of decolonisation where a number of states have been more or less willing to give up their aspirations for an overseas empire.49 Third, there are no real historical competitors for the huge surge in transnational economic competition and cooperation that we call ‘globalisation’.50 In each of these the United States, Britain and France played determinate roles, and they did so with an almost unprecedented level of cooperation. It is very difficult to envisage a decolonised, globalised (or maybe even liberal) world in the absence of these three states working together, as well as playing a vital role in persuading, cajoling and beg- ging their respective spheres of influence to join in the entreprise. Though we can overstate the idea of there being an ‘Anglosphere’51 or a ‘Fran- cophonie’52 which much of the former British or French Empires see as part of their core identity, it is undoubtedly the case that, among many others, Australians, Canadians, Indians, Sri Lankans, Malians and Nigeri- ans, even Algerians and Vietnamese, all see their previous colonial masters as important factors in their own destiny and even independence. The Francophone subjects have the most contested view of their own history vis-à-vis La Métropole, France, but they are linked organically and inextricably for good or ill. It is difficult, though not inconceivable, that any of these states could kick over the traces and define themselves, for example, more vis-à-vis China or Russia. Some of them, like Vietnam, were tempted to do so during the Cold War. But they are all much more likely to see themselves as partners of the ‘West’, or of a global ‘international society’, than anything else. That is where they see their best chances of security, or economic growth, and of independence, even if that means working cheek by jowl with the former colonial or imperial Powers. 1 INTRODUCTION 17

International Society or ‘Resistance’? France played a vital role not just as an often-unhappy participant in these linked processes, but also a nation that produced or encouraged thinking about them, and that often in a far more genuinely radical way than anything managed in the Anglo-Saxon countries. For many French thinkers of the twentieth century, the largely Anglo-Saxon, even mainly British, idea of an ‘international society’ is fraught with contradiction and even hypocrisy.53 How can everyone be in a ‘club’ where the rules are entirely designed by the ‘committee’, with no regard for the wishes of the ‘membership’? France was the only one of the major Allies of 1914–1918 to later ﬁnd itself unwillingly recruited into a succession of such ‘societies’. Arguably the ‘international society’ of the inter-war period was one with a distinctive ‘Anglo-Saxon’ stamp, even if the French were prominent players in the LON, but working to a Wilsonian blueprint in the League’s Covenant.54 The two dominant Powers within the League, given the absence of the United States and, for much of the period Germany and the Soviet Union, were Britain and France. However they could not agree on much besides the need for international machinery, and certainly rarely on how it should be used. Then France was forced after 1940 to sign up for the German ‘Neue Ordnung’ (so certainly not a Gesellschaft, or society), one based on racial and cultural norms that were in total variance with its historical preferences. Some major French nationalist thinkers who managed to accommodate themselves to this structure between 1940 and 1944 like Léon Daudet of Action Française, had to forget that during the First World War they had denounced the ‘brutal and barbaric’ tendencies of Immanuel Kant, no less.55 While truly patriotic Frenchmen like the great philosopher and Chairman of the League’s intellectual property agency, Henri Bergson, had preferred to refuse the honorary Aryan status that an embar- rassed Vichy regime had to tried to give him, and who died of pneumonia as a result of queuing for his yellow star, many ‘collaborators’ had lined up to agree with the need to help Germany rid Europe of Jews and Bolshe- viks. The founder of Action Française, Charles Maurras, proclaimed at the end of the war that his arrest by the Gaullist Resistance was the ‘revenge of Dreyfus’, the French Jewish ofﬁcer whose fate had sharply divided French opinion in the 1890s. So ‘humiliation’ was the lot of many of the French élite of 1940. 18 A. J. WILLIAMS

Those who refused to join the Vichy regime gave birth to expressions such as ‘resistance’, ‘collaboration’, and its counterpoint ‘liberation’. These became emblematic in the political and intellectual discussions of the war itself, and have continued to be used, often in very different con- texts, ever since. ‘Resistance’ and ‘Liberation’ have become watch words in many IR courses, and applied liberally (no pun intended) in the literary and academic sense, most notably in post-colonial and gender studies. Often those usages can be traced back to the 1940s. Post-colonial studies are clearly marked by the writings of war-time friends and fellow résis- tants Jean-Paul Sartre and Albert Camus, who were key inspirations for a multitude of third world writers and activists of the post-war period such as Franz Fanon and Aimé Césaire. They in turn put the problématique of race (often referred to in this context as négritude) at the centre of social and political discourse.56 Gender studies may be said to have taken a vital lead from Simone de Beauvoir’s The Second Sex (1949), considered so sexually explicit in its day that an unexpurgated English version, only released in 2011, has a ‘Part 4’ entitled ‘Towards Liberation’.57 She was the key woman, maybe even the key thinker, in the ‘existentialist’ movement of which her roman à clef, Les Mandarins (1954), is the definitive insider account,58 sparing no one from her circle from critical and affectionate gaze. Even ‘conservative’, or maybe more clearly ‘liberal’ thinking has its distinguished French origins in the pre-war and war-time period, like Ray- mond Aron. Aron was, pre-war, a close friend of de Beauvoir and Sartre, and closely identified with their mutual discovery of the ‘existentialist’ philosophy that can most accurately be identified as a meditation on ‘freedom’, and from whence all the other terms above can be said to take their inspiration.59 Tony Judt has referred to the wartime French philosophers and writers who made these terms their own, having taken on ‘the burden of responsibility [for a] French Twentieth Century’.60 In the intellectual sense he was undoubtedly correct, in the political or policy sense, there were many other actors, and showing the links between these cultural levels is a far from straightforward task. The reasons for this assumption of ‘responsibility’ were of course complex, but we can detect certain common traits in all of the key participants. The first is categorical. They all felt that they had a responsibility to history. This idea of historical destiny was not one to which the average British or American of the period would have willingly subscribed, and to some extent the assumption of that by French players in the drama 1 INTRODUCTION 19 of a ‘short’ (1914–1989) twentieth century is one reason for the dialogue of the deaf that has often characterized French intellectual relationships with the Anglosphere. The most obvious exemplar of this is de Gaulle, who often, to an Anglophone ear, made messianic speeches and improbable policy proposals. But these were necessary. Andrew Shennan writes that the defeat of 1940 ‘laid bare a profound national crisis [which] was perceived to permeate every aspect of French life-economic, social, demographic, political, even ethical’ and this required a ‘search for a new national mystique’.61 De Gaulle provided that mystique, and France has been in his ‘shadow’ ever since.62 This is most emphatically not a concept that any rationalist Anglo- Saxon can feel easy with. Such notions looked decidedly ‘old Europe’ in the New World and were an aspect of American dislike of de Gaulle (see Chapter 2, pp. 39–41). De Gaulle’s representatives in Washington warned him repeatedly that this was the case and that it was damaging the Free French cause. Early in the war American radio jocks like Bryce Oliver referred to him in the same breath as Pétain as a ‘fascist’, albeit (and this was by no means a compliment in June 1941) ‘a pro-British fascist [un fasciste pro-anglais]’. In September 1941 another radio commentator, Gram Swing, was a little less rude. De Gaulle, he said, is ‘a right-wing Catholic; a monarchist… and we know perfectly well that the French don’t want a monarchy’. Gaullist representatives René Cassin and Maurice Dejean (claiming to be ‘un peu moins sombre que Pleven’) told de Gaulle in July 1941 that he had to show that his leadership was aiming at a ‘democratic’ union of the disparate groups of French exiles. But they admitted that the word ‘democracy’ ‘provokes misunderstandings and a certain unease [provoque des malentendus et une certaine malaise]’ even among certain sections of the Free French. In other words, many in the French camp were not sure they liked this word ‘democracy’. The upshot, said Pleven, was that Roosevelt’s Under-Secretary of State Sum- ner Welles had said in June 1941 that ‘France is for us Pétain, Weygand and de Gaulle [La France, pour nous, c’est à la fois Pétain, Weygand et de Gaulle]’, not company de Gaulle was happy to be see with.63 De Gaulle can thus be said to have bought, from his own, but also from a French, perspective, a necessary mystique back to France in his person, whereas his closest Allies saw such a trait as a potentially fatal flaw and were wary of helping him as a result. But as the ‘Brexit’ debate has reminded us, often in very critical terms, the idea of a harmonious continental or even global order has a history at 20 A. J. WILLIAMS least as old as the Roman Empire. This has inevitably led to disputatious camps within the West, and opposition to it from (some of) those who felt excluded from its original conception, or do not like the way it has turned out in practice. In the case of the Roman and Chinese empires, maybe indeed all empires, those who disagreed, often forcefully, with the dominant caste structures were dealt with as ‘barbarians’ or bought off with concessions such as citizenship. ‘Soft’, often cultural, power, was, and is, used as an alternative incentivising force to cajole and persuade the ‘barbarians’ to join the mainstream. American power can be seen as having exercised just as much by the medium of the Hollywood film, by American music, or by Coca Cola, as was Roman power by the ubiquity of the amphora of olive oil and the power of the Latin language and the intelligentsia of Rome.64

Chapter Plan Chapter 2: This chapter is an account and analysis of how France experienced the road from humiliation to liberation through the experience of resistance. It is also an analysis of the ways in which France’s allies of 1914–1918, Britain and the United States, in effect added to the humiliation of defeat by bypassing French concerns and in so doing damaged the basis for a fraught post-war relationship. Chapter 3: This deals with the ‘post-war planning’ by the ‘Anglo- Saxon’ states in some detail, and how this largely sidelined the French in exile in their search for a ‘New World Order’ in the process. It is intended to reinforce the feeling in the reader that forcing France to be a bystander to the forging of its own destiny, a process that continued after the war was over, deeply damaged the relationships of France with Britain and the United States in ways that are still visible today. The West was in effect created in the image of a vision of the world crafted in London and Washington and that creation has never been forgotten, or maybe even forgiven, in Paris and beyond. Chapter 4: The focus is on the development of ideas on ‘Europe’ within Britain, the United States and France. It aims to show how French views of how Europe should look after the end of the war, principally in the period between 1945 and 1957, the majority of the period of the Fourth Republic. It examines British and American attitudes to Europe at that period in some detail. Differing views of what Europe could be are discussed at some length, the institutionalisation less so. 1 INTRODUCTION 21

Chapter 5: This chapter deals with Britain and, especially, France’s withdrawal from Empire and shows the role of the United States in that process. The main focus is again on the period of the Fourth Republic, so up until 1958. It is constructed around the multiple humiliations that France (and to some extent Britain) felt were imposed upon it by the United States lackluster support in Indo-China and outright opposition in the Suez Crisis of 1956, as well as in the self-inﬂicted wounds of Alge- ria. It again looks at the ideas that underpinned the attitudes of the elites in all three states and how they interacted in what was often a dialogue of the deaf. Chapter 6: This last chapter focusses on the period after de Gaulle returned to power in May 1958 and his relationship with the United States in the last years of the Eisenhower administration and the ﬁrst of President Kennedy. This was a period before de Gaulle very ably managed to subvert American and British policies in Europe, the ‘Third World’ and beyond. It shows the roots of the issues that were to dominate Franco- American and Franco-British relations for the next ten years until de Gaulle’s death. It concludes with some thoughts on the origins of the present debate over the 2016 ‘Brexit’ referendum in Britain.

Notes

1. On Anglo-American relations see A. P. Dobson, Anglo-American Rela- tions in the Twentieth Century (London: Routledge, 1995); John Dumb- rell, A Special Relationship: Anglo-American Relations in the Cold War and After (London: Macmillan, 2006); Alex Danchev, On Specialness: Essays in Anglo-American Relations (London: Macmillan, 1998); and John Baylis (ed.), Anglo-American Relations Since 1939: The Enduring Alliance (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1997). 2. David Woolner, The Last 100 Days: FDR at War and Peace (New York: Basic Books, 2018), on Yalta: Chapter 6. 3. Raymond Aron, Espoir et peur du siècle. Essais non partisans (Paris: Calman-Lévy, 1957), Chapter 2, quoted by: Alain Laurent, Le libéralisme Américain: Histoire d’un détournement (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 2006), Frontispiece. 4. William Beveridge, The Price of Peace (London: Pilot Press, 1945). 5. The Sex Pistols issued their own version of ‘God Save the Queen’ as a 45 rpm ‘single’ in the 1977 Silver Jubilee Year of H. M. Queen Elizabeth II and on a 33 rpm ‘long player’ Never Mind the Bollocks: This Is the Sex Pistols, A&M, then Virgin Records, 1977. 6. William L. Langer, Our Vichy Gamble (New York: W. W. Norton, 1947). 22 A. J. WILLIAMS

7. See Margot Light, Soviet Theory of International Relations: Marxism, Leninism and Soviet Foreign Policy (London: Prentice Hall, 1988). Light has often referred to the academic discipline of ‘foreign policy analysis’ as ‘Americanology’. 8. Giles Scott-Smith, The Politics of Apolitical Culture: The Congress for Cul- tural Freedom, the CIA and Post-War American Hegemony (London: Routledge, 2002), p. 2. 9. One attempt is: Andrew Williams, ‘French Airmen and the Challenges of Post-War Order and Nationalism: Francophone literary ﬁgures’ views of nationalism during the Second World War’, for: ‘Nationalism and Inter- national Order’, Leiden University, 21–23 November 2018. 10. For a good summary of the ‘cultural turn’ see Pedro Aires Oliviera, Bruno Cardoso Reis, and Patrick Finney, ‘The Cultural Turn and Beyond in International History’, International History Review, Vol. 40, No. 3, June 2018, pp. 573–575, and, in the same collection: Patrick Finney, ‘Narra- tives and Bodies: Culture Beyond the Cultural Turn’, pp. 609–630. 11. Guillaume Devin, Sociologie des relations internationales (Paris: La Décou- verte, 2018). 12. Robert Wohl, The Generation of 1914 (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1980). 13. Andrew J. Williams, France, Britain and the United States in the 20th Cen- tury: A Reappraisal, Vol. 1 (1900–1940) (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014), pp. 7–8; and Williams, ‘Charles de Gaulle: Military and Political Thinker’, Global Society, Vol. 32, No. 2, April 2018, pp. 162–175. 14. Edmund Wilson, Axel’s Castle: Essays on Yeats, Valéry, T.S. Eliot, Proust, James Joyce, Gertrude Stein (London: Collins, 1961) [ﬁrst published 1931], pp. 73–77. 15. Again, Wohl, The Generation of 1914, is useful, as is Eric Cahm, The Dreyfus Affair in French Society and Politics (London: Longman, 1996); On Bergson, see Chapter 2, pp. 61–62; and Suzanne Guerlac, Thinking in Time: An Introduction to Henri Bergson (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2006). 16. The origins of the word are explained in: Denis de Rougemont, ‘Con- tribution à une recherche éventuelle sur les sources de la notion d’engagement de l’écrivain’, pp. 17–25, in ‘L’Ecrivain et la Politique: Les problèmes de l’engagement’, Cadmos, Spring 1978. 17. Richard Kuisel, Seducing the French: The Dilemma of Americanization (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1996); Seth D. Armus, French Anti-Americanism (1930–1948): Critical Moments in a Com- plex History (Lanham, MD: Lexington, 2010); and Jean-Philippe Mathy, Extrême-Occident: French Intellectuals and America (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1993). 1 INTRODUCTION 23

18. One example of some Americans’ espousal of French culture can be found in the life of Alice B. Toklas, author of (among other works): Murder in the Kitchen (London: Penguin, 2011). She was the lover of Gertrude Stein, and a friend of Picasso, Matisse and many other Parisian luminaries. 19. For example: C. Valenziani, Le corporatisme fasciste (Paris: Editions de la Nouvelle Revue Critique, 1935). See also Philip Nord, France’s New Deal: From the Thirties to the Postwar Era (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2010). 20. The best statements of this can be found in: Robert Aron and Arnaud Dandieu, Décadence de la nation française (Paris: Editions Rieder, 1931); La revolution nécessaire (Paris: Editions Rieder, 1933); Julien Benda, La Trahison des clercs (Paris: Grasset, 1990) (ﬁrst published 1927); and San- drine Sanos, The Aesthetics of Hate: Far-Right Intellectuals, Antisemitism, and Gender in 1930s France (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2012). 21. Among the many books that have been written about de Gaulle, the best accounts in English are: Julian Jackson, A Certain Idea of France: The Life of General de Gaulle (London: Allen Lane, 2015); and Sudhir Haz- areesingh, In the Shadow of the General: Modern France and the Myth of De Gaulle (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012). There will be more references to the francophone literature in the main chapters. 22. Martin Wight, ‘The Balance of Power’, in Arnold Toynbee and F. T. Ashton-Gwatkin (eds.), Survey of International Affairs: The World in March 1939 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1952), pp. 508–531, quoted in: Ian Hall, Dilemmas of Decline: British Intellectuals and World Politics, 1945–1975 (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2012), p. 9, and Chapter 6, fn. 108. 23. David C. Engerman, Know Your Enemy: The Rise and Fall of America’s Soviet Experts (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011). 24. Margaret Macmillan, Peacemakers: Six Months That Changed the World (London: Hodder, 2003). 25. The best treatment of this process can be found in: Zara Steiner, The Lights That Failed: European International History, 1919–1933 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007); and The Triumph of the Dark: European Interna- tional History, 1933–1939 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013). 26. George C. Herring, The American Century and Beyond, U.S. Foreign Relations, 1893–2014 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017), Chap- ters 1 and 2; and Christopher Thorne, The Limits of Foreign Policy (New York: Capricorn, 1973). 27. Robert Kagan, Dangerous Nation: America’s Foreign Policy from Its Earli- est Days to the Dawn of the Twentieth Century (New York: Vintage, 2007). 28. Neil Smith, American Empire: Roosevelt’s Geographer and the Prelude to Globalization (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2004); Joseph 24 A. J. WILLIAMS

Nye, Soft Power: The Means to Success in World Politics (New York: Public Affairs, 2004), and Geir Lundestad, “Empire” By Integration: The United States and European Integration, 1945–1997 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997). See also Williams, France, Britain and the United States, pp. 14–15. 29. Among a vast number of works on this concept see Julius Pratt, ‘The Ori- gin Of “Manifest Destiny”’, American Historical Review, Vol. 32, No. 4, 1927, pp. 795–798; and Thomas R. Hietala, Manifest Design: American Exceptionalism and Empire (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2003). 30. Kagan, Dangerous Nation,p.12. 31. A. J. P. Taylor, The Struggle for Mastery in Europe, 1848–1918 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1971) [ﬁrst published 1954], pp. ix–xxi. 32. Hall, Dilemmas of Decline, p. 43. 33. Henry Kissinger, World Order (London: Penguin Random House, 2015), pp. 8, 82–85, 89. 34. Or Rosenboim, The Emergence of Globalism: Visions of World Order in Britain and the United States, 1939–1950 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton Uni- versity Press, 2017) is a very good overview of these different viewpoints. 35. One excellent overview of these dilemmas can be found in Chris Brown, Sovereignty, Rights and Justice: International Political Theory Today (Cam- bridge: Polity, 2002). 36. Rosenboim, The Emergence of Globalism,p.8. 37. Fredrik Logevall, Embers of War: The Fall of an Empire and the Making of America’s Viet Nam (New York: Random House, 2012), p. xxi. He is quoting Marilyn B. Young, The Vietnam Wars, 1945–1990 (New York: HarperCollins, 1991), p. 46. 38. Thomas J. Knock, To End All Wars: Woodrow Wilson and the Quest for a New World Order (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992), p. 121. 39. John Lamberton Harper, American Visions of Europe: Franklin Delano Roosevelt, George Kennan and Dean Acheson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), pp. 77–79. 40. Alexis de Tocqueville, De la démocratie en Amérique (Paris: Flammarion, 1981) (ﬁrst published 1835 and 1840 in two volumes). 41. For an excellent discussion of Maritain, see Rosenboim, The Emergence of Globalism, esp. Chapter 8. 42. One good documentary source for this can be found in Raymond Aron, Croire en la démocratie, 1933–1944 (Paris: Pluriel, 2017). 43. Albert Camus, ‘L’avenir de la Civilisation Européenne’, in: Camus, Con- férences et discours, 1936–1958 (Paris: Gallimard, 2017), p. 233. 44. Frank Costigliola, France and the United States: The Cold War Alliance Since World War II (New York: Twayne Publishers, 1992). 45. Frank Costigliola, ‘Reading for Emotion’, in Explaining the History of American Foreign Relations, 3rd ed. [Also co-editor of this volume] (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016), pp. 356–373. 1 INTRODUCTION 25

46. His ﬁrst book set the tone: Frank Costigliola, Awkward Dominion: Amer- ican Political, Economic, and Cultural Relations with Europe, 1919–33 (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1984 and 2010). His ‘“Mixed Up” and “Contact”: Culture and Emotion Among the Allies in the Second World War’, International History Review, Vol. 20, No. 4, December 1998, pp. 791–805, is a very good place to start to examine his methodology. See also his The Kennan Diaries (New York: W. W. Norton, 2014). 47. Patrick Finney, ‘The Ubiquitous Presence of the Past? Collective Memory and International History’, International History Review, Vol. 36, No. 3, June 2014, pp. 443–472. 48. Gabriel Gorodetsky (ed.), The Maisky Diaries, The Wartime Revelations of Stalin’s Ambassador in London (New Haven, NJ: Yale University Press, 2016). 49. One other example might be that of the Chinese Emperor Zhu Di’s renunciation of global trading links in the early 15th Century: Gavin Men- zies, 1421: The Year China Discovered the World (London: Bantam, 2003). 50. For historical perspective, see Felipe Fernandez Armesto, Pathﬁnders: A Global History of Exploration (New York: W. W. Norton, 2007); for globalisation’s links with empire see Martin Thomas and Andrew Thompson, ‘Empire and Globalisation: From “High Imperialism” to Decolonisation’, The International History Review, Vol. 36, No. 1, 2014, pp. 142–170. For Europe after decolonisation, see Elizabeth Buettner, Europe After Empire. Decolonization, Society and Culture (Cambridge: Cambridge Uni- versity Press, 2015). On the decline of Britain as a global power, see Karl Polanyi, The Great Transformation; The Political and Economic Origins of Our Time (1944) (London: Beacon, 2002); and Catherine Schenk, The Decline of Sterling. Managing the Retreat of an International Currency, 1945–1992 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010). 51. Srdjan Vucetic, The Anglosphere: The Genealogy of a Racialized Identity in International Relations (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2011). 52. Gérard Bossuat and Marie-Thérèse Bitsch (eds.), De l’idée d’Eurafrique à la convention de Lomé I, histoire d’une relation ambigüe (Brussels: Bruy- lant, 2005); and Peo Hansen and Stefan Jonsson, Eurafrica: The Untold History of European Integration and Colonialism (London: Bloomsbury, 2015). 53. The best statements of the notion of ‘international society’ are to be found in Hedley Bull, The Anarchical Society, 3rd ed. (New York: Columbia University Press, 2002); and Tim Dunne, Inventing International Society: A History of the English School (London: Palgrave, 1998). 54. Daniel Gorman, The Emergence of International Society in the 1920s (Cam- bridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012). 55. Léon Daudet, Hors du joug allemand: mesures d’après guerre (Paris: Nou- velle Librarie Nationale, 1915), p. 2. 26 A. J. WILLIAMS

56. Franz Fanon (Foreword by Jean-Paul Sartre), The Wretched of the Earth (New York: Grove Press, 1963), in French Les damnés de la terre (Paris: Présence Africaine, 1961). A good way to approach Aimé Césaire is through his Discours sur le colonialisme, suivi de: Discours sur la Négri- tude (Paris: Présence Africaine, 2000). 57. Simone de Beauvoir (trans. Constance Borde), The Second Sex (New York: Vintage, 2011). The French version, which was unexpurgated from the start was published in two volumes as: Le Deuxième Sexe: Les faits et les mythes, and L’expérience vécue (Paris: Gallimard, 1949) (new edition 1986). 58. Simone de Beauvoir, Les Mandarins (Paris: Gallimard, 1954). See also her autobiography, Mémoires d’une jeune ﬁlle rangée (Paris: Folio, 2008); and La force de l’âge (Paris: Gallimard, 1986), about her early years and meeting Sartre. 59. An excellent recent explanation of the intellectual and personal networks of the period is: Sarah Bakewell, At the Existentialist Café: Freedom, Being, and Apricot Cocktails with Jean-Paul Sartre, Simone de Beauvoir, Albert Camus, Martin Heidegger, Maurice Merleau-Ponty and Others (London: Chatto & Windus, 2016). 60. Tony Judt, The Burden of Responsibility: Blum, Camus, Aron, and the French Twentieth Century (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 2007). See also Ronald Aronson, Camus and Sartre: The Story of a Friend- ship and the Quarrel That Ended It (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 2004). 61. Andrew Shennan, Rethinking France: Plans for Renewal, 1940–1946 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989), pp. 9–11. 62. Hazareesingh, In the Shadow of the General,op.cit. 63. Consul-General of San Marino to De Gaulle, 26 June 1941; Cassin and Dejean to De Gaulle, 3 July 1941; Pleven to de Gaulle, 4 Septem- ber 1941: De Gaulle Papers, Archives Nationales, Paris, AG/3 (1)/256: Dossier 1b). 64. Mary Beard, SPQR: A History of Ancient Rome (London: Liveright, 2015). CHAPTER 2

Humiliation, Collaboration, Resistance, Liberation: France, 1940–1944

Introduction: le débâcle and How to Understand It

Myth and Language The story of the emergence of the post-Second World War order and the roles that Britain, France and the United States were to play in that order was one that started in defeat and humiliation.1 For France expressions such as la défaite, or even le débâcle, are totally inadequate to convey the sense of total loss felt by practically the entire nation in June 1940. Her armies were overwhelmed in a lightning German attack, the aptly named Blitzkrieg, columns of armoured vehicles backed by overwhelming air support, which started with an attack on Holland and Belgium on 10 May and ended in complete French defeat on 25 June 1940.2 The socialist military strategist Max Werner had presciently suggested in late 1938 that ‘the defensive powers of Western Europe as a whole against a German attack depend on the military strength of France… the sword of Western Europe, the most important and almost the only counterweight to the tremendous offensive force of Germany’.3 The answer to Werner’s question as to what would happen if that counterweight failed was to be the start of a strategic and political upheaval in not only France and Europe but the world as a whole.

© The Author(s) 2020 27 A. J. Williams, France, Britain and the United States in the Twentieth Century: Volume 2, 1940–1961, Studies in Diplomacy and International Relations, https://doi.org/10.1057/978-1-137-41444-1_2 28 A. J. WILLIAMS

For France itself, the very different experiences during the war that ensued can be resumed in the expressions ‘collaboration’, ‘resistance’, and ‘liberation’ as it took in the shock of defeat. It is tempting to see them as necessary antinomies, but in reality they grew up in a form of ‘trilectic’, the progress of each being influenced and constituted by the other two. They can even be said to have created a series of myths about how a polity evolves when faced with a major challenge. The response to President Donald Trump’s election in 2016 is a typical case in point— the call for liberal ‘resistance’ went up immediately, those who supported him were guilty of ‘collaboration’, and ‘liberation’ was hoped for in 2020. Such is the power of myth in relatively peaceful times. In 1940–1945 that power was overwhelming. Sudhir Hazareesingh’s biography of General de Gaulle rightly stresses how modern France has been formed by and with ‘the myth of de Gaulle’.4 Myth has been defined by Denis de Rouge- mont, a Swiss writer of the period as ‘l’inconscience’, one that pervades all aspects of life, and especially politics, wherever there is ‘passion’, a theme that will be further developed below.5 It is tempting to show how such a semantic and practical relationship has in turn influenced the way that many individual theorists and practi- tioners think about these expressions in Chancelleries and departments of international relations (IR) alike, not just in the three countries in question, but much more widely. France’s experience between 1940 and 1945 might indeed be said to have created a paradigmatic basis for the three expressions. This is especially true for ‘collaboration’, where Jan Gross says that Pétain’s use of the term at Montoire on 24 October 1940 in accepting defeat has created a narrow meaning ‘which constitutes virtually all that the concept denotes in several European languages’. Gross defines it as ‘the presence of a country-wide bureaucracy staffed by the indige- neous population and established with the occupier’s consent’. This system did not exist in some countries during the war, for example in Poland. In Gross’s term it has to be ‘occupier driven’ and with the ‘explicit consent of the occupier’.6 This dynamic is evident in practically every village in France to this day, wherever collaboration happened.7 Hence ‘resistance’ and ‘liberation’ have come to be associated with a particular combination of internal and external processes to first subvert ‘collaboration’ and then to reverse it completely. That France has taken so long to accept the full meaning of the first expression is also why it has had so much anguish about the full meaning of the other two. It is now 2 HUMILIATION, COLLABORATION, RESISTANCE, LIBERATION … 29 widely accepted that France did not accept its own measure of responsibility for actions taken on its soil by the occupier until quite recently.8 For example, Emmanuel Macron is the first French President to acknowledge that the French Vichy state was entirely responsible for the ‘Vel d’Hiv’ (a sports stadium in Paris) round up, and subsequent murder in Germany, of over 13,000 French and foreign Jewish citizens on 16–17 July 1942 (and 42,000 in total across France during 1942).9 That statement now gives France a chance for a much more rounded interpretation of what it means by the notions of ‘resistance’ and ‘liberation’. Both these latter terms necessitate a full acceptance that collaboration had indeed taken place. But this coming to terms has had a long and difficult history of its own.10 This chapter is an account and analysis of how France experienced the road from humiliation to liberation through the experience of resistance. It is also an analysis of the ways in which France’s allies of 1914–1918, Britain and the United States, in effect added to the humiliation of defeat by bypassing French concerns and in so doing damaged the basis for a fraught post-war relationship. The next chapter, on how the ‘Anglo- Saxon’ states largely sidelined the French in exile in their search for a ‘New World Order’ through the process of ‘Post-War Planning’, is intended to reinforce the feeling in the reader that forcing France to be a bystander to the forging of its own destiny, a process that continued into the 1950s, deeply damaged the relationships of France with Britain and the United States in ways that are still visible today. The West was in effect created in the image of a vision of the world crafted in London and Washington and that creation has never been forgotten, or maybe even forgiven, in Paris and beyond.

Reading the Myths The results in terms of humiliation and oppression for a great Euro- pean state used to victory or honourable defeat were incalculable and are arguably still a factor in French domestic political life and global political discussion more broadly. First, they led to post-war France having a very different route to recovery from that of the victorious Anglo-Saxon states, and one that was vividly marked by a settling of wartime scores and a subsequent cycle of retribution and reconciliation. Second, the experience of resistance and its repression by, especially, German forces has had a lasting impact on European political attitudes. Third, it has had a wider 30 A. J. WILLIAMS impact on thinking about the ‘irregular fighter’ and war crimes. As Sibylle Scheipers argues: ‘[t]he experience of armed resistance and its repression by German and Japanese occupying forces and their auxiliaries [like the Vichy Milice] … had a decisive impact on the law of armed conflict after the war in the Geneva Conventions [of 1949]’.11 It has also created its own lasting dilemmas and as a consequence its own need to read the historical record in unusual ways. As de Rougemont pointed out in 1938, the times he lived in needed the language of myth as much as that of conventional political analysis to give it a sense.12 In those febrile times, where politics seemed to have failed the West, and France in particular, the languages of myth and love and that of politics became inextricably linked in French intellectual debate. All of the eminently existentialist obsessions—authenticity, freedom and ‘bad faith’—most clearly enunciated by Jean-Paul Sartre and Simon de Beauvoir, are responses to a failure of ‘normal’ politics. The last of these categories, mauvaise foi,is a constant of all French explanations of the Fall of France in 1940.13 Antoine de St-Exupéry, a well-known French writer of the period tried to avoid the pitfalls of mauvaise foi by ignoring ‘[ordinary, pre- war] politics’ and searching for a new way to formulate politics. Like de Rougemont, whom he knew well, he wanted to re-find a passion-free but realist love for humankind. Where had the ‘drug’ of nationalist love led except to disaster? As St-Exupéry commented when his doctor friend Pierre Lazareff was being positive about the effect Chamberlain had had on Hitler at Munich in August 1938: ‘It was quite predictable; Put Atilla the Hun and Henri Bergson together [the barbarian and the philosopher] and there’s no doubt about it that Attila will greatly impress Bergson. As for Bergson, he will make nil impact on Attila. [c’était bien prévisible. Tu mets en presence l’un et l’autre, Attila et Bergson. Pas de doute qu’Attila ne stupéfie Bergson. Quant à Bergson, il ne saurait produire aucun effet sur Attila…]’14 Hitler had ‘stupefied’ the German population, now he was doing it to everyone else. And in this quest, said St Exupéry, Hitler was a man of ‘good faith’ [bon foi], when he confronted the dazzled Cham- berlain/ Bergson. The world must note that Nazi Germany was not the Germany of ‘Goethe or Bach’ this was a Germany intent on ‘expansion… there is a tendency common to all animal species – each race tries to swarm over and exterminate the other. [Cette tendance qui fait partie de toutes les espèces animals. Chaque race tend a pulluler et à exterminer les autres….]’15 2 HUMILIATION, COLLABORATION, RESISTANCE, LIBERATION … 31

Literature also gives us a handle on the solutions being proposed as the war wore on. To counter the German Gotterdammerung required the creation of new characters who could make sense of the horrors of the Third Reich. The heroes of the then unknown author Romain Gary, in his first novel Education Européene (written while he was a Free French aviator in 1944) are ordinary Ukrainians who sacrifice themselves not for a notion of Patrie but for a better Europe and for notions of dignity rather than of political gain. However, that heroic idea sees its immediate transcription, during or very shortly after the war, in the encouragement of popular revolutionary violence against oppressive states in colonised areas of the world, often ironically directed against the French authorities in Algeria and elsewhere: Frantz Fanon’s Les damnés de la terre, of 1961 (The Wretched of the Earth), is one seminal example of that.16 From the perspective of the résistant there is no difference if he or she is fighting the SS Das Reich division in Gary’s Ukrainian forest or the French Légion Etrangère in the back streets of Oran. The response through resistance of those who feel themselves humiliated and international society’s response more generally can thus be said to be some of the most important results of the Second World War in the longer term. Bertrand Badie has rightly suggested that the experience of resistance shows that ‘weakness’ is often better adapted to win a contest than ‘strength’ in a long-term struggle.17 France’s advantage partly lay in the existence of an emerging leader, Charles de Gaulle, who seemed to incarnate the great man theory in history and who was a firm believer in harnessing the power of myth both to his own person and to his quest for liberation. However much the idea that national humiliation can only be overcome by a leader touched with the conviction of his or her own greatness, it is a difficult one for rationalist scholars of international relations. But it is undoubtedly the case that such thinking seems to stand out in the mythology of the Second World War. That has to be our starting point.

Europe and the ‘Neuordnung’ By June 1940 many populations across Europe had been so damaged by the Blitzkrieg (or the fear of it) that they could no longer resist the Wehrmacht, or were convinced that a German ‘New Order [Neuord- nung]’ was now inevitable. There has of course been a long debate about how much Nazi visions of a future international order were driven by Hitler’s personal vision and, in Mark Mazower’s words, ‘how far the 32 A. J. WILLIAMS

Third Reich had been playing by, or departing from the European rules of the game in international affairs.’18 The ‘Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact’ of 1939 between Reich Minister for Foreign Affairs Joachim von Ribbentrop and Soviet Foreign Minister Vyacheslav Molotov had seemingly proved that the Soviet Union and Germany would now carve up Europe into spheres of influence where individual nations would be obliged to obey German or Soviet wishes. By July 1940 that process seemed complete bar a little unfinished business across the English Channel. The ideas that Germany and the USSR carried with them had often conquered as much as their military force. As Mazower also says, ‘in the context of the larger twentieth-century story of international governance, one can find no more sustained critique of the dominant assumptions common to both the League of Nations and the UN’.19 That critique of the post-Versailles Settlement status-quo found its echo in the popular writings of French writer Louis-Ferdinand Céline. These were a major indicator of the growing crisis of French politics by the time of the defeat of 1940. Most, if not all, of Céline’s books were thinly disguised autobiography. In them we can trace the emergence of his disillusion with France, his growing anti-Semitism as the 1930s wore on, and his increasing distaste for both the USA and the USSR, both of which he visited. We can also trace his equally growing admiration for Nazi Germany, to the point where he suggested a Franco-German alliance in 1938.20 He was a virulent and effective critic of the League of Nations, a trait he shared with many prominent conservative French intellectuals like Robert Aron and Arnaud Dandieu, who founded what is often referred to as a ‘non- conformist’ group called ‘Ordre nouveau’ in 1933, which condemned both the League and the state of French politics. De Gaulle was influenced by this group, as was de Rougemont (see above, p. 7), though neither wanted to entirely repudiate La République, unlike Marshall Philippe Pétain. De Gaulle and Pétain disagreed about how to restore la Gloire de la France, but not that it needed to be done. Both were conservative Catholic French nationalists, both resented Anglo-Saxon perfidy, ideas and institutions like the League of Nations, and both saw the weakness of France as being tied to its losing sight of its glorious past in a rush for Yankee prosperity.21 The ideas of the Third Reich thus had a receptive audience in France and beyond. How else can we explain that the regime that replaced the Third Republic, the Etat Français, based in the ‘unoccupied zone’ in Vichy, was able to ‘collaborate’ (a new use of an old word), and that so 2 HUMILIATION, COLLABORATION, RESISTANCE, LIBERATION … 33 many of the French elite found the ideology of Nazism rather resem- bled their own ideas of the pre-war period? The reaction to the defeat of 1940 prompted a major reflection on the problems of both France and the world, among French actors as well as within the broader Allied coalition. As will be described below, the main initial result in France was one of almost catatonic shock, slowly alleviated by the small but growing voice of resistance. This initially came almost exclusively from French exiles in London22 and New York where Jacques Maritain and St- Exupéry, described by Raymond Aron as ‘the two consciences of France Abroad [les deux consciences des Français de l’extérieur’]. Aron was himself a significant intellectual of the Resistance.23 The dominant voices on the Allied side asking for change after the war were not French. Those that emerged came from the United States and, to a lesser extent, Britain. Henry Luce rightly announced in Life magazine in February 1941 that the world was now entering ‘the American Cen- tury’.24 That this did not strike too many people as premature is telling. Some Americans and many beyond thought it was about time Britain was pulled down a peg or two. But the ‘humiliation’ of 1940 in the retreat from Continental Europe for Britain was to be far more restricted in both time and effect. By the end of June 1940 Britain had created an enduring myth of survival in the retreat from Dunkirk and by the end of the year one of defiant resurgence in the Battle of Britain.25 However, it certainly felt in some quarters that Britain was getting its own dose of humiliation, and being forced to go cap in hand to Wash- ington. Joseph Kennedy, the United States Ambassador to London, the father of the future President, John Fitzgerald Kennedy, was convinced that the game was up for Britain and its Empire, and certainly by June 1940. He even shared that insight with the Soviet Ambassador to Lon- don, Ivan Maisky.26 To Washington he was even more direct. There is more than a suggestion of Schadenfreude in Kennedy’s reports back to Washington at this period, maybe coloured by his Irish emigrant background and certainly shared by a strong contingent of Anglophobes in Washington and the many Americans who blamed the ‘Old World’ for the current war. Even before the defeat of France, and as early as Octo- ber 1939, the British Government, led by Neville Chamberlain, reinforced the general feeling that everything was lost before the fighting had properly begun in the West—talking of ‘chaos’, ‘worldwide upheaval’, the end of ‘intellectual sanity’ (provided by the French) and ‘individual freedom’ (provided by the British). This missive was sent by the Foreign Office 34 A. J. WILLIAMS to Britain’s Ambassador to Washington, Lord Lothian, at the request of Kennedy. John Maynard Keynes, who was to become the single most important negotiator for Britain during the war, was appalled: he thought the letter ‘feeble and banal.. [it could have been better written] by an Amer- ican novelist.’27 More to the point it made Britain look weak and dependent on the United States, thus reinforcing Kennedy’s warnings. Once Churchill had replaced Chamberlain during the defeat of France in June 1940, he continued to act as the demandeur in Washington, pushed on greatly by Lothian. A letter of November 1940 stressed both Britain’s predicament after the Fall of France and also its great need of Anglo- American cooperation.28 It could be argued that the pecking order was publically established quite early in the war at a meeting in August 1941 between Churchill and Roosevelt, where a document, the Atlantic Charter, was signed that defined the future agenda of world order. This document made it clear that a world hitherto dominated by imperial powers like Britain and France was now to be progressively (in both senses of the term) replaced by one dominated by the United States. The ‘Destroyers-for- Bases’ deal of September 1940 and the subsequent ‘Lend-Lease’ agreement of September 1941 were described in fulsome terms by their British promoters as ‘a “mixing together” of the two nations’; for their detractors as ‘dealing with gangsters’.29 As Stephen Wertheim has reminded us: ‘The placement of “Britain” before “America” was becoming passé. Arnold Toynbee, the doyen of Chatham House now wanted to use the expressions “Pax Americo-Britannica” and “Americo-British world order”’, rather than ‘Anglo-American’ when describing the relationship.30 But it is not entirely clear that Britain was fatally damaged to the point implied in these comments. Some recent accounts have tended to stress that Britain was certainly not finished, as hoped for by Kennedy, and by no means prostrate and defeated after the Fall of France in June and the British evacuation of its forces from the beaches of Dunkirk in May- June 1940. Even if it was clear to all observers that it would not be easy for Britain on its own to expel the German Reich from the continent of Europe, she still maintained a very efficient and effective military machine. This was demonstrated in 1940 by its victory in the Battle of Britain. Not uncontroversially, Philipps O’Brien significantly moves the credit for British and American victory in the Second World War from the land battles of the Eastern Front, North Africa, Europe and the Pacific to the air 2 HUMILIATION, COLLABORATION, RESISTANCE, LIBERATION … 35 and sea battles in which both Britain and the United States were dominant throughout most of the war.31 Be that as it may, the view of Britain as a defeated nation in 1940 desperate for American help now looks rather more threadbare than it once did. French reactions to Britain tend to bear this out—de Gaulle put a great deal of faith in his British and American Allies while also resenting their attitude towards him. And many French intellectuals, especially on the Left, looked to Britain as a model for a future world order and for the revival of the French state, a theme that will be developed in the coming chapters. To show how this often-complex interpenetration of ideas and practices took place it is necessary to look at the different experiences of the elites and general populations of the three. Each was very different of course, marked by physical separation from the fields of battle, as in the United States, or by massive destruction by bombing and the only slightly lesser evils of isolation and privation, as in Britain. But France suffered psycho- logically and morally more than either of these states, even if physically the casualty figures were far less. It had to endure occupation by a brutal enemy that was to deport large numbers of its population to forced labour (the Service de Travail Obligatoire, STO) or the death camps; it saw many of its young people throwing in their lot with the occupier and fighting against those who refused to submit; and it saw its political, military and intellectual class torn down the middle between internal and external resistance on one hand and collaboration on the other. France even had to submit, in Philippe Burrin’s phrase, to literally live ‘àl’heure allemande’, to align its clocks with the conqueror.32

The Beginnings of Resistance in Defeat33

In the context of the defeat of 1940, the incipient resistance movement against German occupation led by the hitherto little-known (even in France) Brigadier General Charles de Gaulle did not look capable of any contribution to beating Germany, Italy and Japan. The brief broadcast that de Gaulle made from London on 18 June 1940 ‘has done more for his reputation [gloire] than [all his books on military matters] put together’ in the words of Pierre Messmer and Alain Larcan.34 Only a tiny minority, about 3000, of the more than 100,000 French soldiers evacu- ated at Dunkirk by 4 June 1940 had ‘rallied’ to de Gaulle in London.35 Most were ferried back to France by the Royal Navy to surrender to Ger- man forces in June. Many French troops did fight bravely in the retreat, 36 A. J. WILLIAMS especially around Lille in late May 1940, as well as in the rearguard at Dunkirk,andsoheldupconsiderableGermanforces.36 But these sacrifices were largely forgotten in the overall defeat, a historical tendency highlighted to this day in films like Dunkirk (2016). For Julian Jackson, ‘[t]here was nothing inevitable [about the Defeat] …the failure of 1940 was above all the failure of military planning’.37 Others have claimed that the truth is more complicated, but Jackson’s judgement sums up the view of most historians.38 It took many months before French forces looked in any way ready to resist within or outside of La Métropole. The image of total disaster was even reinforced by the subsequent sinking of the French fleet at Mers-el- Kébir on 3 July 1940 when it refused a request from the Royal Navy to surrender rather than fall into German hands, with the loss of over 1300 French sailors. They had little chance of defending themselves given that their ships were blockaded into a small harbour.39 The ensuing popular outrage in France was exploited by Hitler and Vichy as proving that perfidious Albion had once again showed its true colours. However, Mar- tin Gilbert has shown that Roosevelt was convinced by the ruthlessness of Churchill’s actions that Britain would indeed fight against Germany, whatever Joseph Kennedy had claimed. Britain had been asking in vain for substantial military assistance from the United States, and in particular for destroyers to shepherd British convoys across the Atlantic. Before Mers-el-Kébir Roosevelt had every reason to believe that his ships might end up in German hands as had the aircraft he had sent to the French Government in 1939.40 Now he was prepared to override Congress and bend the Neutrality Acts to help a belligerent potential ally.41 In an unfortunate contrast, a nascent Free French effort to prove their relevance for the war effort was a fiasco. In September 1940 de Gaulle’s forces, with heavy British air and naval assistance, failed to take the West African port of Dakar from the Vichy regime.42 Luckily for de Gaulle, the setting up of a ‘Free French’ base in Brazzaville in the ‘three Glorious Days’ of 26–28 August 1940, helped to portray the French in exile as having some relevance. Admittedly Martin Thomas makes it clear that Free French control of the area was fairly tenuous initially,43 this also prompted Roosevelt to send a representative to meet de Gaulle. This operation led to the establishment of the Conseil de Défense de l’Empire on 27 Octo- ber 1940.44 However when de Gaulle, in a further attempt to prove his abilities as a national leader, ordered Free French marines to re-take the islands of St Pierre et Miquelon off the coast of Canada from Vichy forces 2 HUMILIATION, COLLABORATION, RESISTANCE, LIBERATION … 37 in January 1941 he did so without telling the authorities in London or Washington, or even those in Ottawa.45 Roosevelt initially wanted to send a US battleship to remove the upstarts until persuaded against it by the Canadian Government.46 Such Gaullian lèse majesté can only be understood by considering how differently France experienced the beginning of the war compared with either Britain or the United States; de Gaulle understood that in order to be seen as relevant to the Allied war effort he had to show he could be effective.

‘Which France?’: British and American Dilemmas of Recognition Britain was de Gaulle’s first land of exile, and he had arrived there initially as the representative of a legitimate French Government, that of Prime Minister Paul Reynaud, who had used de Gaulle as a go-between with the British Government. But that did not mean that his authority necessarily extended to declaring himself the leader of a Free France. The broadcast of 18 June 1940 was seen as unimportant, with the BBC initially not even bothering to record it.47 Philip Noel-Baker, the main future Foreign Office link with the French Committee of National Liber- ation (established on 3 June 1940) was an initial sceptic. He started his relationship with de Gaulle by telling fellow Labour Party comrade Hugh Dalton, the new Minister for Economic Warfare (and thus the main link between the British Government and the future French Resistance) as well as Clement Atlee, the Labour Deputy-Prime Minister that trusting any French leader at that stage was problematic: ‘The more I think of it, the more I am sure it would be a fatal mistake to make – or even allow these Frenchmen to come to London’. He thought the best place for them to go was to ‘Morocco or Algeria, it will seem thoroughly independent and real to every Frenchman, and more and more so as it becomes quite plain that it is the Two Hundred Families who have betrayed the country.’48 Given that this conspiracy theory was current among French people who had accepted their defeat this was not a good start.49 In support of his view he cited Jean Monnet, also stranded in London as part of the Allied joint commissioning programme, and a recent advocate of an Anglo-French Union and sometime Independent Socialist Pierre Cot, Air Minister in the Front Populaire, who was also one of those trying to negotiate the purchase of aircraft from the United States in the latter part of the peace.50 Cot, who had worked with and remained close to Noel-Baker since their days together 38 A. J. WILLIAMS in the League of Nations, was a great sceptic of de Gaulle’s true intentions, a trait he shared with many other French exiles. This was especially true of the French Socialist Party (Section Française de l’ Internationale Ouvrière - SFIO), who met regularly throughout the war in London in the Groupe Jean Jaurès, discussed more fully below in the context of the French Resistance (pp. 56–57). They all feared that de Gaulle might prove to be a ‘Boulangist’, a dictator in uniform. De Gaulle did his best to disabuse Noel-Baker of his fears, writing to him in the warmest terms and even inviting him to be a member of the Association des Amis des Volontaires Français. As late as February 1941 Noel-Baker was apologising to de Gaulle that then Min- ister of Information Duff Cooper had tried to stop him broadcasting in June 1940. Later Duff Cooper was a key liaison between Churchill and de Gaulle (1943–1944), and Ambassador to France, 1944–1948.51 Noel- Baker proved a stalwart defender of other French exiles like André Blumel, Léon Blum’s former Chief of Staff when he was Prime Minister of the Front Populaire in 1936–1937. He also tried to help Henri Hauck with the Groupe Jean Jaurès ’ propaganda work in France in 1941 and spoke warmly of de Gaulle in the House of Commons also in early 1941 when de Gaulle was seen as a troublemaker after the Pierre et Miquelon affair. But he never fully succeeded in reconciling quite a lot of the Labour Party to de Gaulle.52 Many of these fears about de Gaulle were mirrored in the United States. There were Free French representatives based in Washington throughout most of the war. The initial main point of contact between the emerging Free French and the State Department was René Pleven, an industrialist who was held in some evident personal esteem by the State Department and the Foreign Office, and who was allowed back to Washington from London where he had originally fled by British Ambas- sador Viscount Halifax in June 1941. This was not without some worry on Pleven’s part that his arrival might upset ‘certain high ranking Amer- icans’.53 The last French Government before the surrender of 1940 had given him the thankless task of trying to increase French aircraft production in 1939 (under the last French Air Minister Guy La Chambre) and aided by Cot.54 Pleven knew Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden well enough to ask him to ascertain in May 1941, so before going to the United States, what he thought would be the American policy towards Vichy and the Free French. Eden expressed his dismay to Pleven that the Americans were sending oil and other commodities to French colonies in 2 HUMILIATION, COLLABORATION, RESISTANCE, LIBERATION … 39

North Africa which clearly could be used by the Axis and asked him to make the case for not doing so in Washington.55 But for Roosevelt and his close friend and Under-Secretary of State Sumner Welles it was a question of ‘which France’ needed to be rec- ognized, exacerbated by infighting among French exiles in the United States about who should represent the Free French. This led the Ameri- can administration to be initially cool at best and on occasion hostile to Free French representatives. The French community in the United States in 1941–1942 was made up of many different factions, some of them openly sympathetic to Vichy, and by no means all of those who opposed Vichy supported de Gaulle. The analogous problem for Roosevelt was that many, but by no means all, of the key French political figures ‘rallied’ to de Gaulle and some of them were distrusted by de Gaulle or distrusted him. The former Third Republic socialist politician Pierre Cot, mentioned above in the context of Britain, and now exiled in the USA, offered his services to de Gaulle through Pleven and was rebuffed. De Gaulle’s lack of belief in democratic politics particularly irked Cot, though he still believed only de Gaulle could lead France. Pleven sent Cot’s letter to de Gaulle who annotated it in his usual style. When Cot stated that de Gaulle must listen to others outside France, the General wrote ‘Nous en parlons’ [we’ll talk about that]. When Cot wrote that all of France must get behind de Gaulle, but that it was up to him ‘de faire appel à leur union’ [to get them to follow him], de Gaulle annotated with ‘ah! la! la!’ De Gaulle particularly liked it when Cot said the General himself must decide who he put in positions of power, which was annotated with a resounding ‘oui’.56 But the choice of Pleven as representative in Washington did not meet the approval of other, even Gaullist, French exiles such as Jacques Mar- itain, who thought he was not able to speak adequately for the ‘whole movement’. What they did all agree on was the increasingly vital task of trying to influence the Americans’ PWP process. The eminent jurist René Cassin and Maurice Dejean, two de Gaulle loyalists, tried to be more encouraging than Pleven about the state of affairs, but even they agreed ‘the Americans are either unenthusiastic or know nothing about us [peu favorables ou nous ignorent].’ Pleven stayed on for quite a while as de Gaulle’s representative in Washington.57 But a report for de Gaulle from another veteran Quai diplomat stranded by Le Débâcle, Hervé Alphand, in later 1941 showed that Pleven never managed to quell the feeling in 40 A. J. WILLIAMS official American circles that although the Free French attracted ‘une sym- pathie certaine’, Sumner Welles still believed that ‘France, for us, is Pétain, Weygand and de Gaulle’. Pleven reported that when he had met Welles in October 1941, ‘M. Welles est toujours très froid’.58 Pleven was replaced by Adrien Tixier not long afterwards, who was himself replaced by Henri Hoppenot in 1943, also a regular Quai d’Orsay diplomat stranded in the United States by the defeat of 1940. Hoppenot remained in Washington until finally replaced by Georges Bonnet in January 1945.59 Given this ambiguity throughout 1940 and 1941 about ‘which France’ was legitimate, the Vichy Government of Marshall Philippe Pétain could reasonably claim to be the only legitimate and viable voice of France. As the ‘hero of Verdun’ in 1916, when he was Lieutenant de Gaulle’s com- manding officer, Pétain had as many roads named after him in French towns by 1939 as de Gaulle does today. Only a small number of the deputés in the Assemblée Nationale (80, as opposed to 569 who accepted it, with 20 abstentions) had refused to ratify Pétain’s appointment under a new Constitutional Law as President of France in the aftermath of defeat in the debates of July 1940. Although this Vichy ‘France’ broke off diplomatic relations with Britain after Mers-el-Kébir on 8 July 1940, the relations of the United States with Vichy continued until November 1942 when Germany and Italy occupied the Vichy-controlled zone. As for the Free French, even before the St. Pierre et Miquelon episode Welles, who had a much greater influence on Roosevelt than Secretary of State Cordell Hull, dismissively referred to the ‘so-called Free French’, a view that took a long time to dissipate in the State Department.60 The Vichy authorities were able to persuade Roosevelt for some time that, although they had surrendered in June 1940, they were still a much more authentic and legitimate representative of the French people. The US Ambassador accredited to the Marshall’s base in Vichy in Novem- ber 1940, Admiral William Leahy, (though he arrived in January 1941) agreed with this analysis. Leahy is credited, along with his deputy, and interim Ambassador from July–November 1940, Robert Murphy, with helping persuade Vichy not to be hostile to the Allies while also collaborating with the Germans, a feat that some historians feels helps exculpate other Vichy actions to some extent.61 This was, in William Langer’s term ‘our Vichy gamble’. In French this was translated as the far less sympathetic Le jeu Américain à Vichy, reflecting the widespread belief in France that Roosevelt’s duplicity with Vichy was the American equivalent of the double dealing of Churchill over Mers-el-Kébir. Leahy is credited by his 2 HUMILIATION, COLLABORATION, RESISTANCE, LIBERATION … 41 recent biographer of negatively influencing Roosevelt about de Gaulle, as did Welles. He comments that ‘in Leahy’s mind … de Gaulle was more concerned with restoring French pride and establishing his dominance in French politics than in winning the war…’ He was not entirely wrong in that judgement! So although Leahy’s influence on Vichy undoubtedly helped the Allied cause, notably in North Africa, it also cemented Free French suspicions of Roosevelt, and his antipathy for de Gaulle, whom Leahy called ‘an apprentice dictator’.62 This did not mean that Roosevelt or his advisors liked Vichy Prime Minister Pierre Laval any better. One of the President’s most trusted advisors and personal envoy on many occasions, Harry Hopkins, suggested in May 1942 that he would not mind ‘nailing that wood pussy Laval to [his] barn door’,63 a sentiment with which Roosevelt agreed. But if the State Department at least initially tolerated Vichy, it did not like de Gaulle from the outset. Nor did it give much credence to de Gaulle’s claims of ‘Re- sistance’. This did not seem a likely future state of affairs to policy makers in Washington in 1940–1941. Even much later in the war, Roosevelt and his advisors were not sure that de Gaulle or the French more widely could provide any effective military assistance for an American invading force. Such American beliefs were to prove of damning importance for French hopes of being taken seriously as a key ally throughout 1944 and 1945, especially at the Yalta Conference of February 1945 (see Chapter 3, pp. 109–110).64 In London only Churchill really kept the faith with de Gaulle, whereas his Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden was a constant detractor. And even he once referred to de Gaulle in Roosevelt’s hearing as ‘a cross between Joan of Arc and Clemenceau’.65 Nonetheless, the British Government felt that France was bound to be of significant importance in the long run for the survival of Europe and of Britain itself as an independent actor on the world stage, and by ‘independent’ it meant from the United States. It had to counter the ideas being pumped out by Germany that Britain has betrayed France and that Britain was in any case doomed to fall sooner or later. As Tim Brooks points out, ‘this meant exploring France’s future, to show that it was worth striving for, to insist that France would be restored, and to promote de Gaulle and the Free French as a leadership free from Hitler, the Nazis, the Vichy regime, and indeed, from British (and later, American) influence’.66 42 A. J. WILLIAMS

The result was that the American relationship with the Free French was seen as being one of seemingly petty slights by the Washington establishment, especially various agencies of the Government, towards Free French representatives. As each key period evolved into the next, the Free French found a reason to resent the Allies who ultimately liberated their homeland. Even pro-British French found reason to become embittered. The future leader of the SFIO in the post-war French Fourth Republic and Prime Minister in 1956–1957, Guy Mollet, spent a lot of the war on the run from the Gestapo in the North of France. He lost many comrades in that struggle as a member of a unit of the Resistance described by the British as being ‘particularly effective, and has enabled us to make some spectacular progress [particulièrement efficace, et nous permet des percées spectaculaires]’. When France was liberated in 1944 he found himself serving, in British army uniform, as a translator for the invading Allied forces. His enthusiasm was rapidly dented by their attitude towards him and other members of the Resistance. He personally felt treated like a ‘pompiste’ (a petrol pump attendant) and he left Normandy to resume the fight in the Pas de Calais. Mollet’s biographer recounts the belief of a prominent résistant, Etienne Dejonghe, who said in 1974 that ‘resistance fighters often felt treated with a certain disdain by the Allied armies’.67 Mollet is always considered as a particularly anglophile French political figure of the time. It is thus important to understand that de Gaulle was by no means an exception to the rule of a generalized unhappiness with the relationship between the French and their Anglo-Saxon Allies. He was merely its exemplar.

Collaboration and Resistance

The moral bankruptcy of Vichy France in 1940 was made clear in the initial refusal to accept what ‘collaboration’ meant, total abasement before the German conqueror. Some of the 80 in the Assemblée Nationale who did refuse to accept the legitimacy of the Vichy regime eventually escaped and arrived in London. One of them was Vincent Auriol, SFIO deputé for Muret, (and future French President of the Fourth Republic, 1947– 1954), who left in October 1943 and was sent to participate in the Algiers Assembly, the effective government in exile, which became its main decision-making body until the liberation of Paris.68 The French reaction to the defeat was thus initially a very weak resistance in exile. As Olivier Wieviorka puts it, until it appeared that Germany might possibly 2 HUMILIATION, COLLABORATION, RESISTANCE, LIBERATION … 43 be beaten, that is to say until late 1942 or 1943, ‘the recruits were not in a hurry to sign up [ne se bousculèrent guère au portillon]’.69 Wieviorka also shows that this initially suited the British and French authorities, who did not want any significant uprising, one that would have been futile in military terms and have led to severe reprisals of no benefit to the Allied cause. He shows that the two agencies responsible in Britain and the United States, the British Special Operations Executive (SOE) and the American predecessor of the CIA, the Office of Strate- gic Services (OSS) wanted to ensure that any resistance activities did not lead to open warfare within France until the invasion was imminent or under way. The SOE, who coordinated relations with the Resistance, were also very suspicious of de Gaulle, for the same reasons as both their ultimate ministerial master, Labour politician Hugh Dalton, and many others in British military and political circles. Most of the more than 70,000 arms and explosives containers dropped before the beginning of 1944 were more useful for sabotage and not generally filled with arms for use against German or Vichy troops and police. That did change between Jan- uary and May 1944, with 3800 tons of weapons dropped, enough to arm 125,000 men. By late 1944, it has been estimated that the Free French Forces in France [Forces Françaises de l”intérieur—FFI] numbered about 500,000.70 Other activities by the British state included the dropping of vast quantities of propaganda leaflets, 676 million onto France (45% of the total dropped in Europe). These may have had some effect in stiffening French resistance, though Sir Arthur Harris of RAF Bomber Command believed that ‘the only thing achieved was largely to supply the Continen- t’s requirements of toilet paper for the five long years of war’.71 In French political circles in the Métropole in the early years of the war, though we have to be careful about being too determinist, we can say that on the Right, those who followed that defeat by pledging their allegiance to the Nazi Neuordnung did so from a pre-existing ideal of industrial ‘corporatism’ and their persuasion that political ‘decadence’ had caused the collapse of France, at least until the tide of war moved against Ger- many from late 1942. On the Left the defeat also loomed large, though many on both the Left and the Right agreed with the French journalist, André Géraud, (who wrote under the pseudonym ‘Pertinax’) who called the Generals and politicians who presided over the defeat of 1940, the ‘grave diggers of the Republic’ (Fossoyeurs de la République)anexpression used many times since as a generic insult.72 Hence there was some very fertile soil for accepting German occupation with some relief, if not total 44 A. J. WILLIAMS equanimity. Gross shows that in France, as in Eastern Europe, many felt that German ‘discipline’ might well help their economies grow. Even Nazi racial doctrines were not received with the horror that we might assume from our safe vantage point of the twenty-first century. The domestic French public, or even the intelligentsia, cannot be said to have made too much noise about the deportation of Jews for example, as we will see below (pp. 50–51).73

Collaboration

The contemporary use of the expression ‘collaboration’ dates from its use, mentioned above, by Marshall Philippe Pétain in 1940 when he declared that: ‘j’entre dans la voie de la collaboration’, thus forever subverting and tainting a word with hitherto unexceptional meaning of (roughly) ‘working with’.74 The majority of the French elite, those who had not followed de Gaulle into exile in 1940, saw collaboration as either an unfortunate necessity, to save their fellow country people from further repression, or they embraced it as a way of shedding the taint of décadence with which the 1930s and the subsequent defeat of 1940 had come to be associated. There were a substantial number of volumes printed in France and elsewhere about the implications of Le Débâcle in the early years of the occupation, some of which we have already mentioned. As the above comments on Pertinax showed, they differed relatively little in their analysis of the ‘decadence’ of the inter-war French political scene, and the term has come to be use almost generically ever since, as by Jean-Baptiste Duroselle.75 Where they varied was in their prescriptions for those held to be ‘guilty’ of such behaviour and what should happen after the war to remedy it in the future. A much-decorated Radical Deputy, and now confirmed pacifist, Jean Montigny, described how 9 May 1940, the day the German army invaded France, was ‘the last day of a brilliant and moth-eaten [vermolue] civilization which was to collapse with the insouciance of an early Spring’.76 Montigny became the chief censor of the new regime. Another collaborator and Vichy Minister for the deported French prisoners of war in Germany after May 1940, Jacques Benoist-Méchin, was taken prisoner in 1940 but quickly released, and became the main public advocate of prisoner of war releases by Germany. In his book La Moisson de Quarante [‘The Harvest of 1940’], published in 1941, he suggested that ‘the war being lost, let us try and save the harvest [moisson]’, the prisoners taken 2 HUMILIATION, COLLABORATION, RESISTANCE, LIBERATION … 45 in the defeat.77 Most of them never were and he recanted his views later on. His excuse was that France had been so ‘shaken’ [ébranlée]hehad made some bad decisions.78 However, and despite their decision to accept the German victory of June 1940, writers like this shared a key belief with their main adversary in the fight for France’s soul, de Gaulle. For all of them believed that the future of France was tied up with a Germany that was now occupying La Patrie. De Gaulle had expressed his admiration for Germany and its army and people as early as 1924, and that in spite of spending two years as a German prisoner in 1916–1918.79 He was to subsequently advocate a Franco-German entente as the foundation of a New Europe. De Gaulle and much, though not all, of the Resistance would also have largely agreed with these collabos that France was in dire need of political and military reform, that it was indeed ‘vermolue’. Montigny reluctantly accepted that a German victory was inevitable and that the price paid in French lives in 1914–1918 was unrepeatable, and that the ‘manouevres’ in the 1930s of French politicians like Socialist Léon Blum, as well as the duplicity of the British (in particular) had made an accommodation with Hitler’s Neueordnung inevitable. Benoist-Méchin went further and openly expressed his acceptance of German occupation as a way of re- educating the French in the ways of organised and sensible politics.80 For many of the French elite of all political hues accepted that France had not kept up with the modernization of the rest of Europe, that it was, as Burrin puts it, guilty of ‘a nonchalant amble towards modernisation’ since the late nineteenth century.81 In the words of a celebrated socialist résistant, André Philip, France was ‘un pays de paysans attardés’[a land of backward peasants].82 But he was prepared to support de Gaulle, his political opponent in times of peace, in the greater interest of saving France from the clutches of the Nazis, a paradox that often led him to fall out with his fellow socialists. Some Vichy officals, and right until the Liberation, believed they had merely done their patriotic duty by staying at their posts and believed that de Gaulle would fully recognize that sacrifice.83 But, unlike the collaborators, de Gaulle and Philip could not accept that Germany be allowed to occupy France to teach her those lessons, they were determined to do that themselves, from exile if necessary. Most French people were just bewildered and tried to ignore both the German occupation and the calls to resistance, preferring to try and sit it out. They were neither collabos or résistants. 46 A. J. WILLIAMS

The Wiesbaden Commission d’Armistice To ask for the release of the French prisoners of war (POWs) an inor- dinate number of meetings between German and French military officers took place, meticulously recorded, at Wiesbaden, in the Commission d’Armistice. The main subjects for discussion, apart from the fate of the POWs, were the return of millions of French refugees stranded both sides of the ‘demarcation line’ between the ‘Free’ and ‘Occupied’ zones, and ‘ravitaillement’, the feeding of the French population. The meetings of the Commission were chaired by General Carl-Heinrich von Stülpnagel, Commandant of German forces in France. The discussions should be, said the General, expedited entre soldats, and they should ‘sacrifice a little for- malism in the name of rapidity’.84 In truth his was a very one-sided nego- tiation with the French Commander in Chief of the Army, signatory of the surrender and now also Minister of Defence, General Charles Huntziger. Vichy was allowed to retain armed forces of 100,000 men in total, in exact echo of the 1919 Versailles Treaty. Vichy officials were not allowed to forget that they were only tolerated as a result of German indulgence, with Vichy’s first Prime Minister (February 1940–April 1942), Admiral François Darlan, reminding all his personnel that they could only travel to the Occupied Zone if permission was granted by the German Kom- mandantur, the Commander in Chief of Forces in France, in advance. Meanwhile any German plane could overfly France as it wished.85 The files show how difficult it was for Huntziger to strike a deal on POWs that did not further humiliate France. The most interesting feature is that the files are often in two sections, those shared with the rest of the Vichy Government and those in ‘Annexe(s) secrète(s)’ that sum up the real French views that had a far narrower circulation. Von Stülpnagel constantly tried to get Huntziger to admit that the French army in the Colonies should also be subject to the rules of ‘collaboration’. Huntziger always insisted he did not mean sujets français (as in colonial subjects) but rather citoyens français (as in French citizens of La Métropole). He saw his explicit brief as keeping French colonies and the Fleet out of German hands if at all possible, which he managed quite well until his untimely death in 1941 in a plane crash in southern France. One Annexe secrète, of 4 November 1941 (so after many meetings over many months), decided that the Germans had ‘certain intentions’ on French colonies. First, they were deliberately running down what was left of the French 2 HUMILIATION, COLLABORATION, RESISTANCE, LIBERATION … 47 airforce; second, other military and strategic materials were being confis- cated (as ‘spoils of war’); third, few POWs, except train drivers the Ger- mans needed to deport French workers (and Jews) were being released. In addition, Alsace-Lorraine was being denuded of its young men, drafted into the SS and the Wehrmacht, indeed in effect ‘annexed’. France was also being asked to pay for ‘occupation expenses’. By the end of Novem- ber 1941 the Annexe(s) secrète(s) were warning that German members of the French Foreign Legion were being demanded to fill the gaps of the meat grinder of the Eastern Front, that French citizens were being pushed out of their homes all over France and there was a real fear expressed that France was heading for an ‘economic catastrophe similar to that experienced by Germany 20 years ago’. The economic negotiations by then were being led on the French side by Maurice Couve de Murville, who was to flee to Algiers in June 1943 and join de Gaulle’s Government in Exile as Commissioner of Finance.86 De Murville was to be de Gaulle’s Foreign Minister from 1958–1968. There were still millions of French POWs in Germany by 1945. Vichy propaganda encouraged and exploited these dilemmas to the full. Once de Gaulle had raised the flag of resistance in London the Vichy response was to tar de Gaulle as a British collaborator, a relatively easy task after the bitterness engendered by the perceived defeat and abandonment of France at Dunkirk, the withdrawal of Spitfire squadrons in June 1940 and the subsequent sinking of the French fleet at Mers-el-Kébir on 3 July 1940. Von Stülpnagel made the most of this event in his discussions with Huntziger, which did lead to the creation of ‘un climat nouveau’ but one that Huntziger realised was being used by Germany to ‘exploit the situation to their advantage against Great Britain’.87 In a typical letter to Darlan, of December 1940, by a member of the public, Georges Mahé, the writer welcomed collaboration with Germany as the only way to ‘attenuate the consequences of the defeat’, but also to counter the always negative influence of Britain, which had been plotting the demise of the French Empire since at least 1893. Such conspiracy theory was rife throughout France at this stage of the war and gave Vichy a certain legitimacy even among those who loathed many of its officials like Pierre Laval. Laval was to succeed Darlan in April 1942 as Vichy Prime Minister. Darlan can be seen as an early victim of the ‘cleansing’ [épuration] undertaken by the Resistance, being assassinated in his case in Algiers on 24 December 1942 after trying to distance himself from Vichy.88 Laval collaborated to the end and was executed on 15 October 48 A. J. WILLIAMS

1945. His daughter Josée Laval forever more saw him as a martyr of an attempt to save France from Bolshevik inﬂuence. Another supporter from his Vichy period, Admiral Auphan, turned the language of collaboration on its head by claiming that the Marshall and Laval had tried to ‘organise the French masses who opposed a communist occupation [organiser une masse de Français décidés à résister à une occupation communiste]’.89

Vichy Diplomacy Until the German defeats in Russia, notably Stalingrad from late 1942– February 1943, there could be some justification for taking seriously German claims of a Neuordnung in Europe. The diplomatic personnel who, initially at least, stayed in post and sent Vichy encouraging reports engaged in much speculation about whether this was feasible. One report concerned the Ligue du Gothard formed in neutral Switzerland by the future celebrated academic Denis de Rougement among others on 30 June 1940 to oppose any collaboration with Germany. Vichy’s anglophile ambassador in Bern, le Compte de la Baume, opined that ‘it is undoubtedly the case that idealistic, but practical, Switzerland does not intend to ignore [bouder] the New Order if this installs itself in Europe, even in the most tenuous form’. They may not give up ‘the smallest sliver of their national independence… [but they will]… adapt themselves to the new Europe’.90 De la Baume was, like many Vichy officials, unsure which way the war would go, unsure about whether to trust the British after Mers-el-Kébir and was, in Peter Mangold’s words, ‘baffled as to whether London wanted to keep Pétain or destroy his Government.’ For Man- gold it was Pierre Laval who finally decided Vichy on the collaboration route, snuffing out any possible chance of a channel with London. From November 1940 Desmond Morton, Churchill’s then main liaison with France, only dealt with the Free French, and especially de Gaulle.91 The Ligue, led by the above-mentioned Denis de Rougement, may have initially been significant mainly for Switzerland, as it created a strong internal bulwark against the ambiguously National-Socialist inclinations of the Swiss head of the Département Fédérale (Foreign Ministry) and, in 1940, President, Marcel Pilet-Golaz. De Rougement was in effect an early résistant, and forced into a long American exile by the Swiss Gov- ernment where he was a key member of the Francophone intelligentsia, what Emmanuelle Loyer has termed Paris à New York.92 He lived there for seven years working for the Free French news agency. A subsequent 2 HUMILIATION, COLLABORATION, RESISTANCE, LIBERATION … 49 attempt by de la Baume to persuade Admiral Darlan (also Vichy’s For- eign Minister, 1940–1942) that Pilet-Golaz was a full ‘partisan de l’ordre nouveau’ also had to admit that the Swiss Foreign Service, as well as their Services de renseignement were all ‘anglophiles… and some were even Gaullists’.93 Switzerland stayed neutral throughout the war, an important fact given that Bern proved to be a major location for subsequent secret meetings between various German factions (including Himmler at one point) and Allen Dulles of the OSS. Switzerland’s strategic position was also of vital importance for the Axis and the Allies.94 Other countries were reported as being significantly pro-German as a result of other ‘Anglophile’ propaganda activities, notably Portugal, where Vichy had one of its most solid overseas representations. Alas, for Vichy at least, the European countries most prone to sign up to Hitler’s Neuordnung were reported by Vichy’s representative in Sofia as being those where France had had most influence before 1940, the states of the Petite Entente. Bulgaria, Hungary and Romania, as well as the German protectorates of Croatia and Slovakia, were now members of the ‘Tripar- tite Pact’, the original signatories on 27 September 1940 of which were Germany, Italy and Japan. Germany was seen as a ‘liberator’, Hungary’s leadership now saying it could stand up to the ‘diktats of Paris’. Prob- lems were already emerging, with Bulgaria feeling threatened by Antones- cu’s idea of a ‘Greater Romania’ after annexing Transylvania (now called Moldova).95 Turkey was variously portrayed by Vichy diplomats as bending towards the ‘new’, that is to say Vichy, France, or being swayed by Anglo-Saxon propaganda. Backed up by an enormous amount of analysis of the Turk- ish press, Jean Helleu, Vichy’s Ambassador to Ankara, said Turkey was a country that had harboured a great deal of affection for France in the past. But the feelings of Turks after France had ‘collapsed like a pack of cards’ in 1940 had confused everyone. Some reports in the Turkish Press were now asserting that France ‘should be one of the principal supports [assises] of the new [German] order’, and that the Americans and British had seriously miscalculated. For Germany, asserted Yunus Nadi in the French language, and virulently anti-semitic La République,had not been hard on France.96 Other journalists, like Ehren Onchaklighil in Son Posta, a moderate liberal paper, asked why if this was the case the Wiesbaden talks had still come to nothing. Helleu liked to report that the Anglophile press was critical of Anglo-Saxon Government attitudes.97 But the overall sentiment expressed was that France could not hope to gain 50 A. J. WILLIAMS its influence back in the area while ‘Gaullists’ and ‘Anglo-Saxons’ spread their anti-Vichy poison.

From Collaboration to Resistance

As we have seen, only a few thousand had ‘rallied’ to de Gaulle in Lon- don in 1940 or elsewhere. In 1940 there were originally no colonies or territories of the French Empire who did so. Benoist-Méchin’s cry on behalf of Vichy that ‘we are defeated, crushed! We are nothing’. [Nous sommes vaincus, écrasés, anéanties! Nous ne sommes plus rien]’ was not the message that de Gaulle was voicing in London.98 But even he was struggling to get over the right message to his putative allies in London and Washington. As outlined above, de Gaulle’s initial name for his Gov- ernment in Exile in Brazzaville (established on 27 October 1940) was the Conseil de défense de l’Empire. This was not well received in a generally anti-colonial United States. Name changes duly followed, probably in deference to American doubts about supporting any ‘empire’, though de Gaulle put a great deal of faith in a wider France to save La Métropole.This body thus became the Comité national français (CNF) on 24 September 1941, and changed again to La France Combattante (usually referred to in English as the ‘Free French’) on 13 July 1942. This body oversaw the relations of Free France with Allied Govern- ments and also attempted to coordinate the French Resistance within France, the FFI. The forces that arrived in France after D-Day were organised under the overall leadership of de Gaulle in the Comité Française de Libération Nationale (CFLN), founded on 3 June 1943. In addition to this confusing parade of titles, coordination was frequently rendered difficult by competition between factions within these organisms, some of which disliked or even distrusted de Gaulle. It has been noted that although de Gaulle himself had no resistance group of his own and was indeed distrusted in some measure by all of them as well as by the Allies, he progressively persuaded those that owed allegiance to different political persuasions to recognize his international prestige as useful for uniting them all. Mathew Cobb comments that it was his use of the ‘action of both the Allies and the Resistance … to realise his vision of a re-born France under his command… [is] one of history’s sharper ironies…’99 As historians like Wieviorka and Kedward have shown, the idea of ‘resistance’ was both slow to develop after June 1940 and many facetted 2 HUMILIATION, COLLABORATION, RESISTANCE, LIBERATION … 51 in its different elements and manifestations.100 Some sections of society felt immediately and directly threatened by the Nazi occupation, like members of the French Communist Party and Jewish citizens, especially after the passing of the Vichy anti-semitic laws on 4 October 1940. These were haphazardly applied at first (and only to ‘foreign’ Jews) but soon became universally oppressive, led by the Commissariat aux Affaires Juives, directed first by Xavier Vallat and then, after April 1942, by Louis Darquier de Pellepoix. Neither can we exculpate Pétain from blame for the harshness of these laws, as he was the one who imposed them, before the Germans even asked him to do so, and moreover he was considered to be the ‘most harsh’ in his intentions. They were applied with ‘emu- lative zeal’ in Jackson’s words.101 There was little option but to resist if the alternative was deportation to Auschwitz, even if many did not realise that this was what was being planned for them. One way of explaining the slow change among the less affected population is through the confusion felt by many patriotic French people about where their loyalties ought to lie. Renée Poznanski suggests that in 1941, ‘[f]or public opinion, the enemy was Germany and the main danger was French subservience to Germany; but patriotism and Ger- manophobia did not rule out support for Marshall Pétain and his efforts to reconstruct France.’ This is what she calls, using Jean-Pierre Azéma’s phrase, a ‘Maréchalisme de base’, a fundamental belief in the Marshall. She also quotes a resistance document of the same period that ended with ‘Long live France! Long live Pétain and de Gaulle!’102 The move to resistance as an alternative way of addressing the widely felt humiliation of the occupation was slow and took different people at different paces. Many of course never joined the Resistance, a shame that continues to haunt France today. But many did, eventually. For example, many of the officers that dealt with the German occupying forces reacted in time by rejecting Vichy and turning to a more or less violent form of resistance, often linked after 1942 to the Organisation Métropolitaine de l’Armée. This happened within Vichy, not from the outside. Often this process of passing from collaboration to resistance equated to simply defecting across the Chan- nel to London, or to North Africa. In some cases, this happened actually through Vichy itself. General Henri Giraud escaped from a POW camp in Germany and passed by Vichy to tell the Marshal that he was going 52 A. J. WILLIAMS to fight the Germans. Laval urged him to give himself up to the Ger- mans, which would have certainly led to his execution. General Eisen- hower secretly asked him to take command of French forces in North Africa as part of Allied preparations for Operation Torch in early Novem- ber 1942 and he was transported to Africa by a British submarine. In a piece of theatre protocol typical of Roosevelt’s anti-Gaullist and ultimately unproductive support of Vichy as the ‘legitimate’ power in North Africa, Admiral Darlan, Vichy’s first Foreign Minister, and the highest-ranking Vichy official in the area, was declared Head of Government. Giraud became first of all Darlan’s Army Commander and then, after Darlan’s assassination on 24 December 1942, Head of French forces in Northern Africa. He and de Gaulle struck up an uneasy relationship as co-Presidents of the CFLN, and both represented France at the Casablanca Conference in January 1943 with Roosevelt and Churchill. Giraud ceded full control to de Gaulle in November 1943.103 There is evidence that Roosevelt was trying to manipulate French opinion and its emerging new leadership from afar based solely on his prejudice against de Gaulle, largely stimulated by Admiral Leahy and Cordell Hull, who both loathed him.104 Not long after the landings, on 8 November 1942, Roosevelt’s Secretary of War Henry Stimson confided to his ‘Diary’ that American troops were involved in direct fighting with French troops in Northern Africa after the launch of Operation Torch the same day. These were not troops obedient to de Gaulle, but to Vichy and the fighting was quite short lived, if embarrassing. There is evidence that had the ‘invaders’ been British the fighting might have been more severe as the local troops had still not forgiven or forgotten Mers-el-Kébir. Stim- son’s comment was that ‘I am very sorry for Pétain…. But he got off on the wrong tack at the time of the fall of France… [and] from that first step has come all of the agonized trouble for France out of the Vichy regime.’105 Stimson recalled a subsequent conversation with Secretaries Hull and Knox, ‘one of the most important talks that I can remember’. Giraud was hardly mentioned, and all of the discussion centered on de Gaulle, who had been ‘constant trouble’, and who now risked destroying what was left of the delicate balancing act that Hull felt he had had to carry on with Vichy. He had ‘succeeded for a long time in preventing Pétain and Laval from being hostile to us’, as well as stopping German troops being more firmly implanted in Northern Africa.106 What this illustrates is that neither the Allies nor the French population were fully ready to accept de Gaulle 2 HUMILIATION, COLLABORATION, RESISTANCE, LIBERATION … 53 as undisputed leader of French forces in late 1942. It also illustrates that Roosevelt was being forced against his own better judgement to accept de Gaulle as key leader of the Free French. The pain of this process was never forgiven or forgotten by de Gaulle. Kedward has stressed that within France itself early resistance often developed in the ‘Free Zone’, thus before the end of 1942, and where there were few German troops at the time.107 Only some of them supported de Gaulle, though they tended to share his conservative, nationalist views. Others resisted for ideological reasons, as was the case with the Communists in France after June 1941. Or they resisted out of desire for sheer survival, as did many Jewish French citizens. After February 1943 a powerful incentive to join the Resistance was to escape deportation to Germany as part of the Service de Travail Obligatoire brokered by Laval. Laval later excused himself by saying from his prison cell in 1945, ‘Que pouvais-je faire d’autre?’ [what else could I have done?].108 By 1945 this was not an acceptable excuse to make for collaboration, for he had identified himself as ‘committed to the New Order’. In an echo of the debate about what French ‘fascism’ was, those who were still collaborating in the latter parts of the war had made their choice: as Gordon puts it, ‘not all French fascists in 1940 became collaborators, but by 1944 all collabora- tionists had become fascists.’109 As Vichy itself realized, it could never become a focus for a national alternative to either Germany or the ‘Anglo-Saxon’ powers until it was allowed some independence of action. Even as early as late 1941, when Germany was seemingly winning the war, it was losing legitimacy. A summary of views gathered from across Vichy showed that a combination of the evolving international situation, the declaration of war by Germany and Japan on the United States, and the deteriorating relationship of the population with the occupiers, revealed that the ‘population in the occupied zone was now overcoming its reticence’ [sortir… de sa réserve]. This was leading to a ‘real renaissance of national sentiment’, but not to the benefit of Vichy because Vichy did ‘not dispose of sufficient authority in the zone… which could become a focus for a national revival [regroup- ment des ésprits]’.110 54 A. J. WILLIAMS

France in Exile, 1941--1943: Gaullists and Socialists

Nonetheless, slowly but surely, after 1941 the ‘Free French’ started to think about the future of the world after the war. They did this in number of fora, so many indeed that even the most assiduous historian of the Free French can be forgiven for finding it all a bit of an alphabet soup. The main French (and by no means solely, though predominantly, Gaullist) representative committee was the French National Committee (Comité national français (CNF)), which met at 4 Carlton Gardens Lon- don from 21 September 1941 to June 1943, claiming nominal command of the Forces Françaises de l’intérieur (FFI). At its heart was the Com- missariat de l’intérieur de Londres. Its membership was initially made up of de Gaulle, René Pleven (in whom de Gaulle vested his authority as National Commissioner for the Economy, Finance, the Colonies and For- eign Affairs), the distinguished jurist René Cassin, the diplomat Maurice Dejean (Commissioner for Political Affairs, who found de Gaulle a difficult master), André Diethelm (the Commissioner for Finance) and military figures Vice Admiral Emile Muselier (who became head of the Free French naval forces) and General Charles Vallin. It met first in London and then in Algiers after the liberation of French North Africa. Some of these, like Vallin, were not welcomed by other sections of the Free French, as having been seen as recent ‘collaborators’. He was a former member of the Vichy Government and even of proto-fascist movements like the pre-war Croix-de-Feu, described by the French socialists in London (see next section) as ‘la seule organisation considérable d’inspiration fasciste’. Vallin, who had been stating that ‘[q]ui trahit Pétain, trahit la France’ as recently as November 1940, turned up in London swearing undying allegiance to de Gaulle in September 1942 and had promptly been admitted as a member of the CNF.111 Other members of the CNF were viewed with suspicion by the Allies. The British had arrested Admiral Muselier for suspected espionage in early 1941, and were greatly annoyed by his role in the St. Pierre et Miquelon affair. Although de Gaulle himself felt that the Admiral was an ‘insufferable busybody’ and fell out with him over Muselier’s support for General Giraud in 1943, Kersaudy says he was furious that the British authorities were arresting his admirals. But Muselier had also resisted de Gaulle’s leadership of the CNF in September 1941, seen as a ploy by the British to reduce his power, which it was, and which backfired on the British: Eden, never a fan of de Gaulle, said ‘this is very unpleasant. Our intention was to compel de Gaulle to accept a 2 HUMILIATION, COLLABORATION, RESISTANCE, LIBERATION … 55 suitable council. All we have done is to compel Muselier and Co. to submit themselves to de Gaulle.’112 De Gaulle had to deal with some serious disaffection in the ranks, which he saw as partly inspired by the British. So given our particular focus on French relations with its allies, we can still see the Commissariat de l’intérieur de Londres as largely reflecting the broader Free French feeling about both de Gaulle and that they were being ignored by their Anglo-Saxon Allies, or even worse on occasion. This led to a combination of bitterness, paranoia and wishful thinking. In one document of late 1943 within the Commissariat files there is a deeply bitter comment that went beyond regretting that France could have no hope of influencing the post-war settlement. This was in spite of ‘La France’having‘sauvé l’Empire britannique en 1914 par des sacrifices humaines qui auraient du pour des generations lui conférer une créance du 1ère ordre’.113 But other documents claimed that America was what they called ‘un pays profondément désunie’, comparing Roosevelt’s position, somewhat incongruously, with that of Léon Blum in the Front Populaire Government of 1936. There were forces in the United States, they felt sure, who ‘preferred Hitler to him’. Roosevelt, went this line of argument had thus been forced into the war, and that despite huge anti-British feeling. They concluded that what Roosevelt had to achieve was ‘une victoire américaine, afin d’imposer au monde une paix améri- caine [emphasis in original]’. The most interesting, and largely incorrect, observation was that there was no ‘solidarité anglo-saxonne’, this was ‘un mythe’. Most worryingly of all they decided the State Department was profoundly ‘germanophile’. The Americans would try and impose their views through ‘trade agreements [accords commerciaux]’ and deliberately try and stop any alliance post-war between Britain and France. Britain therefore had need of a ‘France forte’ to stand up to the United States, as well as a strong alliance with Russia.114 These somewhat paranoid feelings were to some extent justified by what happened in Washington from 1940 onwards. In a preliminary meeting that was to lead to the process known as ‘Post-War Planning’ (PWP,aprocessanalysedatlengthinChapter3) between the most important American think-tank, the Council on Foreign Relations (CFR) and the State Department in early 1940, the State Department had written off France entirely; should it be defeated (and it shortly was) it would be ‘left [by Germany as] a primarily agricultural economy, producing of course luxury goods’.115 That blanket dismissive attitude never entirely disappeared, and we can find constant traces of the resulting humiliation 56 A. J. WILLIAMS felt by both the Free French leadership in London, Algiers and Washing- ton as the war went on. In such an atmosphere of mutual dislike conspiracy theories were bound to thrive.

The SFIO and the Groupe Jean Jaurès116 As mentioned earlier, other key elements of the Resistance, even in their London exile, were often not united behind de Gaulle. Not all members of the French Socialist Party (SFIO) were even in favour of Resistance initially. As Fanny Emmanuelle Rey points out, they were split ‘unequally… between the Resistance and collaboration’. Notable socialists who made a key input into wider Free French activities were Auriol, André Tixier, André Philip, Henry Hauck and Georges Boris, Commissioner for the Interior after 1942. Boris fell out with other socialists in London over his support for de Gaulle, notably Georges Gombault.117 During the war itself Henri Hauck advised de Gaulle about labour matters from 1940 onwards and André Philip was de Gaulle’s Commissaire de l’Interieur (Minister of the Interior) from July 1942–November 1943 in succession to René Cassin. There were attempts to set up a separate ‘Comité d’Action Socialiste’ by Daniel Mayer (aka ‘Villiers’), Van Wolpert (aka ‘Boseman’) and Henri Ribière, as a distinctive Resistance organisation, but such efforts tended to end up with local cooperation between Com- munists, Gaullists and other groups in particular areas, in this case calling itself Libération Nord.118 They were initially determined to resist the anti- parliamentarian and even anti-Republican tendencies that they perceived in de Gaulle’s attitudes and can be said to have continued the traditions of the 1936 Front Populaire in their reverence for its main architect, and the SFIO leader in capitivity, Léon Blum.119 The SFIO was represented in all of the Free French organizations and individual members of the party played key roles in the French approach to post-war planning but had no named Resistance group of its own in mainland France, unlike the French Communist Party (PCF) and the Gaullists. They were aware that this had led to the false impression (‘la grosse, trop grosse reputation du Parti Communiste dans la Résistance’) that the PCF actually led the internal Resistance.120 Largely absent in the ‘occupied zone’, they did slowly create a presence in the ‘free zone’ and even held a secret Congress of the party there in June 1941, as well as helping with sabotage operations on an as yet limited scale.121 They also 2 HUMILIATION, COLLABORATION, RESISTANCE, LIBERATION … 57 set up a much more notable network in Algiers once the French Govern- ment in exile moved there in November 1942 after Operation Torch. Socialists’ views tended to be determined as much by whether they were impressed by de Gaulle, or rather saw him as a Boulangist,orpoten- tial military dictator in waiting. It also depended on whether they were mainly based in France itself or in exile. As mentioned above, Philip was a prominent member of de Gaulle’s councils, and had a major disagreement about that with the more radical SFIO members in London. He, and others like Mayer who spent a lot of time fighting in the Resistance in France, were worried about the slowness of the move towards democracy in the Free French movement, but accepted the overwhelming need for discipline in the face of an implacable enemy and sceptical Allies. They were thus prepared to cooperate with de Gaulle and even to help him in the knowledge that Gaullism was now ‘in full control’ [c’est le Gaullisme qui l’emporte], though ‘making progress towards democracy’; they should be ‘prudent’ and show ‘patience’.122 As a result many of them did work with de Gaulle in what finally became the Conseil National de la Résistance (CNR) on 15 March 1944 and were very influential in the elaboration of the CNR’s final blueprint programme, as well as in subsequent elaborations of the idea that programme contained. This was very manifest in the many French Govern- ments that succeeded one another after the declaration of the Fourth Republic in early 1946 and in SFIO Congresses after the war as ‘reconstruction’ got under way in Europe (see Chapter 4). There were some very deep divisions among the SFIO over policy. However the ideas that were collectively arrived at are both interesting in their own right, and also for how they related to analogous American and British thinking about PWP and IR more generally.123

Planning the Peace Among the Free French

The key problem for the Free French was their seeming exclusion from the American PWP process that will be more fully described in Chapter 3. Any planning they did felt like it was taking place in a vacuum. The examples of how this was perceived as being ‘humiliating’ are legion. Both in London and later in Algiers, the French tended to learn about developments from journalists accredited in Washington. Thus, for example, Barner Nover in the Washington Post, was reported to have heard from 58 A. J. WILLIAMS

Sumner Welles in March 1943 that the United States wanted to establish ‘un système de collaboration internationale économique’,124 but that there was no detailed programme as yet. Although de Gaulle was constantly informed of the broad thrust of American intentions by his staff in Washington, they generally were using a combination of publicly available sources, hints from the State Department and some inspired guesswork. Certain constants in Free French thinking emerged quite quickly sum- marised in a report for de Gaulle in April 1943. First, there would be no ‘return to normalcy’, with explicit mention made on countless occasions both of the world established by the Treaty of Versailles and that of American isolationism before 1939. In particular, de Gaulle was told that it was being acknowledged in Washington that the way that problems were dealt with in 1919 showed that victorious states could no longer ‘garder les peuples vaincus dans une situation humiliée’, although that was precisely the state the Free French felt themselves to be in, and that the League of Nations had appeared as a sort of ‘Holy Alliance of the victors against the vanquished’. So peace now had to be seen as ‘une transition perpétuelle’ and it was this idea of ‘transition’ which now counted. But, as one de Gaulle correspondent asked, over what period was this ‘transition’ to take place, and how much was Europe itself to be involved in this? Forrest Davis, author of How War Came to America, was cited as feeling that Roosevelt’s instinct was for a ‘minimal’ involvement. Moreover, what ‘involvement’ could there be when Europe itself no longer had ‘any form of organised society [il n’y a plus aucune société organisée]’?125 The CNF was partially recognised at the Quebec meeting of the Big Three in August 1943, but nowhere nearly enough for the Committee’s satisfaction. The Committee’s representative, and effective Ambassador, in Washington in October 1943, Henri Hoppenot, drew some comfort from the resignation of Under-Secretary of State Welles and his probable replacement by a more neutral businessman Edward Stettinius, as well as a new appointment, that of Herbert Lehman as head of a new organisation for the relief of the Allies.126 This turned out to be the United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Administration (UNRRA). The conﬁr- mation that one of Roosevelt’s main ideas was for the economic revitali- sation of Europe, unlike in 1919, was one that was of course a reproach to French actions after the Treaty of Versailles. So was the increasing realisation in Algiers, by early 1944 (and con- ﬁrmed in July), that the United States would no longer tolerate the existence of powerful colonial administrations including, indeed especially, 2 HUMILIATION, COLLABORATION, RESISTANCE, LIBERATION … 59 those controlled by the British and French. France was being put on notice that, as with the British and ‘Lend Lease’, it might well also be asked for ‘bases’ in return for being ‘liberées par les Américains’. The representatives in Washington were not sure how far the United States would push this but if the Americans’ declarations were to be believed then the French had to accept it when Welles had said in the New York Times in October 1943 that ‘a free and stable world [un monde libre et stable]’ could not be achieved while some were in ‘slavery [l’esclavage, [be they] noirs, jaunes, bruns ou blancs’.127 The American geographer Nicholas Spykman (in America’s Strategy in World Politics)128 was cited as evidence that this would surely be the case. As Or Rosenboim has pointed out, this was part of a renewed interest in geopolitics in the United States at the beginning of the 1940s, and in effect a realisation that the war had created ‘a unique potential for international change based on geopolitical relations’.129 But as the war progressed, and even after the liberation of North Africa by the British Eighth Army and American forces, and the subsequent Casablanca Conference in January 1943, in which, as we have seen, de Gaulle participated in uneasy cooperation with Giraud, French representatives continued to be snubbed. After the Casablanca Confer- ence, de Gaulle was given more recognition as at least the effective head of what France remained outside the Metropole, but not enough to merit full inclusion in Allied decision making. The FFI and the CNF were not invited to join the European Advisory Committee (EAC) set up after the Moscow meeting of the Big Three in October 1943 (the French were excluded from this Summit meeting and all others right up to Potsdam in 1945) and only admitted to the EAC in November 1944.130 Moreover, in France’s dealings with the Allies, with the exception of Washington’s contacts with Vichy, the main channel was increasingly with de Gaulle’s representatives in both London and Washington. Until the beginning of 1945 de Gaulle, and by extension much of the Free French organisation, was disliked or even actively distrusted in Washington, and to a lesser extent in London. France was not allowed a seat, never mind parity of esteem, at the Dumbarton Oaks Conference that established the basic principles of the United Nations in August 1944 or at the Yalta and Potsdam Conferences in February and July 1945, as will be discussed in Chapter 3.131 The contrast with French ‘predominance’ (Stephen Shuk- er’s expression) at the Paris Peace Conference in 1919 could not have been starker.132 60 A. J. WILLIAMS

The Free French were kept in the dark about a great number of areas that pertained to what the Americans and British saw as vital security questions. We have noted that the British Government ignored French concerns in the Levant. But the Anglo-Saxon allies were also very cautious even about how much they told the Free French about the future liberation of France, or even, as it turned out, of French dependencies in North Africa. Sumner Welles had informed de Gaulle’s ‘Commissioner for Foreign Affairs’ (September 1941–October 1942) Maurice Dejean in August 1942 that there would be a second front in France, but then refused to tell him when or where the invasion would take place. Even worse, according to Dejean, Welles had told him that ‘Fighting France [la France Combattante] might prove an embarrassment [serait de nature a gêner dans le cas d’une operation en territoire français [in the event of an operation on French Territory]’. Assistant Secretary of War John Mac- Cloy had also told another Gaullist ofﬁcer, Pierre de Chevigné (Chief of the Free French military mission in Washington), that the Americans could quite easily forsee ignoring de Gaulle in the case of a military operation. The Free French were in other words being told that they were a military irrelevance at best, and an embarrassment at worst. The pill was a bit sweetened by the newly appointed Commander in Chief of US Naval Forces in Europe, Admiral Harold Stark, referring to de Gaulle as ‘Com- mander in Chief of the Armed Forces of Fighting France’, but not yet as a ‘Head of State’.133

Conclusion: Nation States or Global Order?

In the final meetings of the Groupe Jean Jaurès in June 1944 the main topic of the discussions were the 40–50 executions a day of résistants and civilians that were being imputed to the Nazis as they retreated after D- Day, the invasion of France on 6 June. The discussion particularly noted the activities of the French Milice, the paramilitaries who answered to French fascists like Doriot, Marcel Déat and others. These were ‘criminals the likes of which we have never seen’, who will be ‘radically suppressed’ once France was freed. Such grim predictions were not to be so total as these statements implied at the time, but the épuration [cleansing] was to be brutal enough.134 But the Free French knew that revenge alone, satisfying as it might be, would not be enough to renew France. We can see in the activities of the commissions and committees described above, and on both sides of the Atlantic, a real yearning for a different world 2 HUMILIATION, COLLABORATION, RESISTANCE, LIBERATION … 61 order after the defeat of the Axis Powers. Academics have attempted to impose some intellectual order on these discussions, but truth to say there was often a very haphazard understanding of a world that had yet to be born in the midst of one that was dying. The clearest way to explain the clash between the Anglo-Saxon powers (especially the USA) and the French is to see the contest as one between two views of international morality, one based on universal norms of international behaviour, the other based on the primacy of the state. The calls for the rules of democracy to be respected were at constant variance with the Free French desire to see France re-born as an accepted player in international politics. For de Gaulle, but also for the Free French more broadly, nothing mattered more than what has been described as the ‘mystique’, or what had been called by a Free French analyst the ‘soul’ of France. How was she, in his words ‘to refind it’? The inevitable answer was through de Gaulle.135 We therefore need to ask what it was about de Gaulle himself that made French people of many different allegiances see him as the man they could ‘rally’ round. This was a question that we have seen the American and British authorities found almost unfathomable. The answer is undoubtedly profoundly cultural. The ‘Bonapartist’ attitude of de Gaulle irritated many French people, and antagonised Amer- icans, attuned as they were (and are) to notions of equality and leaders who identify with, and confide in ‘Main Street’. French political culture leaves a big space for the ‘mystique’ofpower, even when they recognise that it will let them down, as in Charles Péguy’s celebrated (and practically untranslatable) comment, ‘tout commence en mystique et finit en politique’. Péguy’s idea of ‘mystique’ is often cited by French specialists as a key philosophical and cultural idea that was evoked by many political figures, including de Gaulle.136 We can also find a philosophical basis for the appeal of de Gaulle’s ‘mysticism’ for both his own purposes and for those of his French followers. As a number of well-placed biographers have noted de Gaulle came from a generation of French intellectuals who venerated Henri Bergson, who was probably the greatest (or best known) French philosopher of the early 1900s. He taught huge audiences at the Collège de France until 1920 and his audience included Péguy, Albert Sorel (the celebrated syndicalist theorist) as well as many others.137 Bergson rejected the idea that the intellect can grasp the real essentials of existence and in particular that it cannot cope with time, an endlessly flowing phenomenon. This fed into de Gaulle’s understanding of the need for contingency in both politics and war. He had little faith 62 A. J. WILLIAMS in pure rationality. Ironically perhaps Bergson’s greatest advocate in the United States was William James (who died in 1910) and his lecture tour of the United States in 1913 was a triumph.138 Many cultural and artistic commentators considered themselves ‘Bergsonian’ in the pre-1914 and inter-war periods, such as T. S. Eliot. In France as well as de Gaulle, Berg- son was greatly admired by Francis Mauriac and Jacques Maritain, conservatives all: Mauriac called him ‘the philosopher we listened to’. But, and maybe because of such feelings, he was despised by the extreme left (as with Georg Lukacs) and right (Charles Maurras) and even ‘indexed’ (banned) by the Vatican. The rationality of Marxism and its fascist counterparts would brook no suggestion they were not ‘inevitable’ and based on the true dialectic of Hegelian thought. De Gaulle much preferred the contingent uncertainty, even ‘mysticism’ of Bergson to what he saw as such inane certainties.139 Later on we will see American advisors suggesting in 1961 that President Kennedy should read Bergson to be able to understand the General (see Chapter 6, p. 265). For the British and American policy makers of the 1940s, ‘mystique’ had connotations of irrationality and unreality. By the 1940s Bergson’s reputation in the United States and Britain alike had become distinctly tarnished. He was a forgotten figure, and if remembered at all only as difficult or lacking the virtues of the by then predominant philosophical tradition known as ‘neo-Hegelianism’. This new current had swept the academy in both Anglo-Saxon countries, so that one of its greatest defenders in Britain, Bertrand Russell, essentially accused Bergson of anti- scientific charlatanry, a charge seemingly supported by Bergson’s argument with Einstein in 1922, where he was accused of not understanding relativity. So an anti-Bergsonian wave coincided with the arrival in global politics of one of his main acolytes. Due to the scientific and rational philosophies that have tended to dominate both British and Ameri- can philosophy and political thought, from the ‘common sense’ of G. E. Moore which so influenced John Maynard Keynes and Russell through to the dominant ‘logical positivism’ that was to see its greatest expression at the universities of London and Oxford respectively, there were few Anglo-Saxon intellectuals who could cope with Gaullist certainties. That unhappy problem was to continue well into the 1950s and 1960s. Likewise, de Gaulle had an old-fashioned notion of ‘honour’ as well as the timeless one of ‘interests’, a concept that Michael Donelan has rightly described as pre-dating the more democratic logic of Western foreign policy after the First World War. That later policy was of course embodied in 2 HUMILIATION, COLLABORATION, RESISTANCE, LIBERATION … 63

Woodrow Wilson’s ideal of a democratic foreign policy as enunciated in the 14 Points of January 1918: ‘open covenants openly arrived at’. But notwithstanding American sensibilities, and as will be demonstrated in future chapters, de Gaulle sought to embody French ‘honour’ in his person, whether one defines it as ‘virtue’, ‘gloire’ or ‘respect’. The opening line of his Mémoires de Guerre are of course ‘I have always had a certain idea of France [J’ai toujours eu une certaine idée de la France]’.140 What American politician would have dared say such a thing? The very idea is a personal one, accruing to kings, not to democratic ‘leaders’. De Gaulle considered the only way to cure France’s ‘dishonour’ was for him to lead his ‘patrie’ out of the swamp of humiliation. And he largely succeeded in that. Donelan credits his success in this endeavour in, for example, enabling him to be largely accepted as a determined French imperialist who gives away Algeria ‘because he embodied the honor of France’.141 De Gaulle never said he did, but in effect he acted out the principle of LouisXIV-‘L’Etat c’est moi’. Neither American presidents nor British prime ministers can allow themselves to say the same, they would be impeached or subject to a vote of no confidence. The counterpart to that impossibility, but one very open to a French sovereign, is that they rarely have to cope with being deposed and banished, as happened to de Gaulle twice, in January 1946 and in 1969. As another layer of understanding of the three-way relationship, and has also been suggested above, American and British views of France were not always identical. This was mainly because the British Government, and indeed most of British civil society, was still very much wedded to the idea of a post-war British Empire during the Second World War. The Atlantic Charter of August 1941 had tried to find a middle-way between a visceral distrust of empires among the majority of the policy makers in Washington and an equally visceral British attachment to their colonies, but it at best only papered over the cracks on this issue. Britain was far more convinced of the necessity of meeting the Americans half-way in the name of a much greater need for survival and the defeat of Germany. The French, and particularly de Gaulle, were not. Until the final end of empire in the 1960s this disagreement rankled in all three countries. Even while the war was being fought this led not only to constant misunderstandings at the official level, but also at the level of political culture. Hence what to the United States Government looked like a sensible reticence to share its policy thoughts with too many free-talking foreigners that might cost American lives on the battlefield, looked to the Free 64 A. J. WILLIAMS

French, and de Gaulle in particular, like a deliberate snub and humiliation of a valuable ally. So when the Free French Press and Information Ser- vice reported with some satisfaction to de Gaulle in December 1942 that American radio host Drew Pearson had said on the radio what a ‘mistake’ it was to have ‘English troops in Tunisia. There is strong French resentment against the British’, de Gaulle was delighted. Simultaneously when the Service reported Samuel Grafton on a different network saying that ‘[t]he most impressive argument for our cause in this war is a summation of the unofﬁcial Anglo-American attitude (underlined in the original): we don’t like colonialism [but] we want recognition of the Free French. This attitude … adds up to our best moral claim for victory’,142 de Gaulle thought it humbug. Even when the United States Government felt it was being generous it was viewed with suspicion. Dakar, which had been a French colonial possession, and whose resistance to Gaullist forces had dealt a humiliating rebuff for de Gaulle in 1940 had been given back to the Free French. But the Free French Information Bureau in Washington reported another American radio commentator John Daly as saying ‘but it must be remembered he [de Gaulle] is under the watchful eye of General Eisenhower.’143 Such presentation of dominance and subjugation of one ally to another may have been intended for a domestic American audience but it was interpreted as yet another humiliation by the prickly Free French and their leader. Reports like these showed the existence of a vast gulf between American and French views of the world of states and peoples after the war. It also stored up problems for future American Presidents trying to make de Gaulle believe in their bona ﬁdes. There were great misgivings among the Free French about (especially) American intentions for the world economy. There were also members of the Free French heirarchy, like those on the Commission pour l’étude des problèmes d’après guerre, a body that we will examine in the next chapter, as well as the Comité national d’études de la Résistance, who believed a post-war system of international planning could work, and they could point to Bretton Woods as evidence of that. Maybe, said others, France could act as a ‘tampon’ between the USA and the USSR?144 But there were also those like Socialist Georges Boris, and also Jean Monnet, who believed that Europe must travel its own road, without either the USA or the USSR, and with a possible ally in the UK. This is essentially the blueprint that de Gaulle implemented in his period as French President after 1958. Alas, in his view, by then the British had sold out to the United 2 HUMILIATION, COLLABORATION, RESISTANCE, LIBERATION … 65

States and could not be part of his alternative French global order. But that was in the future. In 1943–1944 Germany had still to be defeated and France had still to be liberated. Broadly speaking the evolution of France’s relationship with Britain and the United States over the period examined in this volume was to be articulated round three ‘baskets’ of issues. This word is carefully chosen as each of the baskets were related to one another and very fluid in the way they overlapped and interpenetrated. They threw up very different ways of thinking about the substance and conceptualisation of international relations and those ways of thinking and acting have their strong echoes to the present day. The first examines the process by which the question of a future international order was planned and thought about and is the main subject of the next chapter. The second, Chapter 4, examines the way in which Europe, East and West was to be reconfigured. The third, the future of relations among states and peoples outside Europe, is the subject of Chapter 5.

Notes

1. For an interesting interpretation of the wider implications of the term ‘humiliation’ in international relations, see Bertrand Badie, Le temps des humiliés: Pathologie des relations internationales (Paris: Odile Jacob, 2014); [trans.] Humiliation in International Relations: A Pathology of Contemporary International Systems (London: Hart, 2017). 2. A good, brief, summary in English can be found in Martin Alexan- der, ‘The Fall of France, 1940’, Journal of Strategic Studies, Vol. 13, No. 1, March 1990; Longer treatments like Julian Jackson, France: The Dark Years, 1940–1944 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001); John T. Greenwood, The Blitzkreig Legend: The 1940 Campaign in the West (Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 2005); and Ernest May, Strange Victory: Hitler’s Conquest of France (London: I.B. Tauris, 2009). An eyewitness account by the senior British liaison ofﬁcer with the French High Command can be found in Edward J. Spears, The Fall of France (London: Heinemann, 1954). 3. Max Werner, The Military Strength of the Powers (London: Gollancz- New Left Book Club, 1939), pp. 207 and 213. 4. Sudhir Hazareesingh, In the Shadow of the General: Modern France and the Myth of de Gaulle (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012). 5. Denis de Rougemont, Amour et Occident (Paris: 10/18, 1956, 2001) (1st edition 1938), pp. 263 and 300. 66 A. J. WILLIAMS

6. Jan T. Gross, ‘Themes for a Social History of War Experience and Col- laboration’, in István Deák, Jan T. Gross, and Tony Judt (eds.), The Poli- tics of Retribution in Europe: World War II and Its Aftermath (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2000), pp. 24–25. 7. For a general history of French collaboration see Bertram M. Gordon, Collaborationism in France During the Second World War (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1980). The best account in French is probably: Henri Amouroux, Les beaux jours des collabos: Juin 1941–juin 1942 (Vol- ume 3 of his La Grande Histoire des Français sous l’occupation) (Paris: Robert Laffont, 1978). 8. Among many summaries, a particularly good short one is: Olivier Wiev- iorka, ‘A` la recherche de l’engagement (1940–1944)’, Vingtième Siècle: Revue d’histoire, October–December 1998, pp. 58–70. In English, see Jackson, The Dark Years, pp. 601–632. 9. Serge Klarsfeld, Vichy-Auschwitz: Le rôle de Vichy dans la solution ﬁnale de la question juive en France, 1942 (Paris: Fayard, 1983). 10. Henri Rousso, The Vichy Syndrome: History and Memory in France Since 1944 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1991). 11. Sibylle Scheipers, Unlawful Combatants: A Genealogy of the Irregular Fighter (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015), p. 105. 12. De Rougemont, Amour et Occident; published in English as: Love and the Western World (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1983) and during the war under the same title (New York: Pantheon Books, 1940). 13. In Sartre’s case most clearly illustrated by his novel trilogy, Les Chemins de la Liberté, ﬁrst published in French in 1945 (L’Age de la Raison, Le Sursis and La mort dans L’Ame all Paris: Gallimard, 1947). In English, The Roads to Freedom (London: Penguin Classics, 2001). 14. Antoine de St-Exupéry, Ecrits de Guerre (Paris: Gallimard, 1994), Préface by Raymond Aron, ‘1939’, p. 17. I have used this edition. In English: Wartime Writings, 1939–1944 (New York, NY: Harcourt, 1986). 15. St-Exupéry, Ecrits de Guerre, radio broadcast of 18 October 1939, p. 25. 16. Frantz Fanon’s, Les damnés de la terre (Paris: François Maspéro 1961); The Wretched of the Earth (London: Penguin, 1967). 17. Bertrand Badie, ‘Toward a Theory of Weakness Politics: Does Weakness Rule the World?’ Global Society: Journal of Interdisciplinary International Relations, Vol. 32, No. 2, April 2018, pp. 139–148. 18. For what the Nazi regime wanted for its new order, see Mark Mazower, ‘National Socialism and the Search for International Order’, Bulletin of the German Historical Institute, Vol. 50, Spring 2002, pp. 9–26, and ‘Hitler’s New Order, 1939–45’, Diplomacy and Statecraft,Vol.7,No. 1, March 1996, pp. 29–53. 2 HUMILIATION, COLLABORATION, RESISTANCE, LIBERATION … 67

19. Mazower, ‘National Socialism and the Search for International Order’, p. 10. See also Tony Judt, Past Imperfect: French Intellectuals, 1944–1956 (New York: New York University Press, 2011). 20. His most famous works of the 1930s are: Louis-Ferdinand Céline, Voyage au bout de la nuit (Paris: Editions Denöel, 1932); Mort à Crédit (Paris: Gallimard, 1972). This was originally published by Editions Denöel, Paris, 1936. The publisher Robert Denöel was killed in a probable ‘settlement of accounts’ by a member of the Resistance on 1 December 1945 in rue de Grenelle in Paris. The best recent biography of Céline is: Yves Buin, Céline (Paris: Folio, 2009). 21. See Jackson, A Certain Idea of France: The Life of General de Gaulle (London: Allen Lane, 2015), pp. 54–57 and Chapter 4 (on 1932–1939). Other key French intellectuals belonged to the loose orbit of this group, for which de Gaulle had a certain afﬁnity, and some ended up his bitter enemies during the war, like journalist Robert Brassilach, whom de Gaulle sentenced to death in 1945; Williams: ‘Charles de Gaulle: The Warrior as Statesman’, Global Society: Journal of Interdisciplinary Inter- national Relations, Vol. 32, No. 2, April 2018, pp. 162–175, and [for ordre nouveau]: ‘The IR That Dare Not Speak Its Name: The French Extreme (and Not So Extreme) Right in the 1930s and Its Lessons from and to the History of Thought in IR’, in Ian Hall (ed.), Radicals and Reactionaries in Twentieth Century International Thought (London: Pal- grave Macmillan, 2015), pp. 101–122. 22. Debra Kelly and Martyn Cornick (eds.), A History of the French in London: Liberty, Equality, Opportunity (London: Institute of Historical Research, 2013) (esp. Chapter 13, Martyn Cornick ‘“The First Bastion of the Resistance”: The Beginnings of the Free French in London, 1940– 1’, and Chapter 14, David Drake, ‘Raymond Aron and La France Libre’ (June 1940–September 1944). 23. Aron, quoting Maritain, in: St-Exupéry, Ecrits de Guerre, 1939–1944 (Paris: Gallimard, 1984), pp. 11–13; Raymond Aron, Croire en la Démocratie, 1933–1944 (Paris: Pluriel, 2017). On Aron’s role see Rosen- boim, The Emergence of Globalism, pp. 25–28, and Chapter 4, ‘Europe’ of this book. 24. Henry Luce, ‘The American Century’, Life, 17 February 1941, p. 63. 25. Douglas C. Dildey, Dunkirk 1940: Operation Dynamo (Oxford: Osprey, 2010); Richard Overy, The Battle of Britain experience (London: Carlton, 2010). 26. Gabriel Gorodetky (ed.), The Maisky Diaries: The Wartime Revelations of Stalin’s Ambassador to London (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2016). 68 A. J. WILLIAMS

27. ‘Position of the United States in the Event of the Defeat of France and Britain in the European War’, October 1939 and Treasury correspondence, esp. Keynes to Waley, 16 October 1939 and FO to Lothian (Washington) 2 November 1939, T 160/1105/16266. 28. Lothian to Berle, 29 February 1940: Berle Papers, Box 65, Roo- sevelt Presidential Library, Hyde Park, New York [Hereafter Roosevelt Library]. 29. Charlie Whitham, ‘On Dealing with Gangsters: The Limits of British “Generosity” in the Leasing of Bases to the United States, 1940–41’, Diplomacy and Statecraft, Vol. 7, No. 3, November 1996, pp. 589– 630; Douglas Brinkley and David Facey-Crowther (eds.), The Atlantic Charter (London: Macmillan, 1994). 30. Stephen Wertheim, quoting R. M. Douglas, The Labour Party, Nation- alism and Internationalism, 1939–1951, pp. 107–108, in ‘Instrumental Internationalism: The American Origins of the United Nations, 1940–3’, Journal of Contemporary History, Vol. 54, No. 2, April 2019, pp. 265– 283. 31. This ‘revisionist’ history has been led by: David Edgerton, Britain’s War Machine: Weapons, Resources and Experts in the Second World War (Lon- don: Allen Lane, 2011); Philipps Payson O’Brien, HowtheWarWas Won: Air-Sea Power and Allied Victory in World War II (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), for Britain see, esp. pp. 33–45. Richard Overy’s, The Bombing War: Europe 1939–45 (London: Allen Lane, 2013) takes a somewhat less sanguine view of the decisiveness of air power than O’Brien. 32. Philippe Burrin, La France à l’heure allemande, 1940–1944 (Paris: Seuil, 1995). 33. The literature on the French Resistance is of course vast. One good place to start is: Olivier Wieviorka, The French Resistance (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2016); see also Mathew Cobb, The French Resistance: The French Fight Against the Nazis (London: Simon and Schuter, 2010); H. R. Kedward, In Search of the Maquis: Rural Resis- tance in Southern France, 1942–1944 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993); and Jackson, The Dark Years. For life in France, see Richard Vinen, The Unfree French: Life Under the Occupation (London: Penguin, 2007). 34. Pierre Messmer and Alain Larcan, Les écrits militaires de Charles de Gaulle (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1985), p. 7. For de Gaulle’s military writings pre-1940, see Charles de Gaulle, Le Fil de L’épée et autres écrits (Paris: Plon, 1990). 35. 338,326 Allied soldiers in all are estimated to have been taken off the beaches. 36. Jacques Mordal, Dunkerque (Paris: Ed. France-Empire, 1968). 37. Jackson, The Dark Years, p. 118. 2 HUMILIATION, COLLABORATION, RESISTANCE, LIBERATION … 69

38. The debate started during the war itself, with Marc Bloch, Strange Defeat: A Statement of Evidence Written in 1940 (London: Oxford Uni- versity Press, 1948, and New York: W. W. Norton, 1999) [In French, ﬁrst published in 1946: L’Étrange Défaite, (Paris: Gallimard, 1990)]. Carole Fink, Marc Bloch: A Life in History (Cambridge University Press, 1989). A counter argument is: Ernest May, Strange Victory: Hitler’s Con- quest of France (London: I.B. Tauris, 2009). See also Peter Jackson, Beyond the Balance of Power: France and the Politics of National Security in the Era of the First World War (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013). 39. A topic still capable of provoking deep feelings of anger and betrayal in France. One good recent treatment is: Dominique Lormier, Mers el- Kébir: Juillet 1940 (Paris: Calman-Levy, 2007). 40. Gavin Bailey, The Arsenal of Democracy, Aircraft Supply and the Evolu- tion of the Anglo-American Alliance, 1938–1942 (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2013). 41. Martin Gilbert in discussion with Warren Kimball, International Churchill Society, PBS Broadcast, 2010, https://www.winstonchurchill. org/resources/in-the-media/churchill-in-the-news/destroying-the- french-ﬂeet/ (accessed 25 February 2018). 42. Martin Thomas, The French Empire at War, 1940–45 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1998), pp. 75–84; David Lippman, ‘De- bacle at Dakar’, WWII History, July 2011, pp. 48–55. 43. Thomas, The French Empire at War, pp. 57–60. 44. Jean Lacouture, De Gaulle: The Rebel, 1890–1944 (London: Harper- Collins, 1993), pp. 271–272. 45. David Woolner, ‘Canada, Mackenzie King and the St. Pierre and Miquelon Crisis of 1941’, London Journal of Canadian Studies, Vol. 24, 2010; Thomas, The French Empire at War, pp. 133–139; J. F. Hilliker, ‘The Canadian Government and the Free French: Perceptions and Con- straints, 1940–44’, International History Review, Vol. 2, 1980, pp. 87– 108. 46. American Consul, Saint Pierre-Miquelon to State Department, 10 Jan- uary 1942, FDR, PSF-Dispatches-France, Box 31, Roosevelt Library. 47. De Gaulle two versions, the one initially sent and the recorded version. See Jackson, A Certain Idea of France, pp. 125–128. 48. Noel-Baker to Dalton, 27 June 1940, and to Attlee, 28 June 1940: NBKR 4/261, Noel-Baker (Philip) Papers, Churchill College, Cam- bridge. 49. This conspiracy theory had a long back-story, but was very widely believed in the 1930s: Malcolm Anderson, ‘The Myth of the Two Hun- dred Families’, Political Studies, Vol. XIII, No. 2, June 1965, pp. 163– 178. 70 A. J. WILLIAMS

50. For some of Noel-Baker’s correspondence with Cot, see NBKR 4/258. 51. Duff Cooper, Old Men Forget (London: Faber and Faber, 2011), ﬁrst published 1953; John Julius Norwich, The Duff Cooper Diaries 1915– 1951 (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2005). 52. De Gaulle to Noel-Baker, 10 July and 28 August 1940, NBKR 4/261. 53. Pleven (London) to de Gaulle (Brazzaville), 1 June 1941, de Gaulle Papers, AG/3 (1)/ 256, Affaires étrangères – ETATS UNIS, Dossier 1b). 54. For more on this see Williams, France, Britain and the United States, Chapter 4, and pp. 168–170, as well as: Bailey, Arsenal of Democracy. 55. Pleven (London) to de Gaulle (Brazzaville), 16 May 1941, de Gaulle Papers, AG/3 (1)/ 256, Affaires étrangères – ETATS UNIS, Dossier 1b). 56. Cot to Pleven, 13 September 1941, annotations by de Gaulle; de Gaulle to Pleven, 18 March 1942, Pleven Papers, AN, 550 AP 16. 57. High Commission In Canada for Dominion Ofﬁce London to de Gaulle (Brazzaville), 6 June 1941, and Consul General of San Marino in New York to de Gaulle, 26 June 1941; Pleven to de Gaulle, via Halifax, 26 June 1941; Cassin and Dejean to de Gaulle, 3 July 1941; de Gaulle Papers, AG/3 (1)/ 256, Affaires étrangères – ETATS UNIS, Dossier 1b). 58. Pleven to de Gaulle, via Halifax, 26 June 1941: de Gaulle Papers, AG/3 (1)/ 256, Affaires étrangères – ETATS UNIS, Dossier 1b). 59. Hervé Alphand, ‘Soutien de la France libre aux Etats – Unis’, 7pp., 6 September 1941: de Gaulle Papers, AG/3 (1)/ 256, Affaires étrangères – ETATS UNIS, Dossier 1b). 60. File of 2 January 1941, Berle Papers, Box 44. On Welles and FDR, see Irwin Gellman, Secret Affairs: Franklin Roosevelt, Cordell Hull, and Sumner Welles (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1995). 61. Andrew Buchanan, American Grand Strategy in the Mediterranean Dur- ing World War II (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014); Philips O’Brien, The Second Most Powerful Man in the World, Fleet Admi- ral William D. Leahy, Chief of Staff (London: Penguin, 2019); William D. Leahy, I Was There (London: Gollancz, 1950); and Robert Murphy Diplomat Among Warriors (Garden City, New York, Doubleday, 1964). 62. O’Brien, The Second Most Powerful Man in the World, p. 172; William L. Langer, Our Vichy Gamble (New York: Alfred Knopf, 1947), trans. Le jeu Américain à Vichy (Paris: Plon, 1948); David Mayers, FDR’s Ambassadors and the Diplomacy of Crisis: From the Rise of Hitler to the End of World War II (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013), p. 160. 63. Hopkins to FDR and reply, 15 May 1942, Secretary’s Files, File 168, Box 3, Roosevelt Library. 2 HUMILIATION, COLLABORATION, RESISTANCE, LIBERATION … 71

64. On Leahy, de Gaulle and Operation Torch, see O’Brien, The Second Most Powerful Man in the World, pp. 231–234. 65. François Kersaudy, Churchill and de Gaulle (London: Fontana, 1990). The Churchill quote is from Martin Edmonds, The Big Three: Churchill, Roosevelt and Stalin in Peace and War (London: Penguin, 1991), p. 323. 66. Tim Brooks, British Propaganda to France, 1940–1944: Machinery, Method and Message (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2007), pp. 4–5. 67. Denis Lefebvre, Guy Mollet: Le mal aimé (Paris: Plon, 1992), pp. 61–62. Mollet was Maire of Arras and Député of the Pas-de-Calais from 1945 until his death in 1975. 68. After the war Auriol was to become Président du Conseil (Prime Minis- ter) in 1946 and Président de la République between 1947 and 1954, an thus a key politician of the Fourth Republic. 69. Olivier Wieviorka, ‘A` la recherche de l’engagement….’, p. 58. 70. Olivier Wieviorka, The French Resistance, p. 335; Wieviorka, ‘Ala` recherche de l’engagement….’, p. 58. 71. Brooks, British Propaganda to France, p. xvii. 72. Pertinax Les Fossoyeurs: La bataille de France, l’armistice, la contre- révolution. 1. Les derniers chefs de la IIIe République: Gamelin, Paul Reynaud, Daladier (New York, publisher unknown, 1943). See also J. R. Johnstone, ‘The French Rats and the Sinking Ship: A Grave- Digger Indicts His Fellows’, New International, Vol. X, No. 9, September 1944, pp. 288–293, which accused Pertinax, a conservative early supporter of Vichy, as having being part of the problem he identiﬁed, https://www.marxists.org/archive/james-clr/works/ 1944/09/french-rats.htm (accessed 5 May 2017). 73. Gross, ‘Themes for a Social History of War Experience and Collabora- tion’, p. 25. 74. For a fuller account of the development of the expression ‘collaboration’ see Philippe Burrin, France Under the Germans: Collaboration and Com- promise (New York: New Press, 1996). The best account in English is: Jackson, France: The Dark Years, Part II, ‘The Regime: National Revo- lution and Collaboration’. 75. Jean-Baptiste Duroselle, La politique étrangère de la France: L’Abîme, 1939–1944 (Paris: Seuil, 1990). 76. Jean Montigny, La Défaite: heures tragiques de 1940 (Paris: Bernard Grasset, 1941), p. 11. 77. Jacques Benoist-Méchin, La Moisson de Quarante: Journal d’un prisonnier de guerre (Paris: Editions Albin Michel, 1941). 78. Jacques Benoist-Méchin, Soixante jours qui ébranlèrent l’Occident: 10 mai - 10 juillet, 1940 (Paris: Laffont, 1956). 72 A. J. WILLIAMS

79. Charles de Gaulle, Discorde chez l’ennemi, in: de Gaulle, Le Fil de L’épée et autres écrits. 80. Montigny, La Défaite, passim; Benoist-Méchin, La Moisson de Quarante, passim. 81. Burrin, La France à l’heure allemande, p. 40. 82. André Philip, 3 October 1942, Groupe Jean Jaurès, London, Fonds Louis Lévy, OURS, 95 ARO 3. 83. Bénédicte Vergez-Chaignon, Vichy en prison: Les épurés à Fresnes après la Libération (Paris: Gallimard, 2006), pp. 19–20. One such minister was François Chasseigne, sécretaire d’Etat au Ravitaillment. 84. The ﬁles are in: Vichy, ‘International: Comptes Rendus d’affaires politiques et militaires’, 1940–1944, Meeting of 29/30 June 1940, Vol. 36, MAE, Paris, 5qo/1. [Hereafter, ‘Commission d’Armistice’]. Von Stülp- nagel was not a committed Nazi and was executed in the aftermath of the ‘July Plot’ of 1944. 85. Darlan to all Vichy Ministers and Secretaries of State, 17 November 1941, Vichy Cabinet du Ministre (Affaires Etrangères), Vol. 4; Meeting of 21 November 1941,‘Commission d’Armistice’, Vol. 40. 86. Meetings of 6 August, 12 August, 4, 16 and 21 November 1941, ‘Com- mission d’Armistice’, Vol. 40. By the last of these meetings General Koeltz had replaced Huntziger who had been killed in a aircraft crash on 11 November 1941. 87. Meetings of 5–7 July 1940, ‘Commission d’Armistice’, Vol. 36. 88. O’Brien, The Second Most Powerful Man in the World, pp. 232–233. 89. Yves Pourcher, Moi: Josée Laval (Paris: Le Cherche-Midi, 2015); Pierre Laval (ed. Josée Laval de Chambrun) Laval parle… (Paris: La Diffusion du Livre, 1947); and Vergez-Chaignon, Vichy en prison, pp. 367–368. 90. [Vichy] Report of 4 November 1940 and de la Baume (Bern) to Darlan, 4 December 1941, Vichy: Cabinet du Ministre (Affaires Etrangères), MAE, Paris, also 5qo/1, Vol. 4 [Hereafter: Vichy Cabinet du Ministre (Affaires Etrangères)]. 91. De la Baume had previously been French Ambassador to Madrid, where he had established a good relationship with Samuel Hoare, Chamber- lain’s Foreign Secretary: cf. Peter Mangold, Britain and the Defeated French: From Occupation to Liberation, 1940–1944 (London: I.B. Tau- ris, 2012), pp. 57–59. 92. Emmanuelle Loyer, Paris à New York: Intellectuels et artistes français en exil (1940–1947) (Paris: Grasset et Fasquelle, 2005). 93. De la Baume (Bern) to Darlan, 4 December 1941, Vichy Cabinet du Ministre (Affaires Etrangères). 94. Neal H. Petersen (ed.), From Hitler’s Doorstep: The Wartime Intelligence Reports of Allen Dulles, 1942–1945 (Pennsylvania: Pennsylvania Univer- sity Press, 1996); Dulles is endlessly controversial but his role in the Sec- ond World War was signiﬁcant. For a lurid, and entertaining, account, 2 HUMILIATION, COLLABORATION, RESISTANCE, LIBERATION … 73

see Stephen Kinser, The Brothers: John Foster Dulles, Allen Dulles and Their Secret World War (New York: Times Books, Henry Holt, 2013). 95. J. F. Blondel (Soﬁa) to Darlan, 13 November 1941: Vichy Cabinet du Ministre (Affaires Etrangères), Vol. 4. 96. On Nadi’s views, see Soner Cagaptay, Islam, Secularism and Nationalism in Modern Turkey: Who is a Turk? (London: Routledge, 2006), p. 149. 97. Jean Helleu (Ankara) to Darlan, 22 October, 10 November, and 1 December 1941: Vichy Cabinet du Ministre (Affaires Etrangères). 98. Benoist-Méchin, La Moisson de Quarante,p.47. 99. Cobb, The Resistance, pp. 5–6. 100. H. R. Kedward, Resistance in Vichy France: A Study of Ideas and Moti- vation in the Southern Zone (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1978). 101. Jackson, France: The Dark Years, Chapter 15, ‘Vichy and the Jews’, especially, pp. 201–203 and pp. 355–360; Michael Robert Marrus and Robert Paxton, Vichy France and the Jews (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1995). 102. Renée Poznanski, ‘The French Resistance: An Alternative Society for the Jews?’, in David Bankler and Israel Gutman, Nazi Europe and the Final Solution (New York: Berghahn, 2009), p. 414; Jean-Pierre Azéma, De Munich à la Libération (Paris: Seuil, 1979), p. 106. 103. François Kersaudy, Churchill and de Gaulle, Chapter 12 (London: Collins, 1981). On Giraud see G. Ward Price, Giraud and the African Scene (New York: Macmillan, 1944). 104. O’Brien, The Second Most Powerful Man in the World, Chapter 17, ‘Dif- ﬁcult Friends’. 105. Stimson Diary, 8 November 1942, Stimson Diary, Reel 8, Library of Congress. 106. Stimson Diary, 10 November 1942, Stimson Diary, Reel 8, Library of Congress. 107. Simon Kitson and Hanna Diamond, ‘One Historian and his Occupation: Rod Kedward’, in Hanna Diamond and Simon Kitson (eds.), Vichy, Resis- tance, Liberation: New Perspectives on Wartime France (Oxford: Berg, 2005), p. 1. 108. Pierre Laval, Laval Parle: Notes et mémoires rédigés à Fresnes d’août à octobre 1945 (Paris: La Diffusion du Livre, 1948), p. 121. 109. Gordon, Collaborationism in France During the Second World War, p. 19. On the French debate on fascism see, in particular: Serge Berrnstein and Michel Winock, Fascisme français: La controverse (Paris: CNRS Editions, 2014), ‘Introduction’; Zeev Sternhell, Ni droite ni gauche. L’idéologie fasciste en France (Paris: Gallimard, 1983) (and subsequent editions). See also Nimrod Amzalak, Fascists and Honourable Men: Contingency and Choice in French Politics, 1918–45 (London: Pal- grave Macmillan, 2011); Michel Winock, Nationalisme, antisémitisme en 74 A. J. WILLIAMS

France (Paris: Seuil, 2014). A brief summary of this debate in English can be found in: Peter Davies, The Extreme Right in France: 1789 to the Present (London: Routledge, 2002), pp. 21–23. 110. ‘Etat de la Zone occupée en décembre 1941’ (a melange of prefec- tural reports from across the zone): Vichy Cabinet du Ministre (Affaires Etrangères), Vol. 40. 111. ‘Antécédents Politiques de Charles Vallin’, n.d., late 1942: Fonds Louis Lévy, OURS, 95 ARO 3. 112. Kersaudy, Churchill and de Gaulle, pp. 120–122 and 169. The last quote is repeated by Jackson, The Dark Years, p. 395. 113. ‘Source Dundee 323’, Commissariat de l’interieur de Londres, 1941–44, AN, Paris F/1a/3790. 114. ‘Situation Diplomatique’, dated early 1943, Commissariat de l’interieur de Londres, AN, F/1a/3790. 115. Hamilton Fish Armstrong, ‘Memorandum of a meeting between members of the Council on Foreign Relations and the State Department’, 1 May 1940, Armstrong Papers, Box 73. 116. The archives of this group can be found in the Ofﬁce Universitaire pour le Recherche Socialiste (OURS), the main repository for the papers of the French Socialist Party (Section française de l’Internationale Ouvrière, SFIO) in Paris. The main body of the papers are in the Fonds Louis Lévy, after the Chairman of the Groupe; his wife Marthe Lévy was the Secretary. 117. Fanny Emmanuelle Rey, La dissidence socialiste à Londres: Le groupe Jean Jaurès et la France (août 1940–août 1944), Mémoire de maitrise d’histoire, Université Paris 1, Panthéon – Sorbonne, 1997–98. 118. Rey, La dissidence socialiste à Londres,p.1. 119. As it turned out, after the war Blum was to emerge from his captivity greatly weakened physically, though he acted as Prime Minister of the Provisional Government after the war between December 1946 and December 1947. 120. ‘Boseman’ (Van Wolpert) to Mollet, 28 October 1943, AGM1, Mollet Papers, OURS, Paris. 121. Groupe Jean Jaurès (GJJ), Minutes of meeting of 6 December 1941, Fonds Louis Lévy, OURS, 95 ARO 3. 122. See, for example, Henry (London) to ‘Villiers’ (Daniel Mayer) (Algiers) 3 September 1943, AGM1, Mollet Papers. 123. The best recent collection on this thinking can be found in: Noëlline Castagnez, Frédéric Cépède, Gilles Morin and Anne-Laure Ollivier, Les socialistes français à l’heure de la Libération: perspectives française et européene, 1943–1947 (Paris, L’OURS, 2016). See also H. Michel and 2 HUMILIATION, COLLABORATION, RESISTANCE, LIBERATION … 75

B. Mirkine-Guetzévitch (eds.), Les idées politiques de la Résistance (Doc- uments clandestine), 1940–1944 (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1954). 124. ‘Note’ quoting the US press, April 1943: De Gaulle Papers, Archives Nationales, Paris, AG/3 (1)/256: Dossier 1a). 125. Gros to de Gaulle, ‘Note sur les travaux américains de preparation de la paix’, 14 May 1943; De Gaulle Papers, Archives Nationales, Paris, AG/3 (1)/256: Dossier 1a). 126. Hoppenot to Algiers, 4 October 1943, De Gaulle Papers, Archives Nationales, Paris, AG/3 (1)/256: Dossier 1a). On Welles’ fall from grace see O’Brien, The Second Most Powerful Man in the World, pp. 241–245. 127. Hoppenot to Algiers, 3 November 1943; ‘Les Etats-Unis et le problème coloniale’, sent to de Gaulle, General Catroux, the Foreign and Colonial Ministries in exile, 15 January 1944, as well as ‘Les Problèmes Coloniaux avec les Etats Unis’, 1 July 1944: De Gaulle Papers, Archives Nationales, Paris, AG/3 (1)/256: Dossier 1a). 128. Nicholas Spykman, America’s Strategy in World Politics: The United States and the Balance of Power (New York: Harcourt, Brace and Com- pany, 1942). 129. Or Rosenboim, ‘Geopolitics and Empire: Visions of Regional World Order in the 1940s’, Modern Intellectual History, Vol. 12, No. 2, August 2015, pp. 343–381. 130. For more on this see Williams, France, Britain and the United States, ‘Conclusion’. 131. Auriol to London, 13 July 1944. The letter had been written on 12 May: Auriol Papers, AN, AU 10 Dr 5; For more on this see: Andrew Williams, ‘France and the Origins of the United Nations, 1944–45: “Si La France ne compte plus, qu’on nous le dise”’, Diplomacy and Statecraft, June 2017, pp. 215–234. 132. Stephen Schuker, The End of French Predominance in Europe: The Finan- cial Crisis of 1924 and the Adoption of the Dawes Plan (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1976). 133. Dejean to de Gaulle, 5 and 23 August 1942; Stark to de Gaulle, 29 July 1942: De Gaulle Papers, Archives Nationales, Paris, AG/3 (1)/256: Dossier 1b). Dejean was replaced by René Massigli in October 1942. 134. Burrin, La Dérive fasciste: Doriot, Déat, Bergery, 1933-45. (Paris: Seuil, 2003). GJJ discussions of 17 June 1944, Fonds Louis Lévy, OURS, 95 ARO 3. 135. For more on this see L. Jacquemin, ‘Commission pour l’étude des prob- lèmes d’après guerre’, 10 September 1942, AN, ‘France Libre’, also cited in Chapter 2, p. 92. For a discussion of Péguy and ‘mystique’, see Jack- son, The Dark Years, pp. 4–6 and A Certain Idea of France, pp. 20–21. 136. Jackson, The Dark Years, pp. 4–6. 137. For more on Sorel, see Chapter 6, pp. 264–265. 76 A. J. WILLIAMS

138. Andrew J. Williams, ‘Waiting for Monsieur Bergson: Nicholas Murray Butler, James T. Shotwell and the French Sage’, Diplomacy and State- craft, Vol. 23, No. 2, 1 June 2012, pp. 236–253. 139. Jackson, A Certain Idea of France, pp. 21–23; Suzanne Guerlac, Think- ing in Time: An Introduction to Henri Bergson (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2006), Chapter 1. 140. Charles de Gaulle, Mémoires de Guerre – L’appel: 1940–42 (Paris: Plon, 2010). 141. Michael Donelan, Honor in Foreign Policy (New York: Palgrave Macmil- lan, 2007), Chapter 1, ‘Honour in Europe’. 142. Free French Press and Information Bureau, 12/13 December 1942, De Gaulle Papers, AN, Paris, AG/3 (1)/256: Dossier 1b). 143. Free French Press and Information Bureau, 12/13 December 1942, De Gaulle Papers, AN, Paris, AG/3 (1)/256: Dossier 1b). 144. ‘Commission pour l’étude des problèmes d’après guerre’, AN, ‘France Libre’, F1A3734 ‘Comité national d’études de la Résistance’: ‘Note sur la creation d’un Ministère de l’Economie nationale’, n.d. probably mid- 1944, AN F1A3791. CHAPTER 3

The ‘Anglo-Saxon’ New World Order and the French Riposte, 1940–1946

Introduction: The Anglo-Saxon ‘New World Order’ The New World Order (NWO) that emerged after 1940 had a manifestly Anglo-Saxon character, designed mainly by the American and British authorities, while the Free French authorities were often mere bystanders. They often were reduced to reading the same State Department Press Releases that the general public could see. However they did develop interesting and significant views on the process based on what they knew of the discussions and what they were themselves experiencing as the war progressed. This understanding fed into re-merging political institutions within France itself and in exile. This chapter will give an overview of how that process evolved in key issue areas. To do that we will first define how NWO thinking evolved, essentially in London and Washington, and then look at how the French tried to interact with that process, sometimes with success, but often with a feeling that they were being excluded from the discussion. The British seemed, initially at least, to push for the involvement of the Free French in at least the broad outlines of what a NWO might look like. De Gaulle’s physical presence in London, British support for the doomed Dakar campaign of August 1940 (see Chapter 2) and Churchill’s generally

© The Author(s) 2020 77 A. J. Williams, France, Britain and the United States in the Twentieth Century: Volume 2, 1940–1961, Studies in Diplomacy and International Relations, https://doi.org/10.1057/978-1-137-41444-1_3 78 A. J. WILLIAMS far less critical view of de Gaulle than that held by the Roosevelt Adminis- tration all helped. But this support was at best equivocal within the Coali- tion Government and in all British political parties. In the United States public opinion was generally far more sympathetic to the Free French than was the Administration. Roosevelt, Leahy and Welles (among others) harboured personal antipathy for de Gaulle. Roosevelt and the State Department also wanted to keep the Vichy regime as ‘on side’ as much as possible in order to minimise the dangers of Vichy troops interfer- ing with the eventual re-invasion of North Africa (Operation Torch in November 1942) and what became D-Day. The resultant sense of humiliation impacted on French views of the NWO and on the shape it took and had a lasting impact.

Complacency, States and Economic Reconstruction

H. G. Wells has rightly been seen as one of the great (and often self- proclaimed) prophets of the first half of the twentieth century. He also recognised that there were very few political figures that were taken seriously by the vast majority of people before the Second World War. In 1934 he told Stalin that: ‘At the present time there are only two persons to whose opinion, to whose every word, millions are listening—you and Roosevelt. Others may preach as much as they like; what they say will never be printed or heeded.’ Wells told Stalin he was ‘more left wing than he was’ in his desire for a new kind of state system and a new kind of capitalism, both of which Wells thought could be reformed, whereas Stalin did not.1 In Wells’ first statement during the war, in January 1940, he accused the world of the same deep-seated ‘complacency’ that had caused the First World War. Those to blame for this, the same ‘ruling-class people’ whom he had lambasted to Stalin in 1934, had to now understand that ‘the system of nationalist individualism and unco-ordinated [sic] enterprise that is the world’s disease… has to go.’ The ‘period of sovereign states’ was at an ‘end’ and a ‘new way of living for our species’ had to be found ‘…it is as urgent and comprehensive as that’.2 At least some of that sense of urgency and with much the same essential foci, those of the state and the economic system, was expressed in official circles in Washington and London almost immediately. In one of its first meetings of March 1940, the ‘War Studies Project’ (WSP) of the Council on Foreign Relations (CFR), the think-tank founded in the corridors of the Versailles Conference of 1919, asked the question: ‘[w]hat 3 THE ‘ANGLO-SAXON’ NEW WORLD ORDER … 79 sort of world do we want and what can we do to reconstruct the world in its best interests?’ The subsequent working groups that were established, on what wartime policies the United States should follow were the so-called ‘Armaments Group’; on the future of boundaries/frontiers the ‘Territorial Group’; and the ‘Political Group’, which was to look into the future of world organisation proposals, including one for the World Court, a version of which had first been incorporated into the League of Nations as the Permanent Court of International Justice.3 The initial musings of the WSP were vague and relatively unfocussed, but they stood on much firmer foundations than they implied as the CFR was by 1940 an extremely well-reputed think tank.4 This was also the case on the other side of the Atlantic, where Chatham House, the sister organisation to the CFR, had set up a series of ‘Groups’. The most important of these reflected the same concerns as those in the CFR, and showed the same divisions. Hence the ‘Limitations of Nation- alism’ group, produced a report in December 1939 that fully agreed with the caveats of the group’s title, and which in turn led to a celebrated counter-blast text by E. H. Carr, Nationalism and After, in 1945.5 The contrast between these two views was mirrored in the CFR, with a celebrated disagreement between Leo Pasvolsky, an ardent supporter of a world organisation, and Isaiah Bowman, who advocated the exercise of American military power and a more regional security focus.6 Chatham House also had a ‘Reconstruction Committee’, a ‘Political Group’ and other groups that focussed on economics and war strategy. The subjects discussed bore a strong relation to each other and there was a good deal of transatlantic discussion, in particular between Pasvolsky and Toynbee for example.7 All of these topics were in many ways but a continuation of debates that dated back to, at least, the Treaty of Versailles and certainly to the League of Nations. What united them was a sense that the ‘status-quo’, or ‘satisfied’ Powers and elites had let the world drift into two global conflagrations and that had to change.

The Anglo-American World Order, 1940--1944: Post-War Planning

The post-1945 NWO was largely designed within the US State Depart- ment known as ‘Post-War Planning’ (PWP). This process was mainly under the aegis of officials appointed by President Roosevelt in person and 80 A. J. WILLIAMS was largely delegated to Sumner Welles, Under-Secretary of State after August 1941, although it was started in early 1940, so well before the United States entered the war. As Christopher O’Sullivan rightly notes, Welles and Harley Notter, the author of the definitive insider account of PWP, wanted to avoid the problems associated with the First World War’s ‘Inquiry’. Then one man, Colonel Edward House, had managed to dominate Wilson’s thinking, with disastrous results.8 It was fully realised that the United States would have its own national interest as a guiding principle, and not ‘the purely political problems’ of the European states, including Britain and France. But it was also realised, in the words of State Department staffer Hugh R. Wilson that a ‘world order’ would this time round require the United States to help Europe with its ‘reconstruction’, which it had not in 1919.9 As we will see previous experience, in the ‘Inquiry’ and since 1919, had produced a patchwork quilt of pro- and anti-British and French feeling throughout the PWP planning staff. There was also a patchwork quilt of personal allegiances that played a very important role in how the process played out. Roosevelt seems to have enjoyed such constructive rivalry, both to generate ideas and also to enable him to ultimately control the decision-making process. Welles chaired an Advisory Committee on Post-War Foreign Policy (ACPWFP) to which other bodies reported. Invited to the early consul- tations by Welles, the CFR continued its inter-war dominance of Amer- ican thinking about foreign policy by having many prominent members on the ACPWFP, including the CFR’s President (and distinguished inter- war diplomat) Norman Davis and its Deputy President and the Editor of Foreign Affairs, Hamilton Fish Armstrong. Other key non-State Depart- ment members included Isaiah Bowman, the former chairman of the First World War ‘Inquiry’. From the State Department, Secretary of State Cordell Hull (1933–1943) had an uneasy relationship with both Welles, who was better regarded than Hull by Roosevelt, and his Special Assis- tant Leo Pasvolsky, who was Head of the State Department’s Division of Special Research, which provided much of the administrative backup to the whole PWP process. One key player who had Roosevelt’s ear, was his main speech writer, Assistant Secretary of State Adolf Berle. He was to prove a rare ally within PWP for the Free French as well as being promi- nently distrustful of British intentions. The pro-British Secretary for War, Henry Stimson was so worried about Berle’s attitude in May 1940 that he told Supreme Court Justice, and ardent Anglophile, Felix Frankfurter that Berle might be ‘a danger to 3 THE ‘ANGLO-SAXON’ NEW WORLD ORDER … 81 relations with Great Britain’. Berle certainly did not like British Ambas- sador Lord Lothian,10 but he did get on well with the Canadians, so he was rather, in the words of State Department staffer Herbert Feis, ‘anti- British… not pro-Nazi’. Indeed Feis told Stimson he feared the entire State Department was ‘a little out of control’ with a weak Secretary of State, Hull, and having to defer to his nominal deputy Welles, who had Roosevelt’s ear on most issues. Stimson said later that ‘Hull and Welles [we]re not always on speaking terms’.11 These subtleties of personal feeling were of major importance in the PWP process on occasions, especially towards the French as were the opinions of Welles who disliked de Gaulle intensely as we have already noted. The machinery of PWP grew exponentially from the humble beginning of 1941 until 1945, with extensive inputs from think tanks such as the CFR, the Brookings Institution and the Carnegie Endowment. The State Department’s Division of Special Research spawned a variety of committees, notably on ‘Political and Territorial Reconstruction’ (chaired by Welles), General Security (chaired by Davis) and Economic Reconstruction (chaired by Berle). Among the American PWP planners, the two main camps of opinion tended to coalesce around those who believed that after Allied victory there could be a viable global organisation that encompassed all the main Allies, including the Soviet Union, and those who believed that such cooperation as unlikely to be possible. In the first camp, the main players were Hull and Pasvolsky, who is often seen as the main architect of the Charter of the United Nations. In the second camp there were a variety of other top Administration officials, notably Bowman and Davis, who were concerned that Pasvolsky was being dangerously idealist. Both Davis and Bowman had served in the American delegation at the Paris Peace Conference, unlike Pasvolsky, and were more than aware of the dangers of such complacency. Roosevelt tended to play these two camps off against each other, as was his wont with much of his policy-making.12 82 A. J. WILLIAMS

The Principles Underlying PWP

Progressivism, Liberalism, Planning, Planification à la Française PWP in the United States derived most of its basic ideals and impetus from a particular period of American history, usually known as the ‘Pro- gressive’ era. Cornelia Navari and Molly Cochran stress that ‘progressivism’ was both a domestic and a foreign policy agenda. Initially at least ‘Progressivism revolved around the “war question”—whether and under what conditions the United States should join the Allies in fighting Ger- many during World War 1’.13 With the outbreak of another similar conflict the question was re-posed, this time with the United States in a much more predominant, but by no means in 1940 hegemonic, position. This period, which could be said to span from about 1900 to the late 1960s, saw an attempt to re-make the world in the American image, one that believed in liberal, open and inclusive ideals as a direct antidote to ‘old world’ national and ideological narrow-mindedness. Its primary source, says Godfrey Hodson, lay with the relationship between two men, Pres- ident Woodrow Wilson and Colonel Edward House, who tried to influence the Paris Peace Conference at the end of the First World War.14 John Gerard Ruggie described the economic and political result of progressivism as leading to ‘Embedded Liberalism’,15 abeliefinastate- regulated market with large doses of state intervention to avoid market dysfunction, which in the United States has usually been summed up as ‘anti-trust’ legislation. In Britain and France after 1945 it came to include direct intervention, even the nationalisation, of some sectors of the economy and was linked in economic thinking to Keynesian ideas of managing demand. ‘Planning’, as has been alluded to above, was a key idea of both the Left and the Right in Europe and beyond, most obviously with the Soviet ‘Five Year Plans’ and with the American ‘New Deal’. Classical liberalism was widely held to have failed to defeat the economic Depression or prevent the Second World War. Hence thinkers like Lionel Robbins often saw ‘planning’ as an antidote to both economic disarray and international disorder.16 More broadly we can call this the ‘political economy of war’ as a book by F. W. Hirst put it in 1915. Hirst’s survey is interesting partly because of the moment it was written, when thinking about the link between the economy and war was undergoing the crucial move from seeing war as a way to gain ‘prizes’, the traditional impetus of Royal Navy crews who were otherwise forced to endure ‘rum, sodomy and the lash’, to 3 THE ‘ANGLO-SAXON’ NEW WORLD ORDER … 83 one of emphasising the ‘costs’. These costs in the past had been mainly financial, as in Britain’s obsession with how to pay for war and debt after it over many centuries. The emphasis had thus been on the physical costs, as also in the displacement of populations, a point reinforced in 1914. But costs were also being increasingly seen as ‘moral and intellectual’, a move made most clear by the ‘indemnity’ demanded by the United States in the dispute over the Alabama, a ship built on the Clyde and used to sink Union shipping during the American Civil War.17 Could wars caused by economic motives be cured by economic solutions? This was an issue that was revisited many times after 1915, most notably in the Treaty of Versailles and its aftermath, and was to recur during the Second World War as part of the analysis of how, maybe, the errors of 1919 had to lead to the new thinking of 1939–1945. By 1939, and certainly during the Second World War, the elites of London and Washington were increasingly emphasising that war must be linked not just to economic causes but also to the aims that were required to fight it justly. One major milestone was Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden’s Mansion House speech of 29 May 1941, duly noted by the Labour Party’s Undersecretary of State for Foreign Affairs, and a major link to the Free French in London, Philip Noel-Baker (see Chapter 2, p. 37). Eden proclaimed that we have declared that ‘social security must be the first objective of our domestic policy after the war’. The League of Nations produced a report in the same year that explicitly linked ‘social and economic reconstruction’ to the ‘post-war settlement’ and quoted Eden in its defence. The link was explicitly made between the need to reduce unemployment through ‘international control’, while defending the ‘freedom of the individual’. An approbatory appendix by Oxford Labour Party supporting economist Thomas Balogh is almost as long as the report itself. And other economists like A. C. Pigou, who had been crucial in the 1914–1918 debate on the same topic, contributed very similar views. The ‘transition from war to peace’ had to be socially as well as economically uplifting.18 In France, as in Britain, during the 1930s the very ideas of ‘left’ and ‘right’ were often confused or conflated. Philip Nord reminds us that the Belgian Socialist Henri de Man was a central figure in bringing the idea of planning to public notice, and his ideas were followed by a varied group of thinkers, some of whom were later to support de Gaulle in exile like Robert Marjolin as well as up and coming intellectuals like Claude Lévi Strauss.19 In de Man’s case it was linked to a disillusion with liberal 84 A. J. WILLIAMS politics as well as economics, which he blamed for facilitating the rise of Hitler. But the French Socialist Party was initially not a great fan of the idea of planning, as was of course also the case at that period with the Labour Party. Both the SFIO and the Labour Party later became great advocates, but in Britain the residual believers in classical economics (and the national interest, to be fair to them) like James Ramsay Macdonald and J. H. Thomas joined the National Government of 1931–1935 and left Labour in total disarray, while the most prominent Labour advocate of planning, Oswald Mosley, left to form the British Union of Fascists where he professed a brand of ‘corporatism’, a belief in the necessary total dominance of the state, also very in vogue in the 1930s and popularised by Benito Mussolini in Italy.20 SFIO leader Léon Blum was equally not so persuaded in France before the war, and not unsurprisingly perhaps given that many of those socialists who did espouse it were to become fascists. The issue helped split the SFIO, with the sometime socialist député and future Vichy fascist Marcel Déat, being expelled for what can be called ‘corporatist’ views. This was more in line with National Socialist ideas of state-dictated planning than those advocated by liberals in Britain, except Mosley whose ideas were not unlike those of Déat.21 The ‘Comité du Plan’, established in 1933, included Déat and future ardent supporters of Pétain, and subsequently de Gaulle, like Pierre Laroque (later de Gaulle’s Director General of Social Security) as well as key figures in the Communist trades union Confédéra- tion Général du Travail (CGT). It proclaimed that liberal economic ideas had experienced, in Déat’s term, a ‘total collapse’ (l’irrémediable échec). ‘Non-conformist’ thinking was now necessary to ‘go beyond’ (dépasser) liberalism, to counter ‘the absurdity of competition… the law of the jungle’. Both Déat and Laroque believed in the need for a strong state and that France had, in Laroque’s view, ‘an excess of individualism’ that must be replaced by ‘neo-socialism’.22 The two men found themselves on different sides of history after 1940. By then Déat had moved even further to the right and became an extreme collaborator, a colleague of both Jacques Doriot, a founder of the Ligue des Volontaires Français who fought with the Germans against Soviet Russia, as well as of the Vichy Prime Minister Pierre Laval.23 Planning was thus an important touchstone for all sides in France and beyond in the 1930s and much more widely in the global conflict to come. 3 THE ‘ANGLO-SAXON’ NEW WORLD ORDER … 85

British groups like Political and Economic Planning (PEP), were personally and intellectually closer to American ‘progressive’ notions. Promi- nent British intellectuals like ﬁnancier Basil Blackett and the zoologist Julian Huxley of PEP often consulted Brookings economists like Pasvol- sky and his key Roosevelt State Department allies like Berle. So did business organisations in the United States like the NESPA (National Eco- nomic and Social Planning Association) which also worked closely with the CFR.24 NESPA and PEP shared a view of planning that has been dubbed ‘technological utopian’; and thus also formed an important part of a wider intellectual Anglo-American network that had a great inﬂuence on British domestic politics and the much wider process of PWP.25 The various types of ‘planning’ outlined above all stand in contrast to what might be called ‘neo-liberalism’, which tends to emphasise ‘supply- side’ economic thinking, abhor planning and espouse an almost unbridled belief in the powers and logic of the market.26 This discussion about how much power to leave to the state and how much to the market is at the heart of the liberal debate about politics and economics, and always will be. In the 1940s the dispute over which form of ‘liberal’ economic policy to follow has often been summed up as a debate between Keynes and Friedrich Hayek, a fellow British academic, whose Forward from Serfdom competed with Keynes’ writings. Hayek often equated social engineering with ‘totalitarianism’, by which he meant essentially socialism, marking him out more as a ‘libertarian’ than a ‘liberal’. Just before and during the war Hayek was to join up with his former German mentor, economist Ludwig von Mises in Geneva where the latter was exiled. They formed the Mont-Pélerin Society, which also attracted the American journalist Walter Lippmann, author of The Good Society (1937), a vocal advocate of a renewed liberalism, as well as French economist Etienne Mantoux, who wrote a volume excoriating Keynes as well as Robert Marjolin, the latter Jean Monnet’s commissaire général du Plan. The Mont-Pélerin meetings became (and still are) a main locus for the neo-liberal movement, which might more accurately be seen as a residual (in the 1940s) standard bearer for classical free market economics and as ‘conservative’ after that.27 The New Republic (which represented and represents still much left- leaning thinking in the USA) equated Hayek’s thinking with ‘seeing hob- goblins under every bed’.28 At the time most mainstream economists agreed with this ‘hobgoblin’ thesis and they continued to do so until the 1970s or even the 1980s. Those who work in the discipline of political economy, the war and its aftermath have endlessly debated, since at least 86 A. J. WILLIAMS

1945, this dispute between Keynes and Hayek about how much planning was needed and how much needed to remain in place after the hostili- ties were ended. An important article by the British economist Barbara Ward in Foreign Affairs in 194929 gives much insight into the dilemma of how the mobilization of the economy in wartime (such as controls over inflation, economic controls of various kinds and the role of Gov- ernment) could or should be translated into the peace. Keynes was in a powerful position as Britain’s main negotiator with the United States over the future of the world economic system from the Lend Lease discussions of 1941, through the establishment of the Bretton Woods organisations in July 1944 and right until the end of the War.30 The French (and francophone) establishment at the end of the war were firm believers in planning, with no apparent negative voices like Hayek. Some of this was linked to the belief on the left that, in the words of the Belgian socialist Henri de Man, the world had to go ‘beyond nationalism’.31 The first action of the properly constituted French Government of October 1945 was to establish a system of ‘social security’, along much the same lines as those of the Labour Party. In his apology to Blum cited below (p. 97) Avenol had admitted this failing. He also praised the British Administration, ‘the finest in the world [la meilleure du monde]’ and suggested that France should emulate it and create a ‘planned economy [une économie dirigée]’. But he could not see who could do it: ‘we are always talking of administrative reforms, it’s like the Promised Land [la Terre promise]’.32 Leon Blum even suggested to de Gaulle that his successor (he resigned in pique in January 1946) should be Félix Gouin, because ‘he looks like Attlee’.33 This indeed happened. Roosevelt’s ‘New Deal’ had in many ways a distinctly ‘socialist’ feel for many in Britain and France. We have noted that the Sous-Commission sociale included prominent trade union leaders, including its President René Hauck. In Roosevelt’s State of the Union speech of January 1941 he had spoken of ‘Freedom from Want’ as a key goal of his Administration. In the idea of social security there was thus something of a transatlantic meeting of minds. The logic of the economic causes of war was also pretty well accepted on the French Left, if not always on the Gaullist Right. In a major speech to the French Socialist Party (SFIO) Congress in August 1946, the now leader of the Party, Guy Mollet (often known as ‘Guy le Rouge’) reminded his audience that ‘the fundamental causes of war … 3 THE ‘ANGLO-SAXON’ NEW WORLD ORDER … 87 are indissolubly linked to the nature of global capitalism [les causes fondamentales de la guerre … [sont] indissolublement liées à la nature capitaliste mondiale…]’.34

The New Deal Internationalised? Many of the divides within PWP tended to coalesce among those who interpreted ‘progressivism’ through a very Wilsonian, maybe even idealist, lens like Pasvolsky and those who were much more sceptical of Wilsonian- ism, but a fan of the Rooseveltian realist variant, like Bowman. That Wil- son had failed to make ‘old Europe’ mend its ways did not stop a ‘realist’ Wilsonian, Roosevelt, from being much more successful in imposing his ‘visions of Europe’ through his own influence and that of a few key advisers. The ultimate results were the institutions that became to be known as the ‘Bretton Woods’ organisations (notably the International Monetary Fund and the International Bank for Reconstruction and Development) and the United Nations. The American, British and French inputs into this varied greatly, with the French again often feeling excluded. So where were the ‘red lines’ of the American views on a NWO likely to clash with those of Britain and France? The Allies that were to make up the veto holders in the UN’s Security Council—Britain, China, France, the United States, and the USSR—all took different paths to fulfilling the collective and their individual versions of what they thought the new order should look like. The economically and militarily dominant position of the United States practically ensured that the NWO would be of American inspiration, though not in those areas of the world under Soviet or other Communist dominance. This was partly because the US was convinced that the European powers and the attendant balance of power policies they had pursued in Europe and through their imperial designs were largely responsible for the wars of the previous century or so. The American elite was not prepared to have to intervene a second time to save Europe from itself without some guarantees of future good behaviour. The underpinning for this ambition was based on an understanding that the causes of war were predominantly economic. This was the main thrust of Woodrow Wilson’s ‘14 Points’ of January 1918 and one of the key objectives of Roosevelt’s trade policies and other economic actions within the US itself. The ‘New Deal’ was to be ‘internationalized’ as Elizabeth Borgwardt puts it, and she sees it as the key originating statement of what has come 88 A. J. WILLIAMS to be called ‘humanitarianism’.35 This is a deeply problematic idea of course. For one thing, the ‘New Dealers’ who survived into the Truman Administration after Roosevelt’s death in 1945 often found themselves marginalised in the new anti-Communist atmosphere of the Cold War. What had been normal and self-conscious social engineering under Roo- sevelt became suspect ‘socialism.’ This was well reflected internationally in the removal of Lend Lease loans from Britain a few days after the end of the war in Europe. The British were also reminded over the next year or so, in fraught new loan negotiations in Washington led by Keynes, that they were the ‘poor relative’ as then President of the Board of Trade and a future Labour Prime Minister Harold Wilson put it. Keynes was forced to accept the end of Imperial Preference, a hard-won emblem of a trade-fuelled empire as well as the end of Sterling’s inconvertibil- ity, thus opening up Britain to the full winds of international competition at its moment of greatest economic vulnerability. In the words of another future Labour Prime Minister Jim Callaghan, this was ‘economic aggression by the United States’. Until the ‘emergence of a commercial heavy weight’ in the 1960s, the European Economic Community (EEC) the United States could, and did, largely dictate global and many national economic policies round the globe. This was deeply resented, not least by France.36 A positive view might be that American pressure was motivated by its belief in the need for rich states to look after the economic and human interests of poorer states and peoples through the promotion of policies to enhance economic development and human rights. But, as Borgwardt points out, this was a manifesto for what ‘Churchill and Roosevelt saw as Anglo-American values’.37 Others have been more critical. Roberto Bel- loni has defined it as ‘the political, economic and military interference in the domestic affairs of a state justified by a nascent transnational morality’. He agrees with Borgwardt that the end of the Second World War gave humanitarianism a ‘new momentum. The horrors of the war discredited the Westphalian conception of an international order where states could do as they pleased in the treatment of their citizens’.38 But this can, and has, been misused fairly routinely since 1945 to justify the imposition of Anglo-American, or more broadly liberal, values.39 So there are a number of important questions to be asked about this foundational moment for many of the current ethical and political debates in IR. Is the NWO that emerged from the Second World War one that can truly claim universal validity, or is it, as many commentators assert, a system designed mainly 3 THE ‘ANGLO-SAXON’ NEW WORLD ORDER … 89 by the United States, in its own interest? Some of the key opposition to this order within the West can be said to originate in France, so what form did it take and did, or does, it contain any major valid challenges to the order?

Agreement on Social and Economic Issues: Towards ‘Reconstruction’? Nord believes that one of the key ways in which France was to make a different contribution to thinking about post-war order was though an enhanced role for the state. We can nonetheless also say that many in France put a greater emphasis on the economic elements of post-war order than they had in 1919, and as we have seen this was also a feature of Anglo-American thinking. This was both internationally, where French thinkers within the Resistance of all political complexions were to prove major supports for European integration, but also in terms of what they thought was needed beyond Europe. A key Resistance document of 1942 singled this out in the Atlantic Charter as that of the ‘essential’ problem of ‘social security’ [sécurité sociale].40 An American or (Con- servative) British observer would have been unlikely to put such a firm emphasis on this issue—their preference would have been an evocation of Wilsonian concerns such as self-determination, security or international organisation, the main emphases of ‘post-war planning’ in London and Washington alike. But what was meant by a phrase that in English is more technical and associated with ‘national insurance’ against unemployment, retirement provision and state aid with ill health, in French becomes more elaborate. It means a total ‘reconstruction of the economy’, and what is also termed ‘social reconstruction’ on a global scale. As we will see, the Resistance bodies that considered the implications of this understood the costs that would be involved, both in terms of pecuniary interest but also in terms of the potential losses of political and economic sovereignty. Jean Monnet is (justly) the most famous figure associated with this realisation, a man with no real equivalent in Britain or the United States, but he was by no means the only figure we should look at. Without the back- ing of the impeccably sovereignist de Gaulle and the equally nationalist SFIO the move towards European union could not have taken place. The British were supposed to help this process in American imaginings, and have conspicuously failed to do so. This is not because the British did 90 A. J. WILLIAMS not understand the importance of economics for the guarantee of security, but because they considered that would be much better based on a ‘special relationship’ with the United States and the ‘Anglosphere’. This Anglo-French split is still a dominant trope of European and international politics. De Gaulle and the Free French might have felt excluded from much of PWP, and distrusted the British on post-war security grounds, but there was at least one area where a significant section of militants within the wider Resistance was happy to go along with Roosevelt’s plans and, even more enthusiastically, with those of the British, on the social organisation of Europe after the war. Another body within the Free French umbrella which started work in London in January 1942, calling itself the Commis- sion pour l’étude des problèmes d’après guerre [hereafter the ‘Commission’] had a broader remit, and membership, than the CNF. It was chaired by the pre-war Quai d’Orsay senior diplomat Hervé Alphand, de Gaulle’s National Commissioner for the Economy, Finance and the Colonies and Director of Economic Affairs. This Commission and its sub-committee, the Sous-Commission sociale included a number of prominent trade union leaders, such as its President, René Hauck, were to prove very important for deciding which bits of the American New Deal and the British welfare ideas summed up in the Beveridge Report of 1942 they wanted to emulate in France. William Beveridge’s contribution should more properly be entitled ‘Reports’ in the plural as it gave, over a period of several years, a wide interpretation of what was needed to fulfil his ambitions that ‘peace when it returns shall be assured and lasting, that men of all nations shall be able in future to live without war and without fear of war.’ In an echo of Roosevelt’s ‘Four Freedoms’ speech of January 1941 (Freedom of speech and belief, as well as from want and fear), the targets for Beveridge were ‘Want, Disease, Ignorance, Squalor and Idleness’, though subsequent volumes dealt with ‘Freedom from Fear’. The initial Report, that of November 1942, addressed the first of these ambitions, and had the very dry formal title of ‘Report on Social Insurance and Allied Services’. A subsequent Report, of November 1944, was sub-titled ‘Full Employment in a Free Society’. A final compendium report, of March 1945, The Price of Peace, addressed the need to have ‘Freedom from War and from fear of War [caps sic]’. This volume did nod in the direction of the need to recognise the economic causes of war, in line with much other thinking outlined in this chapter.41 3 THE ‘ANGLO-SAXON’ NEW WORLD ORDER … 91

The longevity of Beveridge’s thinking can still be clearly seen in a later publication that summed up the main currents of thinking within the Resistance between 1940 and 1944 in general.42 So we can have a pretty good idea what many of the key foci for these discussions were, ones which in effect signalled the beginning of a realisation on the French Left, and indeed more widely, of the need for the post-war reality to be one based on the notion of ‘reconstruction’. As the discussions developed during the war the SFIO found themselves working increasingly with William Jowitt, the Labour Party Solicitor General and Minister for Reconstruction within the British Government, and later the main architect of National Insurance in 1944. Another important point of contact was with the London International Assembly, a body that met throughout most of the war and made a significant impact on thinking about the post-war organisation of the UN and about war crimes tribunals, as well as matters of social policy.43 In all these debates the Beveridge Report figured as a key point of departure. The ghosts of history were as often evoked in the papers of the Com- mission and the Sous-Commission Sociale as they were in the PWP papers emanating from London and Washington. Like in PWP, and from their first meetings in early 1942, none of the members of either body envisaged a return to the pre-war status quo, though they took ample note of pre-war social legislation. A key idea was to avoid ‘le marasme économique dans lequel le pays s’enfermait de plus en plus’. In a report that was produced in March 1943 by the Institut de la Conjoncture (1937–1945, set up by the demographer and historian Alfred Sauvy) they also rejected the competitive devaluations and the attendant deflation of the inter- war period. They realised that this would mean a very different set of French macro-economic policies from now on. But, maybe surprisingly given that some of the members were of the Left, they also rejected an overall ‘autarkic’ approach, as in the USSR. The future of France had to be ‘international’, for an autarkic system would put in danger ‘l’équilibre économique et la paix du monde’. Moreover this new system had to be based on free access to primary commodities, markets, and most of all, to ‘l’établissement internationale d’un niveau de vie minimum’.44 But there were evident fissures in the Sous-Commission when it came to putting some detail to these broad ideas. There was also clear confusion about how all this was to be paid for. France was bankrupt, there would be huge demands on the Allied resources. Some of this was to be addressed by the 92 A. J. WILLIAMS

UNRRA and the subsequent Marshall Plan initiatives (see Chapter 4) but in the period before June 1944 much of this was still moot. Perhaps the most important document produced by the Sous- Commission that seemingly supported the American PWP process came in September 1942 in a discussion of world orders. The view expressed there was that France had to face up to the fact that it had escaped ‘de justesse [by the skin of its teeth]’ in 1918 and that it had gone on to ‘lose the peace’, even worse ‘it [France] had lost its soul. It must be refound [Elle avait perdue son âme. Elle doit la retrouver]’. The reason why Hitler had appealed to many in Europe was because he had given economic ‘hope’ with his ‘nouveau ordre (allemand)’, while the democracies had pursued economic nationalism, including in the United States, and in Britain (with the 1932 Ottawa Agreement). The Atlantic Charter gave hope that they had now put this behind them, but these proposals were still ‘vague’ and left the details ‘dans l’ombre’. But they liked Welles’ initial ideas for ‘international economic collaboration’, guarantees for individual liberties and ‘une économie bien dirigée’. First there had to be (as Welles agreed) a ‘plan de ravitaillement’ (as UNRRA was to become), then job security for all to counter Hitler’s propaganda, then international solutions passing through a combination (initially) of regional arrangements and ﬁnally one that was ‘universal’ like the League had tried to do.45 This was broadly what was to emerge with the later discussions at Bret- ton Woods, in which there was some French participation as observers. But in this, as in so much else, the Free French were usually reduced to reading reports in the (British Labour Party’s semi-ofﬁcial organs) The Daily Herald or the Daily Mirror. In one such report H. G. Wells was reported as calling the Atlantic Charter ‘an ambiguous document stuffed full of escape clauses [un document ambigu et farci d’échappatoires]’. Even worse Hammond Foot is reported to have called it a ‘document full of hypothetical platitudes in the style of [the Treaty of] Versailles’.46 How- ever, many in the SFIO leadership realised that after the war the United States, Russia and Britain would be the dominant powers, whether they liked it or not. The Atlantic Charter, vague as it may have been, could have its advantages as a way of reforming France and Europe as well, especially if the SFIO’s Labour Party allies came to power in Britain. Much attention was given to a speech by South African Prime Minister General Jan Smuts to the House of Commons on 25 November 1943, who praised the Atlantic Charter as a blueprint for European peace. Ray- mond Haas-Picard, before the war a member of the Banque de France 3 THE ‘ANGLO-SAXON’ NEW WORLD ORDER … 93

(and a Prefect after it in the Bouches du Rhone) in London commended the speech to Mayer in Algiers as a realistic assessment of the likely weight of Western Europe in global politics, even if Haas-Picard was alarmed by Smuts’ ‘seeming praise for Germany, or at least for the German people’. Britain would be severely damaged by the war, but the threat from Ger- many would in effect be gone for the time being, and this would give France a chance to ally with Britain in a revived idea of ‘union’, with the ‘smaller democracies’. That might mean danger for France if Germany were to come back, even if France unified with Belgium, Holland, Swe- den, maybe even Switzerland. These were ‘dangerous perspectives’, and in early 1944 he returned to the theme after a long talk with Dalton. Haas- Picard also told Mayer that the German question would be determinate for all these proposals, and that Dalton was canvassing views, through a questionnaire, about how Germany should be treated.47 What should happen about war criminals, reparations, where should the frontiers be? Haas-Picard was right to be worried about British attitudes towards Germany in the sense that on the whole British officials preferred a stable and unified Germany for, as Keynes put it to top Ameri- can officials Harriman, Berle, Acheson and Pasvolsky in September 1943: ‘[w]ould anyone want German industry run by Soviet Commissars?’ In this the Americans came to concur, and the later 1948 Marshall Plan aimed at a strong Germany able to stand up to the USSR and, in the words of a key American report, the need for a ‘Viable Plan for Post- War Germany’.48 But this was not immediately reassuring for the French, whose main view about the Treaty of Versailles and its aftermath was that France had been betrayed by Anglo-Saxon perfidy (a view reinforced by Etienne Mantoux’s posthumously published book on the topic in 1946). Mantoux’s father Paul had been the main interpreter at the Council of Four in 1919.49 Such discussions about the future of Germany and Europe became common in the twelve months before the Normandy landings of 6 June 1944. Could Germany be trusted or should it be accepted as a re- educated, demilitarized, democratic state? Not only the SFIO but also the PCF expressed these hopes. And most of all, could there be a ‘socialist plan for Europe’? Could there even be a ‘Etats Unis du Monde’?50 Given the similar discussions in Washington, such as those that led to the Morgenthau Plan of early 1944 for the reduction of a demilitarized Ger- many to an agricultural state divided into zones (see below, p. 102),51 these ideas had a remarkable symmetry with the other Allies, and made 94 A. J. WILLIAMS the Labour Party link vital for the Free French to contribute indirectly to the process of PWP. Such relative optimism was countered by others, like the prominent Socialist (and later a member of the French delegation to ECOSOC) Georges Boris, who feared that the post-war world would be one where the ‘new world would impose its will on the old [le nouveau monde sera en mesure d’imposer ses directives à l’Ancien’]’. The Americans must be distrusted, as they will not present this as ‘imperialism’ but as ‘altruism’. But what they will really bring is not the ‘New Deal’ (which he agrees with), but ‘risk and competition’. And once Roosevelt left the scene, as he must, Big Business will take over, and a Boom will be organised. In all of this Europe will be subjected to ‘les panacées du liberalisme’, free trade as described in the Atlantic Charter, but without much clar- ity as to whether this Anglo-American statement would be extended to Europe. He further speculated that the United States might ‘experiment with monetary manipulation [tenter l’expérience de dirigisme monetaire]’. But how could there be ‘free’ trade when after the war the United States would have huge positive credit balances with all other countries? The inevitable result would be that Europeans would see any new system as ‘purely provisional’.52 Boris had but one answer, and that was to turn to the other Anglo- Saxons, the British. His time in London had clearly impressed him that Britain was more and more interested in a ‘planned economy’. Britain was showing that Europe could pursue a different, classless, road, based on ‘the principle of salvation, or even of the common good [le sentiment du salut ou simplement du bien commun]’. This would not be without problems, the USA and even the USSR would try and divide Europe, with the latter seen as being more of a friend, but one to keep at arm’s length. For it was up to France to ‘direct and represent this coalition of European interests [diriger et représenter cette coalition des interêts européenes]’, with the British playing a role if possible. By this he meant that it depended on Britain remaining closer to Europe than to the United States. Europe should therefore be independent of the United States, for Europe had now ‘arrived at a more advanced stage [parvenue à une stade plus avancée]’ than the United States. And to make sure it stayed that way Europe must keep its own armaments.53 So the lack of a central French voice in the PWP process, and particularly in the elaboration of a world order that would be dominated by ‘superpower’ interests did not mean that French ideas were lacking. But 3 THE ‘ANGLO-SAXON’ NEW WORLD ORDER … 95 they were largely at this stage hidden away in committees like the ones described above. Some French greeted the prospect of the emerging dominance of the Anglo-Saxon powers with undisguised joy. Alexis Léger, aka the poet St.-John Perse, former Sécretaire Générale of the French Foreign Ministry, 1932–1940, wrote from his American exile to his muse Kather- ine, the wife of the key American judge at the Nuremberg War Crimes Trial, Stephen Biddle, in September 1945, that:

I am profoundly happy to note the legitimate and increasing authority that is devolving upon America in Europe, thanks to the dazzling prestige of its arms and to the magniﬁcent strategical and tactical intelligence that capped the miracle of the war industries that had prepared the way.54

Léger had turned down de Gaulle’s invitation to be one of the Free French representatives in the United States, pleading exhaustion. But he was unusual in going so far as to refuse such a request among the prominent anti-Vichy French exiles (celebrated writer and pilot Antoine de St-Exupéry being another, which led to his books being banned in Algiers).55 Another prominent French exile whom we discussed in Chapter 1,former député Pierre Cot, had different views of the post-war world both within France and outside it. He was a prominent enemy within France of what he saw as the emblems of the old France of cartels, and the back-room deals between avaricious capitalists and complaisant politicians whom he, and many others, saw as being at the root of the decadence of the 1930s. His solution was to close down the nursery of the French intellectual and administrative elite, then and now, the Ecole libre de sciences politiques (‘Sciences Po’). As Nord suggests, he wished to replace it with a state-run Ecole nationale d’administration (ENA). This was indeed founded in October 1945, and initially set up during de Gaulle’s Pres- idency of the Provisional Government, and dominated by the Gaullist Michel Debré. Sciences Po survived as a semi-public institution, and is to this day seen as the initial step, through subsequent attendance at ENA to a top job in the French Civil Service, politics or industry.56 96 A. J. WILLIAMS

The Agenda(s) of the New World Order Emerge, 1944--1946

The world that the pre-Liberation Free French, as well the British and American Governments, confronted was clearly very different from that which succeeded Liberation. Plans were suddenly confronted with realities and the Clausewitzian dictum that all plans fail with their ﬁrst contact with the enemy was again to be proved right. The PWP planners had blueprints galore, for the post-war international organisation in particular, as will now be described, but many more besides. The agenda items that most concerned the French were those of 1919—Germany, security, Europe, economic stability, and how to deal with the Soviet Union—and each depended on the others. They were also central to the preoccupa- tions of the United States and Britain, but the trajectories of the three states were to be divergent in important ways after 1945, and in particular after de Gaulle became President of the Fourth Republic in 1958 and the Fifth in October of the same year. We have already noted that the Free French, a heterogeneous organisation headed by de Gaulle, but with plenty of internal powerful dissident voices, looked to try and balance the future role of the United States with a renewed intellectual and practical cooperation with the British. This was a view most clearly expressed by the SFIO led by the ‘old guard’ like Blum and Auriol as well as the young wolves of the future like Mollet. All three played an important symbolic and practical political role in the GPRF and Fourth Republic. De Gaulle spent much of the period after January 1946, when he resigned as Chairman (the equivalent of Prési- dent du Conseil in the GPRF), and being re-installed in the same role by President of France René Coty in May 1958 after a long period of internal exile, largely divorced from active politics (see also Chapter 6).57

The United Nations, 1944–194558 As we have stressed, the idea of a global international organisation was not a solely ‘Anglo-Saxon’ idea. France had played a signiﬁcant role in the nineteenth century in the development of institutional structures to arbitrate between warring states, and had played an even more signiﬁcant role during the First World War, with the Bourgeois Commission. But in 1944–1945 the Quai d’Orsay’s view was essentially that Europe’s fate was now being decided by three ‘non-European Powers’ (sic), which were the 3 THE ‘ANGLO-SAXON’ NEW WORLD ORDER … 97

United States, the Soviet Union and Britain.59 The most they could try to do was to mitigate this dominance in some way and to try and participate in the making of future decisions. A key part of the future world order would be the creation of an organisational structure to live up to the promise of the Declaration in early 1942 of the ‘United Nations’. France had played a determinate role in similar thinking in 1918–1919. Many in the United States thought that had been the main problem with the resulting League of Nations. In a ‘Note’ to de Gaulle reviewing the American press in April 1943 he was told that the experience of 1919 had showed many in the United States that victorious states could no longer ‘keep conquered peoples in a state of humiliation [garder les peuples vaincus dans une situation humil- iée]’, but also that the League of Nations had appeared as a sort of ‘Holy Alliance of the victors against the vanquished’. So peace had now to be seen as ‘a state of perpetual transition [une transition perpétuelle]’ and it was this idea of ‘transition’ which now counted.60 This was no doubt unfair on the League itself: for an organisation is only as good as its members and the use that has been made of it. As its last Director Gen- eral, Joseph Avenol, wrote to Blum in December 1945, ‘The League of Nations has become the collective alibi of those whose weakness allowed Hitler to come to power.’ But he added ‘I humbly share in that dis- grace’.61 It was too late for regrets as the rules of the game were now being made in Washington, not Paris. The Sub-Committee of the PWP process that started work to consider the organisation of the UN in August 1942 put some ﬂesh on the relevant passages of the Atlantic Charter of August 1941. Initially this was mainly to discuss a memorandum by Smuts on the question of ‘Trusteeship’, in succession to Smuts’ ideas of 1919 on ‘mandates’ within the LON. This was naturally of major interest to the French as the entire colonial question was a main bone of contention between both the British and French with the Americans.62 But whereas Smuts’ memorandum was discussed at length, there was no input from any French counterpart.63 At the beginning of 1942, when Berle was helping draw up a list of possible future UN members for Roosevelt and Stimson, he remarked to Roosevelt that ‘[d]e Gaulle has not yet asked to adhere, which is just as well for the time being’. Other far less important states were so invited, such as Denmark, whose ‘Minister we know and trust’.64 As we saw in the previous chapter, de Gaulle was even less 98 A. J. WILLIAMS

‘trusted’ by the end of 1942 after the tussle between him and Roosevelt at Casablanca (see above, Chapter 2, pp. 51–53). The PWP process insofar as it concerned the future of the UN was dominated by British and American officials, and especially Bowman and Pasvolsky for the United States, even if they often fell out over a number of issues. Stimson, Pasvolsky, Knox, and many others, were loth to trust anyone except, for most of them, the British, in designing a post-war order. They agreed it must be based on a ‘close association between the English-speaking countries’. Stimson told Hull and Knox in May 1943 that ‘[h]ere we are on a raft which has just barely saved us from the wreck in the storm [the raft being the association of the British Commonwealth and the U.S.]; don’t let us abandon that raft for the purpose of trying to construct a new boat which will carry us through the post-war grind swells that are sure to come…’ Both Knox and Hull agreed. A few weeks later Stimson put it even more succinctly to Churchill himself—a future world order must be something that grows out of the war itself—‘an alliance between the people who are really fighting now and whom our people have come to trust’. Roosevelt was more alarmed about what the French, or more specifically de Gaulle, might do to upset the Anglophone harmony. Stimson records him sending a ‘red hot telegram’ to get Eisen- hower [by this point CiC U.S. troops in Europe] to restrain de Gaulle as he was ‘thoroughly alarmed about the situation which would occur if de Gaulle had possession of… French troops. He says this must not happen and he has authorised Eisenhower to take full steps to prevent it’. De Gaulle was ‘a man who is of so unstable a character that he might actually get up a fight between his troops and ours.’65 This was a worry even a full year before D-Day, and got worse after it. To push the balance of influence against de Gaulle even further, militarily the French were a derisory consideration for London and Washington, the French Resistance could maybe impede the Germans after D-Day but would never be anything more than an important irritant. That compared with the millions of military personnel engaged by the Commonwealth, not to mention the tens of millions of Russians on the Eastern Front and in the U.S. armed forces of the Pacific and European theatres. Were the French ‘really’ fighting? What weight would an economically disabled France bring to the post-war order? As well as the common military war effort Pasvolsky and the Stimson- Knox-Hull triumvirate pointed to the vast importance of the British Com- monwealth for trade. As Pasvolsky put it in March 1944: ‘the crucial 3 THE ‘ANGLO-SAXON’ NEW WORLD ORDER … 99 problem is a meeting of minds between ourselves and the British Com- monwealth of Nations, since between them… [they] account for well over one-half of the world’s total international trade’.66 As a result of such thinking, the French were not present at any of the discussions about the future of the UN and world order more widely. They were quite simply not seen as having enough skin in the game. Just before the Moscow Conference, attended by Eden, Hull and Molotov in August 1943 an organisation was set up to deal with liberated Europe, the European Advisory Commission (EAC). Eden suggested that they might be prepared to permit French membership as a named state ‘if she should recover her greatness’ with the EAC renamed as the ‘United Nations Commission for Europe.’67 Molotov and Hull agreed. France was also not invited to the conference held in Washington at Dumbarton Oaks in August 1944, though she was discussed, and was accepted as probable future ‘Permanent Member’ in the discussion of the creation of a UN ‘Security Council’ at the 6th meeting on 28 August 1944, billed as a major realist advance on the LON Council. Even at this stage, after the D-Day landings, the Permanent Under-Secretary of the FO, Sir Alexander Cadogan, thought this was acceptable but to go any further would be to ‘put our head into a hornet’s nest’.68 Consideration of the feelings of the United States was clearly one major element behind this British reticence. France was finally admitted to the EAC on 27 August 1944 once the GPRF had been formed after the liberation of Paris. French Ambassador to London René Massigli recorded that the now retired Welles had stated in his recent book that he ‘did not consider France as being a key member of the permanent council [directoire permanent] of the Powers’.69 But as will be noted below (pp. 109–112) France was still not invited to the Yalta and Potsdam Conferences in February and July 1945.

Où va la France? Et où va le monde? Given the widespread feeling in Free French circles that the United States wished to exclude France from deliberations about the UN or indeed the future of the international system, a feeling which only slowly dissipated after Yalta, it is unsurprising that there was hesitation about what world was being created. No one in France was sure about what would happen after the Liberation. As a former Socialist premier and still of the SFIO, Blum received many letters asking him questions like the one in the sub- title above.70 Given the growing importance of the thinking of Jean-Paul 100 A. J. WILLIAMS

Sartre at this time, the use of the word ‘existential’ to describe a generalised French self-doubt is not overblown. Many in France, and beyond, were convinced that more conﬂict would now erupt, the ‘torment’ was only just beginning.

Justice and Retribution If there is one subject that obsessed the French, at all levels and of all political attributes, during and after the Second World War, it was that of ‘justice’. From the show trials to blame the Third Republic for the collapse of France in 1940, organised by the Vichy regime, to the end of the trials of those accused of collaboration, known as the épuration [cleansing], many articles and books were written, so many that it would be impossible to explicate them all. In the words of French Senator Anatole de Monzie, this was ‘La saison des juges’.71 This ‘season’ emerged from a profound feeling of disgust on all sides in France, and more widely in Europe, about how the state of affairs on the Continent had deteriorated to such a point that another war had broken out so soon after the ‘War to End All Wars’, as David Lloyd George had infamously called it in 1918. Who was to blame for being the ‘fossoyeurs’ [grave diggers] of not only the Third Republic, but also of Western Civilization? For some, usually but not always on the Right, it was the Bolsheviks and the ‘Jews’. De Monzie voted for Pétain in the Senate in 1940, was a friend of Darquier de Pelle- poix, the notorious Vichy ‘Commissioner for Jewish Affairs [Commissaire aux Affaires Juives]’,72 and was thus a collaborator. However de Monzie can be seen as having held conservative views largely representative of his class and status. He was not shot by the Resistance, as Darquier would undoubtedly have been had the Resistance laid their hands on him (he died in his bed in Spain in the 1950s). For yet others, again on both Left and Right, it was ‘decadent’ and grasping politicians, incompetent soldiers and economists, and anyone else that could conveniently be blamed. The expressions ‘revolution’ and ‘counter-revolution’ were used by all sides to justify their disgust. Those who were most attacked, like the former (Jewish) Prime Minister of France in 1936, Léon Blum, were put before show-trials in Riom, near Vichy and subsequently deported to Germany, Blum to a concentration camp from which he miraculously returned alive (see above, Chapter 2, pp. 43–45).73 3 THE ‘ANGLO-SAXON’ NEW WORLD ORDER … 101

Blum was unusual in that he tried to learn entirely positive lessons from what had been a terrifying experience. Hence his equation of ‘reconstruction’ with ‘justice’ was based on the belief that material progress and justice were coterminous. Blum and the Resistance more widely shared the belief that the war had destroyed ‘not only material things and human lives, but also systems of ideas and social relationships’.74 How could those be mended? In the immediate aftermath of the liberation of France, the ambition of the Free French to deal with the worst elements among the French collaborators, ‘criminals the likes of which we have never seen’,75 mirrored thinking on what do with war criminals more widely.

The Origins of ‘War Crimes’ and ‘Crimes Against Humanity’ The expression ‘retributive justice’ is one that dates from the period after the end of the Cold War, but the much older notion of ‘retribution’ was given an immense fillip by the emphasis on ‘war crimes’ during the latter part of the Second World War and its aftermath. The United States played a determinate role in this development as it had in many other areas of international theory and practice. David Mayers rightly says the aim was ‘to resuscitate meaningful standards of international conduct’.76 In the contemporary words of Robert H. Jackson, the American Prose- cutor at the Nuremberg International Military Tribunal on 14 November 1945, the intention of the Tribunal was to ‘make statesmen responsible to law’ in a way that they had never been before. He also made clear that ‘while this law is first applied against German aggressors… if it is to serve a useful purpose it must condemn aggression by any other nations, including those which sit here now in judgement.’77 This was a radical departure from the ‘legal realism’ that had always prevailed hitherto; states could only be guilty of breaking the laws of war, the norms of fighting, so ius in bello. ‘Criminal liability’, at least until the Paris Peace talks that led to the Treaty of Versailles, had been the sole preserve of the state that carried out military action. After all, states had been guilty of crimes against civilians since time immemorial, and during both the First and the Second World Wars all sides used exemplary military force against non- combatants as massacres of civilians in Belgium by the German army or carpet bombing by both sides may be said to show. None of these had led to serious war crimes trials, bar some half-hearted and unsuccessful, attempts to prosecute Ottoman officials for the Armenian massacres of 102 A. J. WILLIAMS

1915 and the indictment (but not the active prosecution) of the Kaiser as the instigator of the First World War.78 But the Second World War had expanded on the results of ‘Total War’ in very new ways, and that across not just Europe, but also across swathes of Asia. The 1920s and 1930s had seen war solemnly denounced as ‘il- legal’ in the Kellogg-Briand Pact of 1928. This led President Herbert Hoover’s then Secretary of State, and later Roosevelt’s Secretary of War, Henry Stimson, to declare in 1932 that in future those who started wars would be judged as ‘lawbreakers’. In Linda Bishai’s words Stimson had signalled a ‘shift in the international order… the total elimination of war as a legitimate act.’79 But this ‘idealist’ view had to be balanced, as it had in Paris in 1919, with political and strategic realities. There continued to be severe disagreements within the Roosevelt Administration about how much weight to give to pursuing ‘war criminals’. After all, that might prove to be a double-edged sword, as is still shown by American non- ratification of the 1999 International Criminal Court (ICC). Roosevelt had been outraged by the shooting of French hostages by the Germans in October 1941, an act that he declared ‘will one day bring fearful retribution’. But what if such retribution led to ‘German revenge against Allied prisoners of war’, as Arieh Kochavi has put it? There were also long memories of the conceptual and legal confusion in which the various treaties after the First World War had left the concept of a ‘war criminal’. In broad terms the whole debate fell between a number of cracks, between powerful officials and pressing questions about the pursuit of the armed struggle.80 The issue could not be put off forever, as more and more evidence of German atrocities came to light. The American ‘Morgenthau Plan’ for Germany, was formally accepted at the Second Quebec Conference in September 1944, though never implemented. Morgenthau, Roosevelt’s Secretary for the Treasury and close to the President, was convinced that Germany must be rendered incapable of waging war in the future. His 1944 memorandum, a Suggested Post-Surrender Program for Germany, included measures to demilitarize and partition Germany ‘in the shortest possible period of time after surrender’.81 The Plan was viewed by Stim- son (in the privacy of his Diary) as at least partly dictated by Morgen- thau’s ‘Semitic grievances’.82 Notwithstanding that prejudice the main issue remained as to how to influence the future behaviour of Germany. After France was liberated, Stimson recorded in his diary in October 1944 that he talked first to Averell Harriman (at that time US Ambassador to 3 THE ‘ANGLO-SAXON’ NEW WORLD ORDER … 103 the Soviet Union, 1943–1946) and then to John McCloy, his Assistant Secretary for War (1941–1945) about how to change the mentality of Germany after the war and restore a ‘freedom… where the government [no longer] uses a secret police to dominate its citizens’. These police had ‘depraved’ the Germans, and some sort of tribunal must be established to undo the subsequent harm. Stimson decided upon a new crime in old clothes, needing ‘a trial for conspiracy involving the leader and the actors all the way down to who had taken part in the different atrocity camps and mass murder places’. He told Ambassador John Winant in London that this could be summed up as a ‘conspiracy charge’.83 Beyond Washington, as Philippe Sands has reminded us so well, the ideas of ‘crimes against humanity’ and ‘genocide’ were being formulated as the war turned in the Allies’ favour. The lawyers Hersch Lauterpacht and Rafael Lemkin, both Jewish exiles from what was then Lemberg (currently Lwow in Poland) now living in Britain and the United States respectively, had different foci within their common desire to define what had happened in the Second World War. Lauterpacht was chiefly concerned with the future protection of individuals, Lemkin of groups84; both created categories of judgement that have profoundly marked the era since 1945. We can link the actions and thinking of politicians like Stim- son and these eminent lawyers in a statement by Stimson at the beginning of the war in October 1939: ‘The aim of the Allies should not be to crush Germany indiscriminately but to cast the Nazi system as recreant to and destructive of the Caucasian civilization of Europe’,85 an aim now to be given legal teeth in the same way as it had already been given military force. Some subsequent international lawyers, and historians like Mark Mazower, have condemned the result of the ensuing United Nations Declaration on Human Rights for putting the emphasis on the ‘self- determination of peoples’, an idea first mooted by Woodrow Wilson in his ‘14 Points’ of January 1918. Mazower complains that ‘what the Revi- sionists and Nazis had called for in the 1930s, the Allies now promoted – ethnic homogeneity as a desirable feature of national self-determination and international stability’.86 This also reflects a feeling by many scholars at the time and since that the individual guilt of many perpetrators of atrocities were often forgotten in the need for Allied unity as the Cold War developed. We could link these legitimate complaints with the thought that the underlying conception of ‘civilization’ that was being defended 104 A. J. WILLIAMS was essentially that of Europeans, or those of European and ‘Caucasian’, so white, descent. The French experience was clearly different from that of either of the Anglo-Saxon powers, neither of which had seen much of their territory occupied or their citizens deported to death camps.87 As an occupied state, France had been a direct victim of German war crimes, and its Vichy Government had been an active and often willing participant. The growing activism of the French Resistance from 1941 on and the cooperation of various parts of the Resistance with the British SOE who we have seen had dropped arms and helped deploy fighters, had resulted in an increasingly bloody response from Vichy and the Germans. SOE saw their role as a ‘detonator’ that would help set up ‘“secret armies” across Europe. Civil unrest and guerrilla warfare were to be encouraged.’88 But this ‘encouragement’ of civil unrest led to brutal repression as with the total destruction in July 1944 of Oradour sur Glane by the Das Reich Divi- sion. The historian of SOE, M. R. D. Foot, acknowledges that ‘[u]seful as this policy of terrorism was in making the Germans jumpy, it undoubtedly – indeed deliberately – attracted severe reprisals, usually wreaked on the neighbourhood where the killing had taken place and not on the men who had done the job.’89 As Jan T. Gross reminds us, retribution took many different forms in different parts of Europe, depending on the crimes committed and by whom.90 In France the primary urge was that of the épuration of former members of the Vichy Government at national and local level, as well as the often physical liquidation of other collaborators in organisations like the Vichy Milice.91 Across Europe partisans had been summarily executed or tortured and then executed, as they were in France. The French often remember in particular the fate of Resistance leaders Jean Moulin and Marc Bloch, the latter a survivor of Dunkirk and a prominent historian of the Annales School.92 The Free French were largely concerned with crimes by individuals. The process by which they did that épuration has often been somewhat severely dealt with by historians for its partial and unfair nature.93 This was also true of other resistance movements that were able to put their own traitors on trial, such as the Norwegians. And like the Norwegians, who executed the collaborator Vidkun Quisling, they were not averse to using the death penalty. But the public reaction could vary. In Oslo, British diplomat Lawrence Collier reported that the trail was not conducted in any spirit of vindictiveness; he reported that proceedings led 3 THE ‘ANGLO-SAXON’ NEW WORLD ORDER … 105 to ‘a general feeling of national self-satisfaction … [as well as] dignity and fairness’. But he did not see the same qualities in the trial of Laval in France, where ‘there was a conspicuous lack of either quality’.94 It is certainly true that at least 30–40,000 executions of collaborators by the Resistance (of which about 10,000 with no meaningful ‘trial’) took place in France before and after the Liberation, with some estimates going as high as 120,000. According to Philip Novick, there were more executions ‘in absolute terms’ than anywhere else in Western Europe. Surpris- ingly when it comes to collaborators France imprisoned only 94 out of every 100,000 ‘Frenchmen’, most of whom had been released by decree by 1949. In Norway, even more surprisingly, a similar analysis gives 633 per 100,000.95 In the East the figures were far higher, where Stimson’s ‘secret police’ tightened its grip as the Red Army rolled forward. This initial seeming brutality was probably inevitable in the fog of war after June 1944, and in light of the collective disgust and guilt that many French felt about their own or others’ collaboration. There were also constant reminders in the period after the opening up of the German concentration camps of what being a ‘déporté’ had meant. A great number of French people deemed by the German occupiers and the Vichy Commissariat aux affaires juives as disposable in the Nazi Neueordnung were killed in the camps, about 72,500 out of a pre-war total of about 150,000 Jewish French nationals. Although it has often been said that a majority of French Jews survived the Holocaust, that was mainly due to the vast number living in Northern Africa in 1940. The French police were reasonably diligent in applying Vichy Jewish registration and deportation laws, as were officials like Darquier de Pellepoix. He has left his traces in the (Vichy) Quai d’Orsay archives, where he was enthusiastic in recommending to the American Embassy to Vichy not to allow the granting of US immigration visas to ‘undesirables’.96 Subsequent scholars have pointed to the often ‘bad faith’ of the general French population to their Jewish countrymen.97 One who we have seen miraculously survived deportation was Léon Blum, who was warmly welcomed home from the notorious German concentration camp at Buchenwald by a great number of his Socialist comrades as well as celebrated authors like André Gide and Roger Martin du Gard.98 Blum’s main concern was to return both the SFIO and France to their former glory, but principally to make sure that the mistakes of 1919 were not repeated. As Sabinus Valière, one of his SFIO and Resistance correspondents reminded him in May 1945, that meant the SFIO must 106 A. J. WILLIAMS be determined to avoid ‘a ridiculous dismemberment [morcellement]of Europe and a war of revenge’. It was essential to join with the British and Americans to achieve that aim, in spite of all the current ‘political waste [gachis politique actuel]’. For him that included not indulging in summary justice. He had the perfect cue for this when Pierre Laval wrote to him on the eve of his execution, pleading for his life from his cell. Laval’s request ‘not for absolution [grace] but for a new trial, or any trial’ was met with ruthless refusal by de Gaulle, but Blum did ask him to reconsider.99 The Free French hierarchy did give thought to how justice might be used to ‘degasify’ (take the gases out of) Europe, as did the other Allies. Marie-Bénédicte Vincent sees quite different aims among the three Allies. She feels that the United States was ‘hesitating between the thesis that Germans were collectively guilty and that of the failure of democratic forces in a modern society prey to many contradictions.’ Unlike the Soviet Union, which blamed capitalism for the Nazi phenomenon, the Ameri- cans could not accept a purely economic explanation, given their own experience of the Great Depression. Britain opted for a ‘liberal interpretation’ that Nazism was an ‘illness… leading to the victory of irrationalism.’ As for the French, their interpretation rested on both the time-honoured security fear of an aggressive Germany and a need to work on ‘German society to make it lose its aggressive and expansionist potential’. This, she says, led to the ‘objective of democratization’, summed up in de Gaulle’s ‘Directives pour notre action en Allemagne’ of 20 July 1945.100 Rainer Hudemann feels that the French, in their ‘zone’ of occupied Germany at least, tried to emphasize German ‘personal responsibility’ rather than membership of Nazi organisations but that this approach was a failure, due to the ‘schematic American system imposed after 1947’, a judgment that needs more clarification.101 We will look at how the future of Ger- many worked out in the next chapter.

UNRRA: Precursor to the Marshall Plan

The emergence of a humanitarian agenda during and after the Second World War has often been seen as a logical extension, like much else in PWP, of being linked to the American domestic political agenda of the Roosevelt era, and especially his ‘New Deal’. It can be linked horizon- tally to the contemporary emergence of discourses on ‘reconstruction’ and ‘development’. Mark Mazower also links it to the emergence of IOs, 3 THE ‘ANGLO-SAXON’ NEW WORLD ORDER … 107 and in particular the UN, as an expression of a need to preserve British, and more widely European, influence in the world in the coming aftermath of Empire.102 Among his considerations Mazower first points to the role of Smuts as an architect of the ‘Mandates’ system of the League, from which Smuts’s (then) British Dominion and later Republic of South Africa directly benefitted. Second, he also shows that Alfred Zimmern, the great inter-war British IR theorist, used the League and UN as a way of highlighting his own belief in the ‘Commonwealth’ idea, one that persists in British foreign policy (and even in the name of the British Foreign and Commonwealth Office). And third, he suggests that the League’s interest in Minority Rights had a direct influence on Rafael Lemkin, the above- mentioned architect of the notion of ‘genocide’. This thesis has much to recommend it as a reminder that the debate on humanitarian action, a more human-centred approach to justice, as well as that on reconstruction, had roots that are clearly to be seen in the League of Nations, an IO that the United States never joined, even if President Woodrow Wil- son was the major mover of it in the Paris Peace Conference. The League was often air-brushed out of the debate because of its alleged ‘failure’ to achieve anything in the inter-war period, a tendency that now is being rapidly revised.103 So, we have to look beyond, while in no way dismissing, the more standard thesis that the themes of this section can take their initial cue from Roosevelt’s ‘Third Freedom’, ‘Freedom from Want’, in his State of the Union Speech of January 1941. When Roosevelt spoke about the concept he said it, ‘… translated in to world terms, means economic understandings which will secure to every nation everywhere a healthy peacetime life for its inhabitants - everywhere in the world’.104 The institutional result while he was President was the establishment in early 1942 of the Office of Foreign Relief and Rehabilitation (OFRRO). This was then upgraded in February 1943 to become the first UN agency, the United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Administration (UNRRA). This was followed up by the even more ambitious State Department’s European Recovery Program (ERP or Marshall Plan, discussed mainly in Chapter 4). UNRRA was a massive undertaking, and well described as a ‘pioneer international agency’.105 Roosevelt put a trusted colleague, Governor Herbert H. Lehman, who had succeeded him as Governor of New York State, in charge of it. Lehman reported directly to the President and Hull and was given a very open mandate.106 Its budget was colossal, $1.8– 2 billion, of which 90% was spent on providing goods and supplies and 108 A. J. WILLIAMS

10% foreign currency. Half of the total was to go to China alone. At its peak between June 1945 and June 1946, its staff reached a total of 12,893.107 It can be rightly said that it delivered a far higher percent- age of these supplies to those who directly needed them than most successor aid agencies, mostly far more bureaucratically top heavy. In the words of UNRRA staffer W. D. Philips, its approach was ‘helping people to help themselves’.108 This very scope meant the organisation was often inevitably criticised for not measuring up to its own high ambitions. Lehman kept a letter in his files from Robert S. Marcus, Director of World Jewish Affairs of the American Jewish Congress who referred to Lehman as ‘one who has such a keen interest in the rehabilitation of the destitute and broken peoples of Europe.’ But nearly simultaneously other prominent American Jewish figures like Moses A. Leavitt, of the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, were agreeing that UNRRA could not do everything for the huge numbers of displaced people (IDPs) that were on the march in Europe in 1945–1946 - by his assessment 215,000 in France, Belgium and Holland, and many more to the East.109 Lehman resigned in March 1946, and the organisation had begun to hand over control to more permanent local organisations by August, and was wound up in June 1947. Lehman was forced to defend his agency’s reputation and legacy and to encourage those in Britain like the Labour Party’s Noel- Baker and future Foreign Secretary (after April 1945) Ernest Bevin who had supported UNRRA and were also to be supporters of the Marshall Plan.110 UNRRA’s critics were essentially arguing about the merits and demer- its of multilateralism, a debate that has continued ever since, and for important reasons. In spite of a firm US grip on both the budget and much of the operational side, many Americans criticized letting foreigners use US cash, while non-Americans criticised too much American control. Lehman was thus obliged to defend the obvious merits of ‘decentraliza- tion’ in Washington, while simultaneously defending US interference in Britain and France. René Massigli, de Gaulle’s main foreign policy advisor until the Summer of 1944, and by August French Ambassador in London, protested in November 1944111 that the GPRF had no need of American ‘special assistance from UNRRA’. He softened the blow by adding, that ‘[o]n the other hand, when a man is strong he will accept the cooperation of his friends’. Some British officials complained that there were enough starving people in Britain without worrying about continental needs.112 Somewhat surprisingly Herbert Hoover, former Republican President and 3 THE ‘ANGLO-SAXON’ NEW WORLD ORDER … 109 acknowledged great humanitarian in both World Wars was critical of both UNRRA and later the Marshall Plan for a lack of budgetary control in a Congressional Committee in January 1948, with Lehman saying Hoover’s ‘statement was anything but helpful’.113 Will Clayton, a principal architect of the Marshall Plan, felt obliged to be a major critic of UNRRA. He rued Washington’s forfeiture of exclusive decision-making authority while Americans bore the main financial burden. He felt that vigorous unilateral policies instead would produce political-economic div- idends for the United States, ‘far exceeding anything to arise from mushy- minded multilateralism…. We must avoid getting into another UNRRA, the United States must run this [ERP] show.’114

Conclusions: From Versailles to Yalta and Potsdam

Massigli’s reaction to UNRRA assistance does not mean that de Gaulle was worried that the United States was going to abandon France, and Europe, to its fate as it had in 1919. McCloy met de Gaulle in Paris just after Roosevelt’s death in April 1945. He pointed out to the leader of the GPRF that France and Belgium lay on the supply lines to Germany, and there was a real worry that France might collapse: ‘a stabilizing factor in Europe that does not elsewhere exist… [but]…they too can very well be torn apart by the collapse now in effect over Middle Europe’. Many of those now taking decisions were well aware that this had been a risk in 1919, but with France far less stable now than after the First World War. De Gaulle helped these worries resurface when he immediately replied to McCloy with the idea of a French security zone (‘suzeraineté’) along the German border, evoking nightmares of the 1920s. In return for this he said France would see ‘no difficulty in working out… any security objectives which the United States had in the Pacific’.115 McCloy cannot have been happy to be promised a few colonies in the Pacific in return for yet another French army in the Ruhr in the same spirit of the disastrous horse trading of 1919. This unreconstructed Gaullist logic was one reason why France was still not invited to the Yalta Confer- ence in January 1945 and the Potsdam Conference in July–August 1945. At Yalta Stalin explicitly included France as one of the ‘small states’ that had not done enough during the war to merit being given an equal voice with the Big Three in the Security Council or the UN more widely, a seemingly deliberate refusal by Churchill, Roosevelt and Stalin to take France seriously as a defeated power.116 De Gaulle showed he would not 110 A. J. WILLIAMS be bullied by Stalin during Yalta into accepting the fait accompli of the UN drafting conference at Dumbarton Oaks the previous August before he would be allowed to be a co-signatory with the Big Three of the invitation to the UN Conference in San Francisco. As Fraser Harbutt’s history of Yalta shows, such treatment ‘manifestly signify[ed France’s] lost status’, and also fostered a feeling in Paris that the French were now subject first to a ‘keenly disliked Anglo-American and then a United States- Soviet hegemony’.117 This is slightly unfair as at Yalta Churchill defended France’s right to a Security Council seat and to a role in the occupation of Germany and thus on the Allied Control Commission (ACC), decisions which in the end were endorsed with far more ease than those over Poland, for example.118 It may have been particularly galling to de Gaulle to see his old adversary the former American Ambassador to Vichy, William D. Leahy, standing behind the Big Four leaders in the official photographs, now as one of Roosevelt’s key advisors.119 The American optimism of early 1945 is understandable as Yalta came in nearly the same week (mid-February) that launched the UN and the ‘Vandenberg Plan’ proposals for the ‘Big 5’ in the Security Council.120 But so is de Gaulle’s further sense of humiliation. His deeply felt reaction of 5 November 1944 had been: ‘The Allies are betraying us, they’re betraying Europe, the bastards. But they’ll pay me for it. In fact they are already beginning to pay for it, especially the British.’121 As far as the prickly de Gaulle was concerned, and whenever he was in power, he made his displeasure felt. Even if by August 1945 there had been some Franco-American bridge-building much residual distrust remained. When President Truman met de Gaulle and his new foreign Minister Georges Bidault for the first time in August 1945, not long before de Gaulle fell from power (in January 1946), the conversation started with a discussion of the dire state of the French economy, its population dispersed by war and on the brink of starvation, and its coal mines in a terrible state, in desperate need of American aid.122 However, the most striking theme of the talks was that the ghost of Versailles still sat in the room. De Gaulle and Bidault were understandably as concerned about a possibly resurgent Germany as their forbears had been in 1919. They had been excluded from decisions made so far, even when they agreed with them, such as over the imposition of reparations, formally accepted in Moscow in late 1943. In the prelude to the talks at the Quai d’Orsay the top subjects of a political nature related to French territorial disagreements with Italy and Yugoslavia.123 In the 3 THE ‘ANGLO-SAXON’ NEW WORLD ORDER … 111 list of files provided by the Quai ‘of an economic nature’ that de Gaulle and Bidault wished to discuss the question of reparations came top for the French, followed by ‘control of Germany’ and ‘the supply [approvi- sionement] of France’. Even ‘oil [pétrole]’ was only added by hand as an afterthought.124 Indeed personality, politics and economics were symbi- otic within these discussions for both the American and French participants. However, as Patricia Clavin has pointed out, the main drive for reparations came from the Soviet Union. The British were not particularly interested one way or the other, though Keynes noted in the above-mentioned discussion with Harriman, Berle, Acheson and Pasvolsky in September 1943 that the term was ‘charged with emotional content and suffer[s] from association from past failure’. The British were prepared to go along with the American views on this, says Clavin, in the hope that it would ‘help to secure a favourable American response to more contentious issues in Anglo-American relations, such as the future treatment of the sterling area’. The phrase ‘elastic formula’ made its way into the documents, and elastic they were to prove, as only the USSR really imposed reparations after the war, and despite French desires that they should be imposed in Western Germany they were not (at least officially—there was looting of course).125 This French worry about excessive benevolence towards Germany, a clear echo of 1919, was especially important in view of the decisions made at Potsdam, from which it was pointedly remarked France had again been excluded. It seemed to the French that there had been ‘a prelude to the reconstruction of a central German authority’. A re-established Germany, thought de Gaulle, would be ‘even more dangerous than in the past’. Truman replied that he did not believe this likely, such was the ‘extent of the destruction’ and ‘very great loss of man power’ that he had seen with his own eyes. But de Gaulle recalled that after the last war that had also been true and then the Allies had deserted France and left her to her fate, so that a then enfeebled Germany had taken advantage of the ‘dissensions’ between the Allies. This time he felt that ‘Germany certainly will be tempted to play such a game’. Truman assured de Gaulle that ‘after the last war the Allies had acted unwisely, and that the United States for its part was determined not to commit the same errors.’ There would be no ‘financing of reparation as it had been done after the last war’. And France would not be deserted in her hour of need; ‘France could count on the friendship of the United States in the task [of reconstruction]’. 112 A. J. WILLIAMS

What was also new said Truman was the new international organisation and the atomic bomb ‘which will give pause to countries which might be tempted to commit aggressions.’126 De Gaulle’s main contribution to the immediate post-war situation was thus to remind Truman of the past and to get a clear statement from the new President that the United States was not going to desert Europe as it had in 1919. De Gaulle later disagreed with the way that Europe was to develop, though it is the British, not the French, who were to blame when the chance of a truly integrated and reconstructed Europe started to emerge in the 1950s and the British refused to join in (at least initially). American Presidents, and especially Truman, Eisenhower and Kennedy, tried very hard indeed to push London to support and be part of a successful European construct, but the countervailing forces of Impe- rial nostalgia defeated them until it was (nearly) too late. Britain then, and to a large extent now, did not warm to the idea of ‘Europe’ as the Ameri- cans wished them to. It preferred its global and transatlantic stance to the uncertainties of too much reliance on Berlin and Paris. That is part of the story we will explore in Chapter 4. However, the United States also succeeded in its primary goal of making France a key part of its creation of a peaceful Europe. As John S. Hill has put it: ‘American policy explicitly set out to make France a chief pillar of a revived postwar Europe. French policy explicitly sought to recapture France’s lost status as a great power’. Hill’s partly correct conclusion is that France mainly failed in that aim by the time de Gaulle left ofﬁce in January 1946, experiencing instead a ‘painful series of humiliations’, but that he did manage to tie France into the process of European reconstruction ‘drawing in American aid… [and] tighten[ing] French claims on Germany’.127 De Gaulle played a key role in making these aims reality. He should be allowed his place as a key creator of the post-1945 European and global order, a place that is often denied him by the prejudices of the ‘Anglo-Saxons’. His realism as a soldier was matched by his understanding of the horrors of war, the need to respect one’s defeated enemy, not humiliate him, and the need to create institutions that were authentic and locally supported, not ones that were imposed by idealists from the outside, however well-intentioned, as well as self-interested, they may be. The origins and results of that logic will be explored in Chapter 4,on Europe. 3 THE ‘ANGLO-SAXON’ NEW WORLD ORDER … 113

Notes

1. H. G. Wells, Interview with Stalin, New Statesman, 27 October 1934, https://www.newstatesman.com/politics/2014/04/h-g-wells-it- seems-me-i-am-more-left-you-mr-stalin (accessed 19 December 2017). 2. H. G. Wells, The New World Order: Whether It Is Attainable, How It Can Be Attained, and What Sort of World a World at Peace Will Have to Be (London: Secker and Warburg, 1940), pp. 9–18 ‘The End of an Ice Age’. The italics are those of Wells. 3. CFR, ‘Exhibit A: Progress Report on War Studies Project; Resumé by Groups’, 8 March 1940, Armstrong Papers, Box 74, Princeton Univer- sity Library. See also, on war crimes, this chapter, pp. 101–106. 4. For the CFR’s origins and existence in the inter-war period, see Inder- jeet Parmar, Think Tanks and Power in Foreign Policy (London: Palgrave, 2004); Andrew J. Williams, ‘Before the Special Relationship: The Coun- cil on Foreign Relations, The Carnegie Foundation and the Rumour of an Anglo-American War’, Journal of Transatlantic Studies, Vol. 1, No. 2, Autumn 2003, pp. 233–251. 5. E. H. Carr, Nationalism and After (London: Macmillan, 1945). 6. Lucian Ashworth, ‘Progressivism Triumphant? Isaiah Bowman’s New Diplomacy in a New World’, in Cornelia Navari and Molly Cochran (eds.), Progressivism at Bay: American Thinkers on War and Peace Dur- ing the Interwar Period (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2017). 7. Chatham House, Group XV ‘The Limits of Nationalism’ 9/12; Anglo- American Relations 9/15; Committee on Reconstruction, 9/19. See also ‘Study Groups, 1930–39’. 8. This section is drawn from: Andrew J. Williams, Failed Imagination: The Anglo-American New World Order from Wilson to Bush (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2007), esp. (on PWP) Chapter 3, pp. 90– 92. For an excellent overview of American plans, see David Mayers, America and the Postwar World: Remaking International Society, 1945– 1956 (London: Routledge, 2018). On Welles, see Christopher O’Sulli- van, Sumner Welles, Post-War Planning, and the Quest for a New World Order (New York: Columbia University Press, 2008); and Simon Rofe, Franklin Roosevelt’s Foreign Policy and the Welles’ Mission (London: Pal- grave, 2007). The ofﬁcial history of PWP is: Harley Notter, Post-War Foreign Policy Preparation, 1939–1945 (Washington, DC: US Depart- ment of State, 1949). 9. Hugh R. Wilson, ‘Memorandum on World Order’, 22 January 1940, Berle Papers, Box 54, Roosevelt Library. 10. Priscilla Roberts (ed.), Lord Lothian and Anglo-American Relations, 1900–1940 (Dordrecht: Republic of Letters, 2010). 11. Henry Stimson, entry of 8 May 1940, Diary,Reel6,and26November 1942, Reel 8, Library of Congress. 114 A. J. WILLIAMS

12. Andrew J. Williams ‘Leo Pasvolsky and an Open World Economy’; and Ashworth, ‘Progressivism Triumphant? …’, in Navari and Cochran (eds.), Progressivism at Bay, Chapters 4 and 5. 13. Navari and Cochran (eds.), Progressivism at Bay,p.3. 14. Godfrey Hodson, Woodrow Wilson’s Right Hand: The Life of Colonel Edward M. House (New Haven, NJ: Yale University Press, 2008). 15. John G. Ruggie, ‘International Regimes, Transactions, and Change: Embedded Liberalism in the Postwar Economic Order’, International Organization, Vol. 36, No. 2, Spring 1982, pp. 379–415. 16. Lionel Robbins, Economic Planning and International Order (London: Macmillan, 1937). For more on the concept of planning, see Williams, Failed Imagination, pp. 124–126; and Williams, France, Britain and the United States, pp. 122–126. 17. F. W. Hirst, The Political Economy of War (London: J. M. Dent, 1915), ‘On war debts’, pp. 161–174, and ‘Indemnities’, pp. 112–113. 18. A. C. Pigou, The Transition from War to Peace (Oxford: Oxford Uni- versity Press, 1943); Anthony Eden, Mansion House speech of 29 May 1941; League of Nations ‘Draft Report on Social and Economic Recon- struction in the Post-War Settlement’, n.d., 1941; Noel-Baker Papers, NBKR 4/229. 19. Philip Nord, France’s New Deal: From the Thirties to the Postwar Era (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2010), pp. 27–28, and Chapter 1, passim. 20. The best account of the split in the Labour Party is in: David Mar- quand, Ramsay Macdonald: A Biography (London: Jonathan Cape, 1977); Robert Skidelsky, Oswald Mosley (London: Macmillan, 1980); Henri de Man, Au delà du nationalisme; Vers un gouvernement mondial (Geneva: Editions du Cheval Ailé, 1946). De Man had been accused by some of being a collaborator though he was expelled from teaching jobs in Frankfurt (1933) and Brussels (1942) by the Nazi authorities and ended up hiding in the Savoie mountains to escape being put on a hostage list, the equivalent of a death sentence, p. 12. 21. Nord, France’s New Deal, pp. 26–29. 22. Marcel Déat, ‘Préface’ to Le Plan Français: Doctrine et Plan d’Action (Paris: Fasquelle, 1935), pp. 10–15. On Laroque, see Nord, France’s New Deal, p. 30. 23. Philippe Burrin, La Dérive fasciste Doriot, Déat, Bergery (1933–1945) (Paris: Seuil, 1986). Déat narrowly escaped a Resistance ﬁring squad for being a Vichy collaborator by hiding in Italy until his death in 1955. 24. Meeting of National Economic and Social Planning Association (NESPA) in Washington, 5 December 1939, Berle Papers, Box 65. The PEP’s papers can be found in the British Library of Political and Economic Science in London. 3 THE ‘ANGLO-SAXON’ NEW WORLD ORDER … 115

25. On NESPA, see Charlie Witham, Post-War Business Planners in the United States, 1939–1948 (London: Bloomsbury, 2016); and Howard Segal, Technological Utopianism in American Culture (Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press, 2005). 26. Ruggie, International Regimes, Transactions and Change, op.cit. 27. Alain Laurent, Le libéralisme Américain: Histoire d’un détournement (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 2006), esp. Chapter 4; Etienne Mantoux, The Carthaginian Peace, or The Economic Consequences of Mr. Keynes (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1946); and Walter Lippmann, The Good Society (Boston: Little Brown, 1937). 28. Friedrich Hayek, The Road to Serfdom (London: Routledge, 2001, ﬁrst published 1944); on Hayek as a ‘libertarian’, see Eamonn Butler, Friedrich Hayek: The Ideas and Inﬂuence of the Libertarian Economist (London: Harriman House, 2012), ‘Introduction’; New Republic,1Jan- uary 1945, review of Road to Serfdom. 29. Barbara Ward, ‘The Limits of Economic Planning’, Foreign Affairs,Jan- uary 1949, pp. 245–262. 30. A good introduction is: Benn Steil, The Battle of Bretton Woods: John Maynard Keynes, Harry Dexter White, and the Making of a New World Order (Princeton: Council on Foreign Relations/Princeton University Press, 2013). 31. De Man, Au dela du nationalisme,op.cit. 32. Avenol to Blum, 2 December 1945, Blum Papers, 4 BL 1, AN, Paris. 33. Georges Ayache, Le retour du Général de Gaulle (Paris: Perrin, 2015), p. 67. 34. Mollet Papers, ‘SFIO: Congrès Nationale, Paris, 29 August–1 September 1946’, AGM10, OURS, Paris. 35. Elizabeth Borgwardt, A New Deal for the World: America’s Vision for Human Rights (Cambridge, MA: Belknap Harvard, 2005). 36. Piers Ludlow, ‘The Emergence of a Commercial Heavy-Weight: The Kennedy Round Negotiations and the European Community of the 1960s’, Diplomacy and Statecraft, Vol. 18, 2007, pp. 351–368. 37. Borgwardt, A New Deal for the World, pp. 3–5. See also Mark Bradley, The World Reimagined: Americans and Human Rights in the Twentieth Century (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2016). 38. Roberto Belloni, ‘The Trouble with Humanitarianism’, Review of Inter- national Studies, Vol. 33, 2007, pp. 451–474. Belloni points out that the dilemmas attached to the term have been even more acute following the end of the Cold War. 39. Andrew J. Williams, Liberalism and War: The Victors and the Vanquished (London: Routledge, 2006). 40. [Free French] ‘Commission pour l’étude des problèmes d’après guerre’ meetings of 6 March and 24 April 1942, AN, ‘France Libre’, F1A3734. 116 A. J. WILLIAMS

41. William Beveridge, Report on Social Insurance and Allied Services, November 1942; Full Employment in a Free Society, November 1944; collectively The Price of Peace (London: Pilot Press, 1945). For the section in the volume on the economic causes of war, see pp. 30–34. 42. Michel and Mirkine-Guetzévitch (eds.), Les idées politiques de la Résis- tance. The File ‘Projets pour après la Libération’ can be found in AN, F1A3734. This was also published in abbreviated form as a ‘compte ren- du’ by Lucien Febvre in Annales, Vol. 9, No. 3, 1954, pp. 413–416. 43. The Minutes (1941–1945) of the London International Assembly can be found in the Library of the London School of Economics, under LNU65-8. 44. ‘Commission pour l’étude des problèmes d’après guerre’ meetings of 10 February and 5 March 1942; ‘L’Institut de la Conjoncture’, 64 page report, 15 March 1943, AN, ‘France Libre’, F1A3734. 45. L. Jacquemin, ‘Commission pour l’étude des problèmes d’après guerre’, 10 September 1942, AN, ‘France Libre’, F1A3734. 46. See, for example, Daily Herald, 7 October 1941, and Daily Mirror,30 October 1941; Revue bi-mensuelle des questions d’après guerre, Bulletins of 1 and 15 November 1941, ‘Commission pour l’étude des problèmes d’après guerre’, AN, ‘France Libre’, F1A3734. 47. Raymond Haas-Picard (London) to ‘Villiers’ (Daniel Mayer) (Algiers) 3 December 1943 and end (n.d.) January 1944, AGM1, Mollet Papers, OURS. 48. Patricia Clavin, ‘Reparations in the Long Run’, Diplomacy and Statecraft, Vol. 16, 2005, pp. 515–530, here p. 517. She quotes a State Department Memorandum, ‘British Thought on Reparations and Economic Security’, September 1943, NARA RG 59.3.8 and the State Department’s ‘Inter- divisional Committee on Reparation, Restitution and Property Rights’, established 29 December 1943, n.d. for this report. 49. Mantoux, The Carthaginian Peace,op.cit. 50. See, for example, Groupe Jean Jaurès discussions of 21 June 1943 and 13 May 1944, Fonds Louis Lévy, OURS, 95 ARO 3. 51. Henry Morgenthau, ‘Suggested Post-Surrender Plan for Germany’, Box 31, Folder Germany: Jan.–Sept. 1944 (i297). Roosevelt Library. 52. Georges Boris, ‘Politique Américaine-les données fondamentales du problème’, July 1942, ‘Commission pour l’étude des problèmes d’après guerre’, AN, ‘France Libre’, F1A3734. 53. Boris, ‘Politique Américaine-les données fondamentales du problème’, doc. cit. supra. 54. Alexis Léger to Katherine Biddle, 13 September 1945, St. John Perse (Léger) Letters (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1979), pp. 401–402. See also Katherine Biddle, Saint-John Perse intime - 1940– 1970 (Paris: Gallimard, 2011). 3 THE ‘ANGLO-SAXON’ NEW WORLD ORDER … 117

55. Raymond Aron, Préface to Antoine de St-Exupéry, Ecrits de guerre, 1939–1944 (Paris: Gallimard Folio, 1994), p. 13. 56. Nord, France’s New Deal, esp. pp. 189–213. As but one example of their collective dominance, only one President of the Fifth Republic, Nicolas Sarkozy, did not attend one or both of these institutions. Seven Prime Ministers have attended ENA, and a majority of Cabinet Ministers. 57. He subsequently served as a much more powerful elected Président de la République from 8 January 1959 to 28 April 1969 under the Fifth Republic. 58. For the founding of the United Nations, see Stephen Schlesinger, Act of Creation: The Founding of the United Nations (Boulder, CO: West- view, 2004); Townsend Hoopes and Douglas Brinkley, FDR and the Creation of the U.N. (New Haven, NJ: Yale University Press, 2000). For the speciﬁcally French contribution to this, see Andrew J. Williams, ‘France and the Origins of the United Nations, 1944–1945: op. cit. 59. ‘L’Europe et les Trois Grands, 1941–1945: Aux origines de la ten- sion actuelle’, n.d. or author (probably late 1945), ‘Questions Générales de Politique Mondiale, 1945–1949’: MAE, Affaires politiques: Interna- tionale, Série Y, 1944–1949, 76 CT com/2. 60. ‘Note’ quoting the US press, April 1943 and [Didier?] Gros to de Gaulle, ‘Note sur les travaux américains de préparation de la paix’, 14 May 1943; De Gaulle Papers, AN, Paris, AG/3 (1)/ 256: Dossier 1a, April 1943. 61. Avenol to Blum, 2 December 1945, Blum Papers, 4 BL 1, AN, Paris. 62. For a study of French colonial thinking in 1914–1918, see Christopher Andrew and Anya Kanya-Forster, France Overseas: The Great War and the Climax of French Imperial Expansion (London: Thames and Hudson, 1981). 63. ACPWFP Subcommittee on international organizations, ﬁrst meeting 17 April 1942 (P-IO-1); ‘Preliminary Memoranda on International Organi- zation’, 31 July 1942 (Second Meeting, P-IO-2); Smuts Memorandum, 20 August 1942 (P-IO-4) Welles Papers, Box 189, Roosevelt Library. For more on this see Williams, Failed Imagination, pp. 195–197. 64. Berle to Roosevelt, 12 January 1942, Secretary’s Files, 4725, Box 1, Roosevelt Library. 65. Stimson Diary entries for 11, 24 May and 17 June 1943, Stimson Diary, Reel 8, Library of Congress. 66. Pasvolsky, ‘International Economic Collaboration’, 20 March 1944, Pasvolsky Papers, Box 7, Library of Congress. 67. Some of this section is drawn from: Williams, ‘Leo Pasvolsky and an Open World Economy’; Pasvolsky, ‘Memorandum for the President’, 11 August 1943, Pasvolsky Papers, Box 3, Library of Congress. 118 A. J. WILLIAMS

68. Leo Pasvolsky, Memorandum for the Secretary: ‘Progress of Conversa- tions at Dumbarton Oaks’, 28 August 1944, Meeting No. 6; ‘Summary of Ofﬁcial Statements and Views Pertaining to Permanent International Organization’, Pasvolsky Papers, Box 3, Library of Congress. 69. Winant [London] to Camille [Paris], 25 July 1944, Massigli note about Sumner Welles’ The Time for Decision, August 1944, Massigli [Paris] note to De Gaulle [Algiers], 27 August 1944, PAAP 217, Vol. 42. 70. Henri Boulay to Blum, 27 May 1945, ‘Correspondence, mai 45–46’, Blum Papers, 4 BL 1, AN, Paris. 71. Anatole de Monzie, La saison des juges (Paris: Flammarion, 1943). 72. On Darquier, see Carmen Callil, Bad Faith: A Story of Family and Fatherland (London: Vintage, 2007). 73. Pertinax, Les Fossoyeurs op.cit;LéonBlum,L’histoire jugera (Mon- treal: Editions de l’arbre, 1945), and subsequently in Paris by Editions Diderot, 1945. 74. Blum in Le Populaire (London), 19 August 1945, Blum Papers 4 BL 1, AN, Paris. 75. Groupe Jean Jaurès discussions of 17 June 1944, Fonds Louis Lévy, OURS, 95 ARO 3. 76. Mayers, America and the Postwar World,p.4. 77. Opening remarks for the United States by Robert H. Jackson, cited in: Michael R. Marrus, The Nuremberg War Crimes Trial, 1945–46 (Boston, MA: Bedford, 1997), p. 85. Cited by Linda S. Bishai, ‘Leaving Nurem- berg: America’s Love/Hate Relationship with International Law’, Review of International Studies, Vol. 34, 2008, pp. 425–443, here p. 425. 78. On war crimes in general, see Gary Jonathan Bass, Stay the Hand of Vengeance: The Politics of War Crimes Tribunals (Princeton, NJ: Prince- ton University Press, 2000); Howard Ball, Prosecuting War Crimes and Genocide: The Twentieth Century Experience (Kansas, MO: University Press of Kansas, 1999); and Philippe Sands (ed.), From Nuremberg to the Hague (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003). 79. Bishai, ‘Leaving Nuremberg’, p. 431. 80. Arieh J. Kochavi, ‘Discord Within the Roosevelt Administration over a Policy Toward War Criminals’, Diplomatic History,Vol.19,No.4,Fall 1995, p. 617. 81. Morgenthau papers, Box 31, ‘Germany, January–September 1944’, Roo- sevelt Library; Michael R. Beschloss, The Conquerors: Roosevelt, Truman and the Destruction of Hitler’s Germany, 1941–1945 (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2003). 82. Kochavi, ‘Discord Within the Roosevelt Administration…’, p. 632. 83. These were what we now refer to as the ‘concentration camps’. Stimson Diary, entries for 23 and 27 October 1944, Stimson Papers, Reel 9, Library of Congress. McCloy was to be named the High Commissioner 3 THE ‘ANGLO-SAXON’ NEW WORLD ORDER … 119

for Germany in 1949–1952 where he played a big role in changing its political and economic fortunes. 84. Philippe Sands, East West Street: On the Origins of Genocide and Crimes Against Humanity (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2016), p. xxii. 85. Stimson Diary, entry for 23 October 1939, Reel 9, Library of Congress: so exactly ﬁve years to the day from his decision on what became war crimes tribunals. 86. Mark Mazower, No Enchanted Palace: The End of Empire and the Ideological Origins of the United Nations (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2009), p. 143, quoted by Jan Klabbers, European Journal of International Law, Review of Mazower, No Enchanted Palace, Vol. 21, No. 3, August 2010, https://academic.oup.com/ejil/ article/21/3/789/508663/Mark-Mazower-No-Enchanted-Palace-The- End-of-Empire (accessed 24 May 2017). 87. British Jewish citizens were deported to death camps from the Channel Islands. 88. Sibylle Scheipers, Unlawful Combatants: A Genealogy of the Irregular Fighter (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015), p. 134. 89. M. R. D. Foot, SOE in France (London: Frank Cass, 2006), p. 385, quoted in Scheipers, Unlawful Combatants, p. 142. 90. Jan T. Gross, ‘Themes for a Social History of War Experience and Col- laboration’, in István Deák, Jan T. Gross, and Tony Judt (eds.), The Poli- tics of Retribution in Europe: World War II and Its Aftermath (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2000). For different modes of repression, see Juliette Pattinson and Ben Shepherd (eds.), War in a Twilight World: Partisan and Anti-partisan Warfare in Eastern Europe, 1939–45 (Lon- don: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010). 91. For a cinematographic explanation of why the Milice was so hated, but also so complicated as a social phenomenom, see the ﬁlm: Lacomb, Lucien, directed by Louis Malle, 1974. 92. Patrick Marnham, The Death of Jean Moulin: Biography of a Ghost (Lon- don: Pimlico, 2001). On Bloch, the best account is by Carole Fink, Marc Bloch: A Life in History (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991). See also, in Chapter 1 of her book, a discussion of Marc Bloch’s Strange Defeat: A Statement of Evidence Written in 1940 (New York: Norton, 1999). 93. Peter Novick, The Resistance Versus Vichy: The Purge of Collaborators in Liberated France (London: Chatto & Windus, 1968); Andrew Shennan, Rethinking France: Plans for Renewal, 1940–1946 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989). 94. Lawrence Collier (Oslo) to London, 13 November 1945, with annexed detailed account of the trial by James C. Wardrop of 7 November 1945, Rowland Kenney Papers, Churchill College Cambridge. 120 A. J. WILLIAMS

95. Novick, Resistance Versus Vichy, p. 187. His main source was: André Boissarie, La Répression (Paris: la Nef, 1949). Novick does not seem to have noted women prisoners. 96. [Vichy] Cabinet du Ministre (Affaires Etrangères), [Mainly visa applica- tions], June 1940–13 November 1941, 5qo/1. 97. Robert Paxton and Michael R. Marrus, VichyFranceandtheJews(Stan- ford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1995); Philippe Burrin, Hitler et les Juifs: Genèse d’un genocide (Paris: Points, 2016); Saul Friedlander, The Years of Extermination: Nazi Germany and the Jews, 1939–1945 (New York, NY: Harper Perennial, 2008); and Callil, Bad Faith,op.cit. 98. The file of letters to Blum are in his ‘Correspondance, mai 45–46’ in the Archives Nationales in Paris, Blum Papers, 4BL1 (n.b. numerotation is that of the papers before their deposit in the AN). 99. Valière to Blum, 25 May 1945; Blum to de Gaulle, 14 October 1945 ‘Correspondance, mai 45–46’, Blum Papers, 4BL1. 100. Marie-Bénédicte Vincent, ‘Punir et rééduquer: le processus de dénazifi- cation (1945–1949), in Marie-Bénédicte Vincent (ed.), La dénazification (Paris: Perrin, 2008), p. 11. 101. Rainer Hudemann, ‘L’occupation française après 1945 et les relations franco-allemandes’, in Vincent (ed.), La dénazification, p. 195. 102. Mark Mazower, No Enchanted Palace: The End of Empire and the Ideo- logical Origins of the United Nations,op.cit. 103. For a critical example of the ‘failure’ thesis, see, for example, Patricia Clavin, Securing the World Economy: The Reinvention of the League of Nations, 1920–1946 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013). 104. Quoted by Borgwardt, A New Deal for the World, p. 20. 105. George Woodbridge, UNRRA: The History of the United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Administration (New York: Columbia University Press, 1950); David Mayers, ‘Destruction Repaired and Destruction Anticipated: United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Administration (UNRRA), the Atomic Bomb, and US Policy 1944–6’, International History Review, Vol. 38, No. 5, 2016, pp. 961–983; and Jessica Reinisch, ‘Internationalism in Relief: The Birth (and Death) of UNRRA’, in Mark Mazower et al. (eds.), Post-War Reconstruction in Europe: Inter- national Perspectives, 1945–1949 (Oxford: Oxford University Press/Past and Present, 2011), pp. 258–289. 106. Andrew J. Williams, ‘Reconstruction Before the Marshall Plan’, Review of International Studies, Vol. 31, No. 3, July 2005, pp. 541–558. 107. ‘Personal Correspondence and General Files: Administration and Bud- get’, Lehman Papers, Columbia University Library, C46-2, pp. 105–109. 108. Philips to Lehman, 20 September 1943: Special Files, Personal and Gen- eral, Lehman Papers, C46-48. 3 THE ‘ANGLO-SAXON’ NEW WORLD ORDER … 121

109. Marcus to Lehman, 10 April 1946; Leavitt to Lehman, 14 September 1945; Special Files, Personal and General, Lehman Papers, C46-48. 110. ‘Personal Correspondence and General Files: Administration and Bud- get’, Lehman Papers 46-2; Bevin–Lehman, 24 December 1947, Lehman Papers, C46-420d. 111. On Massigli, see Rogelia Pastor-Castro, ‘René Massigli’s Mission to Lon- don, 1944–1954’, Diplomacy and Statecraft, Vol. 24, No. 4, 2013, pp. 539–558. 112. Williams, Liberalism and War, p. 118. Massigli’s comments can be found in: Lehman, ‘Diary of Visits to London and Paris’, October–November 1944, Lehman Papers C47/65, pp. 12–13. 113. Robert H. Jackson to Lehman, 22 January 1948, Lehman Papers, C46- 420d. 114. Will Clayton, quoted by David Mayers, ‘Destruction Repaired and Destruction Anticipated…’, p. 971: Speech to UNRRA Council Meet- ing, 6 August 1946 and The European Crisis, 31 May 1947, Box 60, William Clayton papers, Truman Library. 115. John D. Mcloy (Assistant Secretary of War) to Mr. Connolly (White House Staff), ‘Memorandum for the President’, 26 April 1945, PCF, Box 155, Roosevelt Library. 116. David Woolner, The Last 100 Days: FDR at War and at Peace (New York: Basic Books, 2017), Chapter 6. 117. Williams, ‘France and the Origins of the United Nations’; and Fraser Harbutt, Yalta 1945: Europe and America at the Crossroads (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), p. 6. 118. Woolner, The Last 100 Days, pp. 100–112. 119. Philips O’Brien, The Second Most Powerful Man in the World, Fleet Admi- ral William D. Leahy, Chief of Staff, op. cit., Chapter 23. 120. Editorials of 1, 8 and 29 January 1945, ‘The World After the War’ New Republic, especially the last one ‘What do we want in Europe?’ 121. Quoted by Jean Lacouture, De Gaulle: The Ruler, 1945–1970 (London: Harvill, 1991), pp. 8–9. 122. ‘Memorandum of Conversations at the White House on 22 August 1945 between the President and General de Gaulle’, President’s Secretary’s Files (PCF), Box 155, Truman Library. 123. ‘Voyage du Général de Gaulle aux Etats-Unis’, ﬁle on ‘La Question de l”Autriche et le Problème du Trieste’, 13 June 1945, and ‘Note pour l’Administration Française en Autriche’, 8 August 1945: Série Y Interna- tionale, 1944–1949, May–December 1945, 76CPCOM/19, MAE, Paris. 124. ‘Voyage du Général de Gaulle aux Etats-Unis’, 13 August 1945, 76CPCOM. 125. Clavin, ‘Reparations in the Long Run’, p. 516. 122 A. J. WILLIAMS

126. ‘Memorandum of Conversations at the White House on August 22, 1945’, op. cit. 127. John D. Hill, ‘Germany, the United States and De Gaulle’s Strategy for Economic Reconstruction, 1944–1946’, in Robert W. Paxton and Nicholas Wahl (eds.), De Gaulle and the United States: A Centennial Reappraisal (Oxford: Berg, 1994), pp. 103–104. CHAPTER 4

Europe: Reconstruction and Integration, 1945–1952

Introduction

As with each of the two themed chapters, this one on Europe and Chapter 5 on Empire, the analysis will be conducted by both date and topic. This requires a consideration of what might be called the institutionalisation of Europe after 1945 in tandem with might be called a conceptualisation or even a theorisation. The dates covered by this chapter cleave to the Truman presidencies and the European institutional successes that entailed, especially that of the Marshall Plan (European Recov- ery Program, ERP, 1948–1952) with some reference to the setting up of the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO). There is some mention of the British position on Europe throughout the late 1940s, but the main focus is on French thinking and the way it on occasion collided with American ambitions for the Continent. The chapter also examines Euro- pean initiatives, and especially those that were to lead eventually to the Treaty of Rome in 1957 that set up the European Economic Community (EEC). The most important of these were the 1950 Schuman Plan that led to the European Coal and Steel Community (ECSC), also in 1950. It ends with the collapse of one of the most important European initiatives, the European Defense Community (EDC), though this collapsed during the Eisenhower Administration (1952–1958) in 1954 when the French Assemblée ﬁnally rejected membership.1

© The Author(s) 2020 123 A. J. Williams, France, Britain and the United States in the Twentieth Century: Volume 2, 1940–1961, Studies in Diplomacy and International Relations, https://doi.org/10.1057/978-1-137-41444-1_4 124 A. J. WILLIAMS

If there is a conceptual or theoretical aim of this chapter it is to ask which history we need to privilege in order to make sense of the many counter—currents that make up this turbulent era. It is tempting to say that France in particular, but Britain and the United States as well, were societies groping in the dark for an understanding of what had so recently happened to them and what good (or bad) might come out of it. The much-quoted Michel Foucault constitutes one important contemporary part of this reflection within France. The object of his life’s work was ‘to create a history of the different modes by which, in our culture, human beings are made subjects’. This ‘creation of a history’ aimed at nothing less than ‘to arrive at an analysis which can account for the constitution of the subject within a historical framework’.2 Such gnomic utterances only make sense if we see France, indeed Europe more broadly, as dealing with its appalling recent past of humiliation, defeat and collaboration with Nazi ideology. Many Germans, even conservative ones, felt the same. The celebrated German writer Ernst Jünger, who spent much of the war as an officer in the German High Command in Paris, had a very developed sense of the philosophy of history, derived from Nietzsche, Spengler and Vico as well as from his friendship with Carl Schmitt and Martin Heidegger. He describes in his War Journals how he was forced to listen in December 1941 to a committed French fascist ‘Merline’ (in fact Louis-Ferdinand Céline, author of Voyage au bout de la nuit),3 urging German troops to ‘exterminate […] the Jews’ and ‘expressing astonishment that anyone who had a bayonet was not making unrestrained use of it.’ The only sense Jünger could make of this was that this was that it was ‘…nihilism. People like this hear only a single melody’. It was a throw back to when ‘faith could still be tested. Nowadays they hide under the cloak of ideas, [subsequently] discarded like rags’.4 For him Europe was the centre of these ideas, but also the problem, for ‘Europe resembles a beautiful woman with too many suitors. She is holding out for the right one’.5 We have to ask what ideas could replace the fascism of Céline and the other Vichy collabos? How could Foucault’s ‘history’ be created? The answers are complex and contradictory, but they can be summed up as a turn to ‘globalism’.6 Replacing the old world required replacing empires as much as nationalisms. Europe was one such potential construct. A West dominated by the liberal Anglo-Saxon states was another. The years after 1945 were marked by the discussion about how these could both be accommodated. Hence the institutionalisation of the ERP after 1948, 4 EUROPE: RECONSTRUCTION AND INTEGRATION, 1945–1952 125 ostensibly an economic project that was pan-European as well as global, was seen as a powerful tool for the prevention of war, as was its security counterpart NATO after 1949. The idea of European economic and political integration came to be the overarching expression of these disparate hopes. Taming German militarism was a crucial aim of these initiatives. In the words of the Truman Administration’s ‘Informal Policy Committee on Germany’ in May 1945, ‘[t]he principal Allied objective is to prevent Germany from ever again being a threat to the peace of the world’. A revision of the state of Europe was identified very early after the war as the key to how this might happen. In June 1945 Bernard Baruch, later Truman’s atomic energy advisor, told the Senate that: ‘[t]he new equilibrium of industrial strength in Europe might take the form of a United States of Europe—a United States of Europe in which Germany would be one of several peaceful equals, not the dominating war organizer’.7 The key would be a combination of economic and security measures, necessary to reassure the British and the Soviet Union that they would never be threatened again. That noble ideal was of course transformed with the onset of the Cold War. The key aim from 1947 on was to reassure the French that the Germans could be trusted enough to enable them to create a new state (West Germany was officially created in 1955), and rearm (achieved with the ‘Pleven Plan’ of 1950, named after Fourth Republic Prime Minister René Pleven, when he accepted the principle of a Euro- pean army with German participation) (see below, pp. 131–132). All of this was achieved by diplomacy and economic sweeteners, of which the ERP was the keystone. The American aim of establishing trust between France and Germany after three major conflicts, two of them global, can be seen as one the greatest feats of American power projection in the history of the Republic.

Europe: Security and Reconstruction

Many of the issues that arose under the two broad rubrics of ‘Europe’ and ‘Empire’ in the late 1940s and 1950s were often intimately linked. It is notable that whenever a British or French delegation met with representatives of the United States in the period 1945–1958 how the discussion moved seamlessly between the two major rubrics. The discussions about Germany often came after a difﬁcult conversation about imperial issues. 126 A. J. WILLIAMS

The linkage made these discussions difficult, especially for the French governments, who found themselves asking for military aid, in Indochina for example, and first being forced to practically beg for help, followed by an American deployment of its latest ideas on Europe. Pleven’s visit to Wash- ington in January 1951 was one such occasion, remembered by historians of the European Union as a major triumph for European integration, but experienced by the French delegation largely as a fairly lengthy and humiliating lesson in the new balance of power.8 Some scholars have even suggested that the ‘reconstruction’ of Europe was often explicitly linked with the ‘rejuvenation of Empire’.9 What kind of world was wanted to replace the dying fascist autocracies and the threatened British and French empires? How could the babies of democracy and legitimacy not be thrown out with the bathwater of the extreme nationalist or imperial constructs which had hitherto dominated the globe? The debates that encompassed this vast reflection were under way before 1939—the war gave them an added impetus in a second ‘never again’ moment. Before 1939 the predominant feeling was, in de Gaulle’s words of 23 June 1908, one of ‘the malaise that precedes great wars.’10 After the sketching out of the future in the Atlantic Charter in August 1941 it was how to transform this malaise into action. With the war ended but by no means over it was incumbent on European and other policy makers, politicians and intellectuals to rethink what Europe now meant. This was particularly important in France where defeat and humiliation meant having to largely react to ideas and actions that were beyond their power to influence.

French Weakness, 1945--1958: Structural or Political?

The onset of the Cold War naturally changed the equation of power in Europe, and not entirely to the French disadvantage, but still left Britain and, far more, the United States dictating events as best they could. France’s economic clout at the end of the war was weak in the extreme. This was not helped by the state of French politics under the Fourth Republic. Maybe France’s strongest suit lay with its excellent diplomatic team in Washington and New York. Henri Bonnet was the longest serving Ambassador of France in Washington (1944–1954), succeeded by Mau- rice Couve de Murville (1955–1956), later de Gaulle’s Foreign Minis- ter under the Fifth Republic (1958–1968). Previous to his Washington 4 EUROPE: RECONSTRUCTION AND INTEGRATION, 1945–1952 127 posting Couve de Murville was Directeur Politique of the Quai d’Orsay (1948–1954). This continuity both ensured that French communication with the United States was possible and helped the Americans make sense of what they saw as the chaos in Paris. Another French diplomat, Jean de Lagarde, the French Consul Gen- eral in New York wrote to Bonnet in Washington at the beginning of 1954 to reflect a widespread American feeling about France throughout the Fourth Republic, ‘une impatience grandissante … qui irait jusqu’a l’exasperation… What’s wrong with France [sic] …. [e]st sur toutes les bouches américaines’. Lagarde identified the problem for the Americans of being ‘our extreme individualism that is reflected in our governmental instability’. In a further flight of analysis he mused that ‘[our propensity for] dialectic, as admirable as it can be … engenders immobilism at the very moment when we should be making decisions’. We have, he thought, ‘un excès d’intellectualisme’. Bonnet sent the report on to the Quai d’Or- say with the comment that he had heard other ‘similar critiques…’ but thought this one was particularly well aimed.11 When Bonnet left his post at the end of 1954 he was less disillusioned than he had been earlier in his posting but still seeing, in de Lagarde’s interpretation, ‘a deeply divided world and faced with the last chance of a franco-german rapprochement [un monde profondément divisé et également la dernière chance d’un rapprochement franco-allemand]’.12 This depressed account was both typical and misleading. Both insiders and outsiders had very modest assessments of the Fourth Republic’s ability to achieve anything of lasting merit in Europe or beyond. And yet by 1958, the European project was well on track and the worst shocks in the French Empire (bar the Algerian debacle) were behind them. It is necessary for us to ask why the negative view has been so dominant ever since. It became a mainstay, along with the myth of de Gaulle’s total dominance of the Resistance, for the wider mythology of the Fifth Republic and particularly that of General de Gaulle. The structure of the Fourth Republic is the first aspect, and is due to its parliamentary nature. Although Presidents of the Republic were few— Vincent Auriol from January 1946 to January 1954, then Réné Coty from January 1954 till January 1959 after the Fifth Republic was inaugurated (in October 1958), this was a mainly symbolic post. But such Presidents could have an impact—Auriol was not a great supporter of a too rapid rapprochement with Germany. He was also seen in public far more than his fleeting Heads of Government Président du Conseil (Prime Minister). 128 A. J. WILLIAMS

The Chicago Sun Tribune followed his career even after he had left office, and became President of the World Veterans Association, for which he had been nominated by the German chapter, which was quite an accolade. The newspaper described him as having ‘a typical French independence of spirit, sometimes seeming to verge on sheer stubbornness, that has made France at once the despair and envy of her allies.’13 Actual governments led by a Prime Minister rarely lasted more than a few months, or even weeks, the record being held by Socialist Guy Mollet, who was to try and manage the Suez Crisis, from 2 February 1956–21 May 1957, disastrously as it turned out (see Chapter 5, pp. 211–216). The reasons for such brevity of power are partly inherent in the system of French politics since 1789. Michel Winock reminds us that there have been ten Constitutions since 1792, although merely four since 1870. As he also reminds us, ‘le consensus [sic] n’est pas un mot français’.14 But this was seen as less than impressive in Washington, where France needed aid for its growing war in Algeria, having been viewed as less than effective in Indochina. By 1958 the French state had veered back to its default position of a ‘strong’ leader, Charles de Gaulle, but even that was not seen as a solution by a significant portion of the population. The polarising antipathy and adulation for de Gaulle, the man and the heritage, could be said to derive from the split in French politics as a result of the unfinished business of 1789.15 There is ample evidence that both Truman and Eisenhower received regular and alarming news about French politics from American intelligence services, notably the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA, founded on 6 July 1947, with the signature of the National Security Act) and, under Truman the ‘Office of Reports and Estimates’ (ORE), which was abolished in 1950. The CIA and ORE helped provide data and opinion for furthering the President’s aims in Europe, and notably Franco-German rapprochement, in a process that can mainly be described as benevo- lent intervention. The ORE also provided Truman’s Administration with lengthy and well-informed opinion on both French and (West) German political developments, helping identify the key players in what eventually became the process of European integration , as they were also to do for analysis of the French imperial situation.16 France did very well economically during the thirty years after 1945— les trente glorieuses as they are widely known. Jean Monnet’s planning (see previous chapters, and below pp. 158–159) was given a certain amount of credit for that by the United States, although his role was always dwarfed 4 EUROPE: RECONSTRUCTION AND INTEGRATION, 1945–1952 129 by the impact of the ERP. Lagarde’s above-mentioned dispatch of early 1954 also confirmed that American opinion recognised that France was not a total disaster economically. On occasion ‘the new prosperity of West- ern Europe’ was even celebrated, as in the New York Journal of Commerce in January 1955.17 But this was an unusual departure from one of con- descension, mirrored by American attitudes towards Britain, hampered in American eyes by the ‘socialists’ of the Labour Party. This feeling of being condescended to was in part fostered by the many despatches from French diplomats in the United States (and especially from Bon- net). These often underlined the modesty of French achievements compared with the enormous leaps being made by the Americans in terms of modernity, including model shopping precincts, skyscraper buildings and other infrastructure. It is worth remembering that Eisenhower’s Adminis- tration rebuilt the entire American highway system with the ‘Interstates’. However this attitude tended to overlook the repairs necessary after the devastation wreaked upon Europe, where a similar series of wonders were evident for all to see. French diplomats also noted at length the incredible strides being made in American arms development and production, especially in the US Air Force, with bases and new factories springing up everywhere, as well as new models of aircraft. A report by Bonnet to then Foreign Minister Bidault on the US Navy is emblematic of this. The Navy was the biggest in the world, but such was American wealth that it was considered ‘every day to be more and more out of date [chaque jour plus démodée]’. The Americans were already talking about a ‘New Navy’ or even a ‘Push- Button Navy [sic]’. It was intended to ‘ensure that peace reigned in the world and to defend small states against all aggression’, it was to be everywhere against anything said Bonnet, and would soon include submarines that ‘never needed to surface, and even to include an underwater aircraft carrier submarine’. Bonnet followed this up with similarly amazed reports on army and air force re-equipment programmes.18 Meanwhile, many influential American commentators crowed their satisfaction about the decline of the country that had, after all, made their own USA possible. Washington Post correspondent Constantine Brown was unkind enough to show French troops in the field in Indochina with their ‘comic failings [défauts marrants]’. A visit to Hollywood was often arranged for visiting French dignitaries to coincide with visits to see aircraft facilities, as if to underline the comedic elements of the Franco-American relationship.19 How could France get itself taken seriously? A resurgence of European 130 A. J. WILLIAMS power, without a dominant Germany, became more and more imperative. However the shadow of the war and of the Resistance still loomed (and, still looms to this day) heavily over French thinking about Europe. Take, for example, Georges Bidault, whom we have already said was For- eign Minister under de Gaulle in 1944, but also and most importantly Prime Minister (1946 and 1949–1950) and then Foreign Minister (often alternating with Robert Schuman) under the Fourth Republic. Bidault was to play an important part in all aspects of the slow process of France accepting a different kind of Europe, one with a Franco-German relationship at its heart. His legacy is controversial, and partly because his life contradicted in some ways the Gaullist version of the war, but also because he opposed de Gaulle’s actions in Algeria in the late 1950s. This led to his being airbrushed out (sometimes literally as in pictures of him and de Gaulle walking together down the Champs-Elysées in August 1944). As a courageous member of the Resistance and editor of its journal Com- bat, he was elected Head of the Conseil National de la Résistance,after his close friend Jean Moulin’s execution, on 30 August 1943. This gave him a strained relationship with de Gaulle, partly because de Gaulle did not want the CNR to dilute his legitimacy as the key representative of the Resistance. A founder, with Robert Schuman and many other centrist members of the Resistance of the Mouvement Républicain Populaire (MRP), Bidault still believed in the importance of the Assemblée Nationale and clashed with de Gaulle who wanted a more ‘presidential’ Republic, a goal he largely achieved after 1959 with the founding of the Fifth Repub- lic. From the outset de Gaulle therefore felt Bidault was only ambiguously ‘his’ man. But he made Bidault his Minister of Foreign Affairs in the Pro- visional Government of September 1944, recognising that even he could not ignore those who did not entirely fit with de Gaulle’s ‘certaine idée de la France’.20 Schuman was to prove the real mover and shaker in the creation of post-war Europe. Also very influential in the post-war MRP, which he, Pleven and Bidault were able to develop into a successful centrist Christian Democratic party, Schuman had the added advantage of impressing the Americans. His visit to Washington with President Auriol in March 1951 saw him characterised as ‘a saintly character and a mystic, yet one who is well endowed with much common sense’. The word ‘mystic’, when applied to de Gaulle during the war, had been deployed with a definitely negative connotation, whilst with Schuman it meant a moderate, who had 4 EUROPE: RECONSTRUCTION AND INTEGRATION, 1945–1952 131 already by that date sponsored the eponymous ‘Schuman Plan’ and was ‘very cooperative over German rearmament’.21 Schuman also played a key role in negotiating the ‘Pleven Plan’ suggested by Prime Minister Pleven in late 1950, then discussed in January 1951 in Washington, that formally allowed for the rearmament of a new German federal state. This plan had in its essence been secretly agreed by Acheson, Bevin and Schuman in April 1949 in the Washington Agreement that accepted that there would in the future be a German Federal Republic with an Allied High Commis- sioner (that was to be General Lucius Clay) to coordinate future actions by the Allies and ensure that Germany was peaceful. The aim would be to: ‘facilitate the closest integration, on a mutually beneficial basis, of the German people under a democratic federal state within the framework of a European Association’.22 Hence from very early on after the war the United States in effect cor- ralled its Western Allies into a process of German and European integration . The process by which that took place was complex and not without problems of a political nature on both sides of the Atlantic. The Pleven Plan, for example, was meant to lead to a European Defence Community, one that never saw the light of day due to internal French opposition. In his discussions with Truman and Acheson in 1951 Pleven even blurted out (he was noticed to ‘blush heavily’ as he said it) that many Europeans ‘see the Atlantic Pact as an Anglo-Saxon show… a private club we can’t get in’. The French still felt excluded. Acheson replied that ‘they hadn’t the slightest idea of what Mr. Pleven meant’.23 A dialogue of the deaf was inevitable given evident American aims and its sometimes muscular methods. Truman and Eisenhower Administra- tion representatives were not above using what was sometimes construed as badgering behaviour by both the French and the British Governments. In addition to the United States’ stated desire not to encourage French imperialism, they also made it abundantly clear they did not want to encourage French profligacy. This led to some stiffness in discussing budgetary matters, where the dollar was still the main currency that had to finance fiscal deficits in a world, unlike today, where most other countries than the United States could not create liquidity. In Acheson’s disingenuous words, ‘we cannot become directly involved in the local budgetary deficits of other countries’. The American Government had to sound hard on this question with both the British and the French. But by the time of Auriol’s visit in 1951 it was possible for the State Department to praise Pleven and Schuman as saviours of a state and indeed a continent that 132 A. J. WILLIAMS had looked unlikely even a few years before: ‘Today France is a major partner in the effort of the free world to eliminate the danger of Soviet aggression. The French have taken considerable initiative in furthering the development of European and Atlantic institutions, the NATO, the OEEC, the Schuman Plan and the Council of Europe’.24 But the road to this statement had been long and hard.

Leaders and Followers, 1945--1950

As has already been described, the United States had embarked on the greatest project of global political engineering since 1815. The Atlantic Charter of 1941 and the PWP process aimed at no less than a totally changed global order, a hopefully rule-based system that was liberal, anti- militarist and anti-colonial and above all supportive of the United States’ national interest. It wanted to be the leader of willing follower states, but was quite prepared to enforce its vision of the world through the use of economic statecraft, soft power, and hard power when all else failed. Britain and France were to be key allies in this attempt, even though both on occasion failed to follow Washington’s script. If there can be said to be an overarching question that succeeding American administrations felt they needed to ask it was that of John Foster Dulles in June 1948, later Eisenhower’s Secretary of State. His article in Collier’s magazine caught the eye of many in Washington and beyond: ‘Can We Guaran- tee a Free Europe?’ Yes, said Dulles, but only through a security alliance (which became NATO after the signature of the Brussels Treaty in March 1948 and formally inaugurated in 1949) and the Marshall Plan to resuscitate the European economy. But then must come, said Dulles ‘European Union’.25 Both the French and British Governments of 1948 (and after) were unsure that they liked that next step, and in particular the British. Throughout the Truman Administration relations between Britain and the United States could be fraught. This was partly due to the enduring American belief that a socialist Britain under Clement Attlee was pursuing policies that Main Street America found difficult to accept. As Alan Dob- son puts it: ‘[w]hy should America help subsidise welfarism?’ Criticism in Congress of the ‘principle and indispensable ally’ was on occasion quite caustic. In foreign policy Britain had tried to do everything required of it, supporting the United States in Korea for example, but there were key differences over attitudes to the People’s Republic of China where Britain 4 EUROPE: RECONSTRUCTION AND INTEGRATION, 1945–1952 133 recognised the de facto Government on 6 January 1950, the first West- ern European democracy to do so. The United States was also keen that Britain not hang on to its colonies for any longer than needed and not behave like a colonial power more generally. When Churchill returned to Downing Street in October 1951 he decided that the bilateral relationship needed considerable shoring up and visited Truman with Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden in 1952, ‘so that we can work together easily and intimately … as we used to’.26 Europe was another issue itself that added to the tensions between the United States and Britain as we will outline below. France was the only significant European state still left standing after the rout of extreme nationalism in Germany and Italy as well as the inex- orable closing down of the East European intellectual space as Soviet dogma asserted itself. France’s impact was necessarily limited in the 1940s by its need to reconstruct its shattered economy and political system after the war. In many ways the Quai d’Orsay looked across the Atlantic (and the Channel) with the foreboding that the Anglo-Saxon Allies would repeat their retreat of 1919. Every twist and turn of Senate debates were followed as they had been in 1919–1921. But whereas Jules Jusserand, the then French Ambassador to Washington, had been denied any access to President Wilson and given nothing but rebuffs by senators and con- gressmen eager to exploit French military concerns to try and get Paris to reduce its demands on Germany,27 now the mood music was slowly to move to a discussion about how the United States could help with French security against the Soviet Union. That came to be a concern about both internal security (against the French Parti Communiste—PCF) and exter- nally. This gave France a certain strength through weakness. Auriol was the first French President to visit the White House, in 1951, and the discussions were largely a question of how much economic aid the French needed to counter the PCF and persuade the Assemblée to back Ameri- can plans for European integration and German rearmament. The combination of needs was clear and, usually but not always, led to mutual satisfaction. The exceptions are as important as the achievements. 134 A. J. WILLIAMS

What Did the United States Want Europe to Be After 1945?

This has been underlined by historians like Stephen Ambrose who has stated that the one thing that most impressed him about President Dwight Eisenhower was ‘his determination to do all that he could to foster the United States of Europe’. Ambrose saw this as an uplifting agenda, very probably in the light of his (1989) presence in a newly re-united Europe, watching young people mingle peacefully on the beaches of Nor- mandy, with elections under way for the European Parliament and the prospect of the imminent ‘economic union’, with passport-free travel and the possibility of an ‘all-European army’. This had been one of Eisenhow- er’s greatest dreams—‘it all but broke his heart when the French turned it down’ a reference to the demise of the EDC in 1954 (see below, pp. 164– 168). Ambrose thus paints an idealistic picture of a Europe no longer obsessed by nationalist impulses, where young people join to remember their sombre past and plan for a ‘spirited and imaginative’ future free of war.28 Another historian, Geir Lundestad, suggested rather more darkly that the United States under Truman and Eisenhower had been rather trying to create an ‘“Empire” by integration’, for its own ends, and that ‘none were more important than the “double” containment of Germany and the Soviet Union’, especially in the 1950s and 1960s. This was not so much a refusal of nationalism as a containment of it.29 The evidence for the motivations for this American integrative impulse thus often provokes very different causal theories and interpretations. The United States saw the prospect of a united Europe of some kind as a sine qua non of global security both during and after the Second World War. This was nearly always envisaged for reasons of national interest, whether that meant the securing of markets or for security reasons, especially once the Cold War took over from early post-war hopes that relations between the United States and the Soviet Union would be at least cordial after their wartime cooperation. That was not to be, but the Cold War was not the only reason why successive administrations in the United States, and many in Britain as well, wanted a peaceful and integrated Europe. There is no major reason to disagree with John Lam- berton Harper’s view that Roosevelt wanted to ‘take Europe out of the strategic balance.’ Harper shows this view was largely shared by Dean Acheson, Truman’s Secretary of State (1949–1953) after George Mar- shall (1947–1949), and George Kennan, his National Security Advisor. 4 EUROPE: RECONSTRUCTION AND INTEGRATION, 1945–1952 135

They felt they were consciously ‘present at the creation’.30 But was there maybe also a more nakedly ‘imperial’ impulse at work? There were numerous prominent figures in the American attempt to influence France and Europe to accept its vision of the future. The Ambassadors in Paris were obviously key, including Jefferson Caffery (1944–1948). Truman’s second term saw the installation of Ambassador David Bruce (1949–1952). Other Ambassadors such as C. Douglas Dil- lon (1953–1957), better known as Kennedy and Johnson’s Treasury Sec- retary, Amory Houghton (1957–1961) and James Gavin, who served under President Kennedy (1961–1962) have left relatively little trace of their Parisian presence, though Gavin is mostly thought to have been mes- merised by de Gaulle, who took him into his confidence, maybe out of respect for a fellow soldier.31 But it is probably Charles Bohlen who played the longest role in both French political life and as the spokesman for American presidents in the period covered by this book. Bohlen, a key policy figure on Soviet issues for some time already, had come of age in the 1930s and 1940s working with George Kennan. A Minister under Bruce (1949–1951) and a future American Ambassador to Paris (1962–1968), he was key to both Tru- man’s and Eisenhower’s policies to create an anti-Soviet bulwark in West- ern Europe and on how to influence the Soviet Union (where he was to serve as Ambassador, 1953–1957). Bohlen was often described as the key player in the American view of Germany and East–West relations. Bonnet was somewhat wary of Bohlen’s ‘pro-German’ attitudes, due to his family roots, but could already see in late 1948 that this fluent Russian speaker would play a significant role in American foreign policy. The French Intel- ligence services (Service de documentation extérieure de contre-espionnage, SDECE) accorded him a primordial role in Truman’s increasing attempts to make France a pillar of American economic and military ambitions, as well as to use Paris as a centre for Europe-wide opposition to Soviet infiltration, a role he pursued both as Ambassador Bruce’s deputy and in his own right as Ambassador to Moscow and then to Paris. His first appointment to Paris in 1949 was seen as staking out the ‘centre of his influence [rayonnement] over the Continent as a whole’.32 Bohlen was very aware of the fragile state of French politics and made a number of proposals to support democratic French trade unions, a key battleground against the PCF. His protegé, State Department official William Tyler, ‘le diable de M. Bohlen à l’Ambassade [in Paris]’ was key in organising trips to the United States by Pleven (who was Prime Minster and Defence Minister 136 A. J. WILLIAMS in the usual confusing merry-go-round of the Fourth Republic) and by President Auriol to the United States under Truman in 1951.33 He was thus a major mover of initiatives that resulted, as in the 1950 Pleven Plan, with the French authorities slowly but surely accepting the need to reinte- grate Germany into a system of common defence, an initiative also backed by Monnet and presented to the French National Assembly on 31 Octo- ber 1950. This Plan succeeded the moves towards economic integration, such as the Schuman Plan (see below, pp. 160–163) and demonstrates the truth of what French intelligence thought about Bohlen’s central role. He was one of the few that could make sense of the shifting governments and personalities of the Fourth Republic, especially for an often understandably baffled Truman administration. Eric (later Lord) Roll, a celebrated economist, and a key (and at times reluctant) British negotiator in all the major economic agreements that were at the heart of European recovery and integration, was impressed by Bohlen and others with whom he had to deal. He commented that American negotiators always deployed what he called ‘a brilliant combination of political realism and far-sighted idealism’. Roll was in many ways an epitome of the ‘old’ world, born in the Austro-Hungarian Empire (a town called Czernowitz in Austrian Bukowina, now Cernauti in Roma- nia) in 1907, with family in Vienna. But while he had a similar origin to the ‘neoliberal’ economists Friedrich Hayek and Ludwig von Mises (see Chapter 3, pp. 85–86) he was an advocate of the kind of Keynesian, and New Deal, intervention in national economies, which the ERP and the need for ‘planning’ both epitomised.34 He was in favour of American intervention in Europe as a way of avoiding a repeat of a failure of the post-Versailles order. As with many others scarred by that experience, he had been persuaded to live in Britain in the 1930s, like so many Austro- Hungarian intellectuals (though he spent the entire war in the United States as a member of the various British missions there). A friend of liberal American economist John Kenneth Galbraith, Roll found that by 1940 ‘Keynes’s theories had by then been fully naturalised in America’. This was an America utterly congenial to his beliefs. But he was also aware that whenever the discussions were ‘concerned not with winning the war [such as the “Lend-Lease” programme] but with the economic arrangements of the post-war world’, such as UNRRA and the Bretton Woods Organisations, they ‘proved much more difficult and generally less harmonious’.35 As at Yalta, Roosevelt and his Administration were quite clear that the post-war world would be based on American ideals and needs, 4 EUROPE: RECONSTRUCTION AND INTEGRATION, 1945–1952 137 not those of the previous hegemonic imperial Powers, be they good ally Britain or lesser ally France. For Americans Europe had always been ‘the old world’ against which it measured itself. There was a widespread feeling in American elite circles of whatever internationalist or isolationist persuasion that Europe could not be perpetually bailed out of its own folly by the United States. The key to that folly was always laid at the door of Germany. As the liberal American journal New Republic put it in its first editorial of a series ‘The World After the War’ in early 1945, every policy should be to make Germans work ‘in harmony with our own standards of national conduct’. And the key to that was to get away from the ‘excessive nationalism’ and ‘towards a Europe in which the people of the various countries emphasize what they have in common and sort out their differences’. For New Republic that also meant a politics of the ‘left-of-center… modernized as rapidly as possible’ but simultaneously helping America to establish markets, which would in turn lead to less need for military involvement, thus neatly using the economic and political causes and cures for war arguments.36 As the French were still understandably worried after the war that strengthening Europe would equate to re-arming Germany, so their default position was one of reducing German power as it had been in 1919, and that led the focus to once again be the Rhineland frontier. A key aim of the United States was, in Lord Ismay’s celebrated dictum on NATO—‘to keep the Soviet Union out, the Americans in and the Germans down’.37 That required Britain to play a role that the United States itself would have found hard to accept, one of subordinating some of its sovereignty to a coalition of states, and what has turned into a quasi- federal organisation, the EU. Roll tried to oppose that at every step that we shall consider here—membership of the Schuman Plan, the Coal and Steel Community and the EC after the signature of the Treaty of Rome in 1957. In 1985 he wrote that this was based on ‘[s]cepticism about the success of the enterprise itself… [and] uncertainty about the balance of direct economic advantage from a national [British] point of view.’ But mostly he noticed a ‘[f]ear of loss of sovereignty… powerful in both the major parties – in the Labour Party and the Government [Labour was in power in 1950] not so much perhaps in constitutional terms as in the fear of losing the ability to “plan”’.38 These economic and ideological rationales still dominate discussion on the right and left of British politics. 138 A. J. WILLIAMS

French Visions of Europe: Trust Britain or Germany?

Britain, France and the United States had their own logic for what Europe should become after the war, but all essentially agreed with Belgian Social- ist Henri de Man’s idea that it was necessary for Europe to go ‘beyond nationalism [au-delà du nationalisme]’.39 The problem was they all wanted that process to chime with their own perceived national interests. France had felt abandoned by Britain in 1919, Britain had felt abandoned by the United States, and the United States had harboured a deep resentment against both European powers for accusing it of such actions. In overcoming these historical memories all three states had to reinvent and reimagine a host of historically embedded attitudes. As the direct target of German aggression in 1870, 1914 and 1939 France naturally felt this burden most clearly. After Yalta that burden had only partly been lifted, as France had been put firmly in its place by the other Allies. De Man’s injunction that a necessity for a better world was to have a ‘paix durable’ and not just a ‘paix justicière [a lasting and not just a legally enforced peace]’40 required a degree of reconciliation of which the French were then incapable. In a key overview Quai document, possibly by the then Directeur Poli- tique, written a month or two before the Potsdam Conference of July 1945, it was nonetheless accepted that Europe has to change—‘Le Para- doxe européen [is that] chacun sent la nécessité de sortir du cadre national’, for economic, political and moral reasons. Toynbee is quoted as having said that: ‘Western civilisation is an ambiguous term’, and the anonymous Quai d’Orsay author says he thinks that while Europe is not ‘decadent… [it has] lost its feeling of superiority [perdu le sens de prééminence]’.41 There was a profound sense in France that Europe’s fate was now being decided by three non-European powers, the United States, the USSR and Britain. But what could ‘sortir du cadre national’meaninprac- tice? In mid-1945 the author of the document could see no prospect of France deciding any of this; it was thought that Europe’s future was being decided by Anthony Eden and Stalin (‘une question russo-anglaise’), a view soon to be discredited by Churchill’s election defeat of May 1945. But, much more presciently, the document argues that there was no chance of Europe becoming a third force ‘within a system of blocs’, and would have to opt to adhere to the ‘groupement de l’Atlantique [with a] politique d’indépendance’. This, it admits will be a ‘difficult policy, which 4 EUROPE: RECONSTRUCTION AND INTEGRATION, 1945–1952 139 will not lead to visible success without a huge effort of perseverance, and energy, and well thought out plans’.42 These ‘well thought out plans’ were to come thick and fast in the years to come, and to often contradict each other. As we have seen in 1945 de Gaulle harboured deep suspicions about both the American and British Governments on one side and any future German government on the other. However many more liberal and socialist (often anglophile) French politicians and policy makers felt differently. De Gaulle was by no means unique in feeling he had a rendezvous with historical destiny. Jean Monnet, the later architect of one of the greatest ever liberal transnational constructs, the EEC, had also felt the hand of history on his shoulder in 1940. He was the prime mover of an ‘Anglo- French Union’, a desperate last-ditch attempt to rescue what could be saved of Anglo-French cooperation in the Spring of 1940 as ‘history moved as fast as the tanks [of the German army]’.43 This was also true of the future head of the French Socialist Party (the SFIO), Guy Mollet. Monnet and Mollet wanted this to lead to much closer political cooperation and even integration. Monnet’s vision was one of the initial ‘union’ of Britain and France, and one which he still advocated in 1946, but which would lead to a much wider integration subsequently, an idea that de Gaulle would certainly not have countenanced in 1940.44 All three men had a vital role to play in European and French politics over the next twenty-five years and their visions often clashed. Monnet had spent the entire First World War and most of the Second in London, coordinating what came to be called ‘functional’ (or practical) concrete cooperation over military and economic matters (ravitaillement). In 1915–1919 he acted as the point man for French Economics Minister, Étienne Clémentel, as French coordinator of the Supreme War Council’s Anglo-French Co-ordinating Committee (and the product specific Combined Allied Boards) based in London, boasting in his Mémoires that he had a direct telephone line to Clémentel.45 He was of course not alone and his contacts of the period had a lasting impact on his actions and thinking. Co-members of the ‘Commission Clémentel’ in Paris included future key Gaullist officials such as the socialist André Philip, Commis- saire à l’Interieur (Interior Minister) of the Free French during the war after 1942, and Robert Marjolin, another major French architect of Euro- pean unity.46 Cooperation (and close friendship) with British officials like Arthur Salter at the Treasury, whom he worked with on the Combined 140 A. J. WILLIAMS

Allied Boards during the First World War persuaded Monnet that Anglo- French cooperation was an essential ﬁrst step in a bigger functionalist project towards European unity. These networks were as important in policy terms as were those among Americans who had served at the Paris Peace Conference, who included the future US Secretary of State John Foster Dulles and Anglo-American networks like Chatham House and the Council on Foreign Relations.

Germany

The emphasis at Yalta had been on how to contain Germany, the Ameri- can Morgenthau Plan (see Chapter 3, p. 102) aiming to reduce Germany to an agricultural state. Initially accepted by Roosevelt, it vied with Stalin’s plan to divide the country into up to seven smaller states and strip it of anything that could be ripped out of German factories. As Anne Deighton puts it in an understated fashion, there was ‘little empathy towards a Ger- man perspective in the rebuilding of the postwar European political system.’47 Only Churchill held out for the idea that Germany needed to be kept as strong as was consonant with a peaceful future for Europe. He not only opposed the permanent dismemberment (but not zones of temporary occupation) of Germany but also excessive reparations sanc- tions, whereas Stalin wanted to export 90% of German industrial materiel. The Labour politician Richard Crossman had shared this awareness of the importance of a link between British, French and German security as early as January 1940: ‘justice for Germany is impossible unless Britain guarantees French security; and […] French security is unattainable so long as it is made an exclusively French policy’.48 It was necessary to restrain French instincts for revenge, and Britain had to play its role in that. Among the French exiles, excluded from these discussions, the question remained the old one of the 1920s and 1930s—how could Germany be contained and humbled? Georges-Henri Soutou points out that de Gaulle’s initial idea after 30 October 1943 and in early 1944 consisted in establishing a set of ‘guidelines’ to try and put the French case. His wish was to annex the Ruhr and the Rhineland to France. In August 1945 de Gaulle had told American Ambassador Caffery that as long as Germany was not given the Ruhr he was even happy to allow the Soviet Union to participate in a move ‘so that it was exploited “for the common good”’.49 He also wished to enter into some sort of ‘Federation’ with the Benelux 4 EUROPE: RECONSTRUCTION AND INTEGRATION, 1945–1952 141 countries and ‘eventually’ Britain. His belief that Britain is not really ‘Eu- ropean’ was reinforced by her refusal to go along with the annexation idea. As we saw at the end of the last chapter, the United States initially refused to have anything to do with de Gaulle’s plans for Germany. For de Gaulle, this Anglo-Saxon attitude confirmed for him that the Ameri- cans and British saw themselves as at best a protector of Europe, and at worst its probable master. De Gaulle, says Soutou, initially turned to Rus- sia as a better option to help him control Germany and a ‘Franco-Soviet Pact’ was signed on 10 December 1944. But he was disabused of any real Soviet desire to help France by Stalin’s refusal to in invite him to Yalta or Potsdam in 1945. Soutou quotes American diplomat Charles Bohlen as saying that ‘the Soviets do not wish to see a second major power standing up on the European continent.’50 Hence Germany was a problem that needed a solution but in 1945 few knew what that was to be. 1946–1947 were to prove some of the most difficult years of the century for the population of Germany and the return of internally displaced persons (IDPs) was straining the limited resources of the victorious and defeated powers alike. The IDPs were often survivors of concentration camps, many of whom died after their release from malnutrition and related diseases. Deserters and dislocated troops roamed the roads, usually more to be pitied than feared. In Germany itself the worst excesses of Soviet military brutality towards a population they had very reason to loathe had abated but hardly any of the hundreds of thousands of Ger- man, Italian and other Axis prisoners of war taken during the battles of the Eastern Front ever came home.51 In circumstances like this, France and Europe more generally had need of cool and unemotional heads to try and reduce further bloodletting and disaster. But as we have seen, the French Provisional Government (GPRF), proclaimed on 3 June 1944 just before D-Day, and effectively in power from 31 August 1944–16 January 1947 nonetheless managed to have five ‘Chairmen’ during this period, starting with de Gaulle and ending with Blum. Maybe because of this André Gide saluted Blum’s ‘sagesse… droiture… courage… ton modéré, parfait…’(andtheywereon ‘tutoie’ terms, so close friends) in August 1945. Gide was particularly glad to see a Socialist of Blum’s stature back in the corridors of power who understood the need to distrust the PCF and the USSR. He had himself already, in 1936, joined the ranks of the disillusioned with a book that counts, in French, alongside George Orwell’s Animal Farm as a condemnation of the Soviet experiment.52 142 A. J. WILLIAMS

De Gaulle did not trust Britain to give France its due status, but Blum himself put his faith in Britain, writing in the London-based Le Populaire in September 1945 that Britain’s ‘wealth [richesse matérielle]’ would be ‘recreated in a new order founded on justice, the only condition being that Britain [l’Angleterre] remains a free country’. Hence ‘the problem of the reconstruction of Britain is that of the need for peace [est celui de la paix]’. This led him to hope for a ‘peace built around Great Britain and France… [which would] create a collection [agglomeration]ofthe nations of the West and of the North, and in the near future of the South of Europe as well.’53 In a text of another radio address not long after the Potsdam Conference of July-August 1945, where France was again excluded, the written text, full of corrections by hand, gives some evidence of Blum’s dilemmas. This was a clear European vision of peace, even if Blum saw it as part of an overall ‘international organisation of the world’. In a telling detail he wrote that he did not want a ‘Western Bloc [but] a Western family [Bloc occidental…une famille occidentale]’54 The question remained moot as to whether this ‘family [famille]’ included the United States, nowhere mentioned in the article in Le Populaire. Was this because he feared the never far-absent anti-American reﬂexes of the French Left, or a mere oversight? He certainly shared some of de Gaulle’s suspicions about the intentions of ‘Great Powers’, as his preference for ‘collective security’ made him fear a corollary ‘use of force and repression [forcedelacontrainteetdela repression] [by those Powers]’. But neither did he want it to be against the United States and the USSR but rather in concert with them within the UN, as no security or economic problems could be solved by states alone any more. The expression ‘collective security’ was crossed out and then re-inserted, as were other passages.55 Many of Blum’s correspondents and others in France, especially in the SFIO of which he was still a leader, were very anglophile ﬁgures like Mollet. But the experience of the Groupe Jean Jaurès, the SFIO’s coordinating body with the Labour Party between 1940 and 1944, had shown that putting an almost blind faith in Britain, and especially in the Labour Party, could be a path with many snares (described in Chapter 2, pp. 56–57). Even the disillusions of the Fourth Republic could not make Mollet lose his faith entirely. But he and Blum were even on occasion disabused of their Anglophile beliefs, as when Labour Party MP intellectual Harold Laski wrote to him, in French, to warn him that the new 4 EUROPE: RECONSTRUCTION AND INTEGRATION, 1945–1952 143

British Foreign Secretary Ernest Bevin was ‘no Henderson [Labour For- eign Secretary 1929-31]’, so not an internationalist. Laski declared Bevin was ‘reactionary [and] vain’, while his Under-Secretary of State Philip Noel-Baker [who had been a major link with the SFIO in exile in Lon- don] was a ‘charming liberal but with no capacity for decisive action’. Maybe this is why a passage about Bevin ‘[notre ami Bevin]’ helping Blum to put across his point of view to the USA and USSR in a radio broadcast of October 1945 was crossed out twice.56 By the end of the war French Socialist attitudes included a desire not only for the complete demilitarisation of Germany, but also that she had to be included as an ‘equal’ in creating a peaceful world based on common ‘responsibilities.’ In spite of the need of ‘cleansing’ French views in the close aftermath of the Liberation were already leaning towards a need for a ‘deep transformation’ of German ‘political, economic, social and moral life [vie politique, économique, sociale et morale]’.57 By the end of 1945 these views had mellowed further. Correspondence between Blum and the last Secretary-General of the League of Nations Joseph Avenol again gives us a guide to what many on the European left and beyond it felt must happen. Avenol was probably also pushed by a guilty feeling of what he had not done as Secretary-General of the LON, and condemnation by many in France for his actions as a collaborator, but the fact that Blum retained his letters is significant. Germany must not be excluded from future plans as in 1919 said Avenol. It was vital to include it, not just because of its ‘masse’, but also act as a ‘magnet [foyer d’attraction]’ to form a ‘community of western states’, by which he meant France, Belgium, Holland, and later on Italy, but ‘in particular Great Britain [presque toujours la Grande Bretagne], for are not all our interests almost identical?’ In a later letter he continued his praise of both Britain and its economic plans. The United States could not provide the leadership Europe needed in the same way.58 It is difficult to be sure how seriously Blum took these suggestions. In his morally supe- rior position he received expressions along the same lines from prominent German socialists like Otto Grotewohl, later the first Prime Minister of the German Democratic Republic (GDR) from 1949 to 1964.59 Blum had already received warnings of the reliability of British socialists in any plans he made for France from Laski, so Avenol’s promotion of Britain and of a European focus for France and his denigration of the United States could have been seen as self-serving. After all, he had supported Pétain during the war and had to remain in exile in Switzerland in 1952 144 A. J. WILLIAMS for fear of retribution. What this all showed was that there was an emerging contradiction of views between France and Britain about the relationship which they would be able to have with each other and the United States well before the first steps on the route to a ‘united Europe’. But many would have agreed with Blum’s statement on the radio in Octo- ber 1945 that ‘we cannot accept this phoney peace [drôledepaix]: we must reconstruct, we have to think anew, we have to think big [il faut reconstruire; il faut voir neuf; il faut voir grand].’60

Reconstruction

Much discussed in the aftermath of the First World War, ‘reconstruction’ once again became one of the few words around which a consensus could be formed in the 1940s. The idea was re-thought by the plethora of think- tanks that gave input into the PWP process. The veteran James Shotwell of the Carnegie Endowment for international Peace, who had performed a similar role after 1918,61 gathered a lot of material, including about the devastated regions of Europe, even before the war ended. George Radin, a staff member of the Bureau of Foreign Agricultural Relations in Washing- ton, made a particular study of Yugoslavian problems. All of the publications he cites, on subjects from soil conservation and nutritional problems to proposals for electrification, mechanisation and even child welfare and regional library provision were all prepared in the United States, mostly by the United States Department of Agriculture. The objective was to bring ‘a considerable number of young men and women of Yugoslavia’ to the United States to be trained. This would help lead to a ‘more durable peace in the Balkan area … in the hope that other nations in the Balkans may benefit …’ Shotwell sent a follow-up edited publication by Radin on to a prospective publisher with the comment that it was ‘a very puz- zling book … primarily a guide for Serbian leaders in reconstruction, and yet it was prepared mainly in the Department of Agriculture because Ser- bia is a farming country … but it has a certain quality of sincerity which makes it a valid expression of the Serbian peasant’s needs’.62 The somewhat condescending tone is common to attempts of the period to define what reconstruction really entailed. Reconstruction in Europe began to be conceived as a multi-faceted process, not only addressing the results of war in terms of physical destruction, but also on a much deeper level, that of ‘culture’. In the words of the UNESCO Constitution of November 1945, ‘since wars 4 EUROPE: RECONSTRUCTION AND INTEGRATION, 1945–1952 145 begin in the minds of men, it is in the minds of men that the defences of peace must be constructed’. But if that is where the process of stopping its repetition had to start, where to find it? The British in particular had a well-established tradition of seeing German, and now Japanese, society as impregnated by unhealthy doses of ‘militarism’, a word often linked to ‘Prussian’. Many Americans and Russians agreed with such sentiments. Germans themselves, especially on the Left, also agreed, echoing Karl Leibknecht’s eponymous book of 1907.63 In the aftermath of the war, the main drive by all the Allies was to change this cultural flaw. The result was a massive influx of writers, poets, musicians, artists of all kinds to give lectures, performances, and organise exhibitions, all among the ruins of sometimes totally destroyed towns and cities. As with politics, so each country’s cultural contribution reflected different histories and attitudes.64

The Marshall Plan (ERP)

President Truman declared to Congress on 29 March 1947 that communism was the biggest threat to world peace, given Soviet actions in Greece, Iran and Turkey, in his ‘Truman Doctrine’. From that date on the question was whether to reply to that threat with military force or to devise economic and other mechanisms to contain it. The military build-up noted by successive French Ambassadors was one element of an answer. However Truman had said on 12 March of the same year to a joint session of Congress that help to friendly nations should be ‘primarily through economic and financial aid which is essential to economic stability and orderly political processes’.65 The ‘Marshall Plan’ (the ‘Eu- ropean Recovery Program’—ERP) was the main structure through which that was delivered. Its passage through Congress as the Foreign Assistance Act of 3 April 1948 meant that it formally replaced the Morgenthau Plan of 1944. The ERP was first formally announced by Secretary of State George Marshall in his commencement speech at Harvard University on 5 June 1947 following on other measures by the Truman Administration to try and solve the problems of Europe. It was widely viewed at the time and since as a gauntlet thrown down by the United States to attract the eyes of a European public opinion faced with two contrasting visions of the future, one liberal, capitalist and democratic, the other centrally-planned, socialist and potentially autocratic. The populations of Europe were fed 146 A. J. WILLIAMS up with ideologues, they wanted and needed results, so we must not assume that the American proposals were bound to be greeted with joy and acceptance. Liberal thinking and practice was still in the intensive care ward; Soviet Communism had just liberated Berlin; Britain had just elected a socialist government wedded to ideas of widespread nationalisation and planning; whilst in France de Gaulle had set up the Commissariat général au Plan on 3 January 1946 in one of his last acts as President.66 Neither must we assume that the United States intended the ERP, at this moment, to be a definitive challenge to Moscow’s ambitions. It was a delicate balancing act. Historians have long debated whether the reconstruction of Europe after 1945 was due in the main to the exertions of Europeans themselves, and to what extent it was the result of the ERP after 1948.67 Some- times it seems as though the discussion hinges on ideological positions held much later than the 1940s, over the subsequent divisions wrought by ‘neo-liberalism’ in the 1980s. For example, British historian Corelli Barnett felt that ERP funding, in Britain’s case at least, was squandered by the Labour Government on imperial costs and not on the necessary industrial reconstruction effort. David Edgerton has counter-argued that Britain emerged from the war a strong industrial power, united in purpose, and continued to be one long after the ERP had been wrapped up. But mostly historians have been kind about the results of American largesse. Public opinion across Europe, which we have noted was one of the main targets of the ERP programme, was also very positive about its actual or likely effects. American pollsters reported high levels of awareness in Europe of the ERP in mid-1948—90% of the French population had heard of it, 63% approved of it, although only 32% thought it would improve their lives. Of British respondents 55% approved of it and 48% thought it would benefit them.68 Initially for the Quai d’Orsay there was doubt as to whether France would be included in any American largesse. A report on Marshall’s March 1947 discussions with Stalin in Moscow, which preceded Truman’s speech and can be seen as triggering it, had concluded that Marshall’s appointment meant that ‘the United States will not pursue its [feared] abandonment of Europe [leur politique d’abandon en Europe]’, as it had after 1919. Marshall had arrived in Paris the day after leaving Moscow on 6 March, so before Truman’s speech, and he had confirmed that the United States had no intention of repeating its actions of the 1920s. But 4 EUROPE: RECONSTRUCTION AND INTEGRATION, 1945–1952 147 the wounds and suspicions left by Yalta continued to fester, with subsequent reports shedding doubt on whether there were still secret clauses decided upon by Stalin and Roosevelt. Even the State Department did not seem to know, only Harry Hopkins might know and he was not seen as divulging this information, even to the proclaimed annoyance of prominent American politicians like New Hampshire Republican Senator Styles Bridges. Even worse to French ears was a reported discussion at Yalta about the future of the Ruhr and Germany where the British had suggested to the Americans ‘in the presence or our source’ that France could be excluded ‘given its weakness’. Stalin was evoked as having said at Yalta that ‘the term Big Three is meaningless [le mot Big Three ne signifie rien, nous devrions causer à deux]’.69 Other reports indicated that the appointment of General Lucius Clay had been intended to show that France would not be allowed to interfere too much in American decisions on Germany, Trieste and other delicate issues. In return France would be included in the administration of Germany, given one of the three Western ‘zones’. The 1948 ‘Six Power Conference’, also in London, settled the zone question.70 The French establishment was not sure how to receive either the Truman Doctrine or the Marshall Plan from the outset, and was inclined to think that it was another American plot to impose its views on Europe, as the UNRRA proposals had first been seen in 1944 after D-Day when Herbert Lehman had explained them. Marshall was received with the same suspicion as his predecessor, as another dubious Greek bringing gifts.71 So what were American motives? The economist Walt Rostow, in 1947 a junior State Department staffer, recalled in 1981 that the main impe- tuses for the ERP had been threefold: the widespread American realisation that the continent of Europe was in a desperate state in 1946–1947; the need to present a ‘constructive way forward for all’, as David Ellwood translates the feeling; and Marshall’s ‘gruelling’ experiences in Moscow in March 1947, when it became clear that the Soviet view of the future of Germany was very different from that of the Western Allies. Rostow summed up the situation by paraphrasing Kennan’s ‘pithy view… of April 29, 1947… “Europe was in a mess. Something would have to be done. If he [Marshall] did not take the lead, others would”’. Since these ‘others’ meant the Soviet Union, with which the United States was slipping into Cold War , there was no choice. In a review of Rostow’s book, the historian Fritz Stern suggested that it should have been titled ‘Present at 148 A. J. WILLIAMS the Division’ in conscious homage to Acheson’s memoirs ‘Present at the Creation’.72 What all historians agree upon is the new ‘importance of economic factors in American foreign policy’ as Robert Pollard puts it. In his view this was a USA ‘willing to sacrifice short-term national advantage for long- term gains in Western stability and security’, led by ‘enlightened and responsible’ leaders such as Truman, Clayton, Kennan and Acheson.73 When the United States had engaged in economic nationalism in the 1920s it was blamed for helping to plunge the world into economic crisis and recession. When this lesson was learned and the United States reversed course after 1940 it was blamed for being too intrusive and even ‘imperialist’.74 Inevitably this debate has become tied up with the more general discussion about the role of the United States in the origins of the Cold War more widely, a ‘war’ that was to play a vital role in the formation of a united Europe, as a bulwark against Communism but simultaneously a realisation of an idealist goal of long-standing, a Europe free of war and made up of democracies that willingly ‘pooled’ their sovereignty in the pursuit of a higher common good. This somewhat idealist belief in American benevolence has been con- verted in recent years by historians like Melvyn Leffler into a more subtle understanding of what has been called ‘an amazing mirror-like similarity between strategic patterns of thought and friend-foe perception in Amer- ican and Soviet policy’ after 1945. Leffler believed by 1996 that there was no Soviet ‘plan’ to subjugate Europe or Germany, and quotes Caroline Kennedy-Pipe’s view that ‘the dominant concern of the Soviet leadership was the security and survival of the new Soviet state’. They had, this time quoting Norman Naimark, no ‘specific long-range goals in mind’.75 But neither, at least before 1947–1948, did the Americans: they wanted to preserve the benefits of US-Soviet wartime collaboration but they mainly wanted to stop a collapse of central Europe, in particular Germany, into a new and even worse version of the chaos of the 1920s. Both the USSR and the USA feared a Germany dominated by the other and that was the issue that ultimately destroyed the remains of the war-time entente. Hence Pollard’s positive view of American actions economically and in other ways in Europe has to be countered by the views of revisionist historians like Joyce and Gabriel Kolko, who see ‘Washington’s primary and essential [Pollard’s emphasis] aim was to restructure the world so that American business could trade, operate, and profit without restrictions everywhere’. That accusation, and Pollard’s rebuttal, has in turn to be 4 EUROPE: RECONSTRUCTION AND INTEGRATION, 1945–1952 149 debated in the light of others states’ reactions to the United States’ world order organised around the Bretton Woods Organisations of 1944. It also has to been seen in the light of subsequent endless rounds of trade negotiations in the 1950s and 1960s (and beyond) in the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (GATT). In the 1960s de Gaulle, and French Gov- ernments of the 1950s, were often major obstacles to American attempts at trade liberalisation and European integration alike unless French interests were not respected. The Americans did not always get their own way, whatever their ambitions.76 American order-making was not only on the global economic level of course. Culture, what we would now call ‘soft power’ was as vital a tool of influence and just as resented, and it was often on the level of the everyday. The process of European integration was as much influenced by the presence of American troops and culture as by anything purely European and just as much resented. Hence the ubiquitous graffiti of the post-war period, ‘Yankees go home’, a worthy successor to complaints of the wartime period in Britain that Americans were ‘oversexed, overpaid and over here’. Notwithstanding these complaints, the 1950s and 1960s also saw a process of ‘Westernisation’ due to, for example, the connections made between Britons, French, Germans and Americans, through inter- marriage, and through a much wider cultural mixing.77 Europe can thus be said to be as much an American construct as one that was created by and among Europeans, the narrative that over-zealous europhiles tend to espouse. Both Britain and the United States on one hand and the USSR on the other thus saw the future peace of Europe as inextricably tied up with the future fate of Germany, the cause of two world wars. Both states wanted to make sure that they controlled the situation by tying as much of Germany into their orbit and world view as possible. It became progressively clearer to many European political figures that the only way Europe could be at peace was through an alliance between France and Germany, a reversal of over a hundred years of conflict. In his ‘United States of Europe’ speech in Zurich on 19 September 1946, Churchill suggested that: ‘There can be no revival of Europe without a spiritually great France and a spiritually great Germany.’78 But in this, Britain was to be ‘sponsor’. The Labour Party, which by July 1945 had its first ever majority Government, saw Britain’s relationship with the ‘Continent’ in similar terms. In August 1945 Foreign Secretary Ernest Bevin told his assembled officials and the British Ambassador to Paris, Duff Cooper, that 150 A. J. WILLIAMS the Government wished to ‘establish close relations between this country and the countries on the Mediterranean and Atlantic fringes of Europe— e.g. more especially Greece, Italy, France, Belgium, the Netherlands and Scandinavia’. The order of priority in this sentence says volumes about British priorities, as does the reference to ‘fringes’.79 Both major parties still assumed in 1945–1946 that Britain could continue to rely on its partnership with the United States, its Empire and its overseas investment and trade advantages. These slowly dissipated as the post-war period wore on, until like the story of the frog that was being slowly boiled Britain realised in the early 1970s that they were nearly cooked.

Britain and Federalism in Policy Terms Bevin was one of the few British trade unionists, and Foreign Secretary from 1945 to 1950, to give much thought about a united Europe. He became increasingly an advocate of federalist ideas, influenced by Lionel Curtis and Philip Kerr (Lord Lothian) of the Round Table movement. This movement was decidedly imperial in focus, and contained no specific place for Europe. Bevin’s above-mentioned lukewarm views on France were intertwined with his belief in the British Empire. Anne Deighton quotes him saying in 1938 that the ‘Ottawa system’ (the British Imperial Preference for trade) was ‘a road which we in the British Empire—possibly in common with the great colonial powers … could use … for collective economic rights and collective defence.’ During the war Attlee had reiter- ated many times how much he saw Britain’s future as lying with the Com- monwealth, ‘a union of free peoples inspired by common ideals where no single partner is dominant over the rest.’ The most he would concede (in his speech notes of 1942) was the necessity for ‘a reconstruction of the moral and spatial Europe’. Attlee later acknowledged that Europe was a problem but it was just a lot less important than the rest of the world for Britain: ‘Europe, which is not exactly pivotal in terms of world economic rehabilitation is at least of very great importance. It is clear I think that we cannot establish any kind of “normal” life on this island until Europe is somewhere near normal.’80 This was damning with faint praise. Bevin was not alone on the left in flirting with federalism. Labour Party intellectual Richard Crossman cited a debate at the Oxford Union in late 1939 where a Frenchman had debated the future of Europe with an Englishman, ‘an advocate of Federal Union’. The Englishman with whom he had been debating had suggested that there should be ‘a new 4 EUROPE: RECONSTRUCTION AND INTEGRATION, 1945–1952 151

European order… elected from the European nations… proportionate to the size of the populations.’ But surely, expostulated the Frenchman, that would mean Germany would have twice the representation of France? He had left ‘in high dudgeon’. Crossman considered that this reaction was because of what the Frenchman saw as ‘the British belief that machinery is a substitute for responsibility’, that ‘we would content ourselves with setting up machinery and then pulling out of Europe.’ What was needed said Crossman was that ‘Britain [had to] take the lead in working [the machinery]’.81 The dilemma was thus accurately exposed very early in the war, and by a key British policy maker (and in this case posi- tively annotated by Philip Noel-Baker, the British Minister whose job was liaising with the French exiles in London). But neither the left (as with Attlee and Bevin) nor the right (as with Curtis and Kerr) of the federalists envisaged Britain as a member of such a Europe. British thinking about European integration has always been shrouded in cautious quasi-approbation, and very little enthusiasm. Frank O’Gor- man summed it up pithily with ‘[h]istory provides no ready answer to the enduring question: is Britain a European state?’ Former Foreign and Commonwealth Office Chief Historian Patrick Salmon further argues that the experience of entering into ‘ententes’ with France and Russia in the early 1900s had led to two wars, ‘with [their] suffering… sacrifice… [and] huge cost’ and this had ‘all served to strengthen an instinctual revul- sion from European affairs’, because ‘British interests were worldwide and not simply European’. This increasingly meant that Britain looked to its Empire and the United States for its security and, equally important, overseas trade, not to a war-torn dangerous ‘Continent’ where there was the real danger of being asked to provide military guarantees and binding commitments of all sorts. This was precisely what had happened again in the 1930s and France was often cited as the main source of such demands. Salmon quotes Foreign Secretary Lord Curzon saying in 1923 that ‘there is no altruism in the policy of our great neighbour….’, and by the 1930s neither was there any in Britain’s former great European ally of the nineteenth century, Prussia (now Germany). Nonetheless Britain found itself ineluctably sucked into European ‘arrangements’ and therefore ‘dependent on Europeans’, whereas what Britain identified as its own major concern was its Empire and the world of trade.82 Within Bevin’s new department we can in addition see a clear element of continuity in thinking from the interwar period. The Foreign Office elite harboured a visceral horror of the prospect of a repeat of the Allied 152 A. J. WILLIAMS disarray of the 1920s over the Ruhr and the Rhineland, as well as feeling a need to learn the ‘lessons’ of 1919 more broadly. There is dispute among historians about how much this affected policy making. Patricia Clavin is of the belief that on the key reparations issue the British did not feel strongly one way or the other.83 Elspeth O’Riordan disagrees somewhat and feels that the (disastrous) experiences of the 1920s in the Ruhr and Rhineland definitely affected post-1945 policy making, as did the feeling of the absolute necessity of avoiding the domestic disarray that had prevailed in Britain in the 1920s. One key vector for that was the close relationship which existed among a relatively small academic and policy-making elite in Britain in the interwar years, to which we can add the think-tank institutions with which all of these people were familiar, a universe that included many American academics and policy makers as we have stressed in previous chapters. The French had limited access to these and virtually none of their own until the 1940s debates within the Free French community. A consequence says O’Riordan, is that ‘[b]y the end of 1946, Britain’s approach was to pursue Bizonia—a policy of tying the British Zone [in Germany] firmly to the USA, assuming the French would be forced to join and the Soviets would not.’ Bizonia did become a real possibility after Secretary of State James Byrnes accepted the idea in July 1946, with a view to stemming the obvious starvation and economic disarray of Germany, one that threatened a repeat of the problems of the 1920s.84 France was given its own zone in London in 1948 as was previously noted.

Defence and Reconstruction

The ‘problem of Western defence [armament]’ and its links to the ERP were the key issues for the United States and Britain after the war and throughout the period 1947–1950 and beyond. The French Government was aware of this and tried to find ways to use that for its own advantage at a period when its leverage was pathetically inadequate when politicians like Attlee were saying that Europe was ‘not exactly pivotal’. American concerns were partly for financial and economic reasons. The Quai d’Or- say recorded Chairman of the Federal Reserve (from 1934 to February 1948) Marriner Stoddard Eccles as being worried in May 1948 that the ‘financial, economic, even social’ consequences of the United States pour- ing money into European defence on top of economic aid could lead to an ‘inflationary crisis’. But in the end the Quai realised that it was military 4 EUROPE: RECONSTRUCTION AND INTEGRATION, 1945–1952 153 necessity which was winning out over financial prudence. It was learned in November 1948 that State Department staffer, and recent Ambassador to Bulgaria, Maynard Barnes, had told a Spanish friend that ‘a war with the USSR… was inevitable in the long term’, so ‘rearmament was the mot d’ordre’. Barnes had seen first-hand the way the Soviet Union was undermining the supposedly cooperative Allied Commissions of Control, ‘which bore a striking and ominous resemblance to the atmosphere in Russia during the November 1917 Revolution’.85 He was sent on a fact-finding mission to France, Switzerland, Italy and maybe even Belgrade now that Tito and Stalin had fallen out, to sound out the prospects for a ‘Western defence project [projet de défense occidentale]’. The ‘Marshall Plan [was to act as] as a kind of magnetic loadstone [aimant]’, an economic carrot for the defence stick. But how to get the Western Europeans to accept that they also needed to raise their defence game faced with the Soviet threat? Again the French Government knew of this worry—the Americans were terrified of West European ‘defeatism’— that their allies would feel the Russians would be impossible to stop so ‘they just need to wait for a second Liberation [il ne restait donc qu’at- tendre une nouvelle Libération]’. It was also an admission, as an intelligence analysis for then Prime Minister Bidault (28 October 1949–24 June 1950) acknowledged, that the United States knew that ‘they were not, for the moment, capable of defending Europe effectively’.86 After his re-election in 1948 Truman was obliged to recognise this fact, as Couve de Murville was to acknowledge in an assessment of American foreign policy aims and dilemmas in February 1949. This was just before the new Secretary of State, Dean Acheson, appeared in Paris on a charm offensive to try and persuade the French of their need to help the United States defend Europe. When Acheson spoke shortly afterwards to Bonnet and Alexandre Parodi, ‘Secrétaire générale’ of the Quai d’Orsay in Wash- ington he of course made a lot of nice noises about Franco-American cooperation [‘en terms chaleureuses de la coopération franco-américaine’]. But his main message was that the United States were requiring their Allies, the ‘British and French’, to agree on Germany. That ‘agreement’, it became more and more apparent in the coming years, required an acceptance of an enhanced security role and rearmament for the erstwhile enemy state. And as Acheson stressed, the carrot for this uncomfortable stick would be ever more help with economic aid and also assistance with economic integration (Acheson explicitly mentioned Franco-Italian economic union, a precursor to wider union).87 It is important to see how 154 A. J. WILLIAMS that American urging and promises of help blended in with growing intellectual currents in Europe that had their origins in pre- and post-war movements.

The Beginnings of European Integration

The end of the ‘old Europe’ dates from the outbreak of the First World War, not the Second. The most celebrated literary statement of nostalgia for that end was by Stefan Zweig: ‘It was the age of gold and security [C’etait l’âge de l’or et de la securité]’; what succeeded it was the opposite. Zweig was so depressed at the outbreak of a second global con- ﬂict that he committed suicide in Brazil in 1941.88 But nostalgia for a lost world or a mere desire for a united Europe for political or security reasons could not be achieved without the support of the populations affected. Reconstruction cannot merely be a stick, without carrots it is always merely an aspiration, and it has to be backed up with a clear idea of economic progress. We have seen that social systems were affected by the experience of deprivation that the populations of the globe endured and subsequent calls for welfare reforms were articulated in the demands of all French and British parties, which in turn often evoked Roosevelt’s New Deal. The power of that collective feeling led to massive increases in public spending on welfare after 1945 in all Western nations.89 This led to a dual imperative: ﬁrst that any post-war Western policies had to assist the new higher levels of expenditure, and that any international policies had to mutually reinforce the efforts of each state to ensure that this was possible. The war had seemingly demonstrated to most economists and politicians that cooperation between different states and what was usually called ‘planning’ within them needed to be continued into the peace. The only way to do this was to encourage closer regional and potentially global cooperation between states. The question was then, and arguably is now, what geometry this cooperation should follow. The debate about European cooperation has to be seen in this context.

Globalism: Functionalism and Federalism As was explored in previous chapters, the period after 1945, as well as during the war itself, gave rise to a huge upsurge of new thinking about what kind of ideas might help reconstruct the world both practically as well as in the ethical and moral sense. The candidates for how ‘Europe’ 4 EUROPE: RECONSTRUCTION AND INTEGRATION, 1945–1952 155 could be refashioned were numerous. But it was a Briton of Romanian extraction that gave this most intellectual impetus. David Mitrany posited that functional cooperation (which he called ‘low politics’) would eventually lead, through a process of engrenage (always badly translated as ‘spillover’) to the integration of ‘high politics’, at the level of the state.90 Such ‘functionalist’ ideas, like many other of the themes of this and previous chapters, had deeper roots than the period of the Second World War, and at least the end of the nineteenth century with the works of the Amer- ican political scientist Paul Reinch.91 Mitrany’s most famous expression of the idea came out during the war in A Working Peace System in 1943. As Rosenboim puts it, Mitrany, along with French political scientist Ray- mond Aron, were ‘reimagining the State in a Global Space’. They were also great admirers of British and American patterns of thought about planning and social reform. Both had close relations with William Bev- eridge, at the London School of Economics, and with Friedrich Hayek and Lionel Robbins and both ‘admired Britain’s social and political institutions’.92 But the conclusions they were to draw from this admiration were to differ markedly in ways which still resonate strongly today. Mitrany, an idealist who nonetheless had a better feel for the possible as opposed to the grandiose, felt that the idea that worked for a nation- state might not work so well for a continent. British Federalists often cited the American Republic as an example of how to make the idea work at a European scale. But this, wrote Mitrany, had happened in ‘much simpler conditions than those facing Twentieth Century Europe’. Hence ‘[t]he “European” federalists have been so fascinated by a readily convenient formula that they have neither asked how it works, where it exists, nor whether its origins bear any relation to the problem of uniting a group of states in the present social ambience.’93 Mitrany was more a man of the ‘left’ than Aron (though we should not over-emphasise this difference) and was very drawn to the thinking of Fabian G. D. H. Cole and Leonard Woolf of the Labour Party. From Cole he took the economic impetus for his theories, from Woolf his belief in international cooperation. The Labour Party was not entirely receptive to any intellectual stimulus, so Mitrany had to tread with care. Clement Attlee commented in June 1939 about Cole, who had advocated that Labour join with the Communists at one point in the early 1930s, that he was a ‘permanent undergraduate’.94 But neither did Mitrany give comfort to the many on Britain’s left, then and now, who fear a capitalist European 156 A. J. WILLIAMS federal super-state. But he did share their understanding of the need for cautious and piecemeal engrenage. Aron’s real obsession was understandably, both during and after the war, more basic—he feared for the state of France, and of how to re- establish its democracy.95 With Britain no longer a world power by the end of the war Aron felt that Europe might be, or might become, a federation. This was a vague aspiration in 1945. As Rosenboim puts it, ‘[t]he fundamental message of Aron’s wartime international thought was scepticism about abstract and absolute political visions’. The war showed him that only solid nation-states could survive, even if he thought, again in Rosenboim’s words that ‘the idea of “nationality” was a necessary stabilizing factor for the new world order, but it was no longer sufﬁcient’. Hence after the war he relaxed his scepticism slightly, suggesting in 1947 that a European Union of some sort might be a stronger bulwark, maybe a ‘federation or alliance’ with Britain ‘despite their geopolitical differences’.96 That kind of federalism was of course not that advocated by thinkers in the United States, and this maybe also explains luke-warm British attitudes to it in the post-war years as imperial dreams faded. The chief contemporary pre-war American advocate of such unions was Clarence Streit, whose Union Now of 1939 was widely quoted as a novel and interesting way of reinforcing the Western democracies against the rising tide of extreme nationalism in Germany, Italy and Japan. Streit’s book was a best-seller and proposed a union of the democracies, including Britain, the United States, and many other democratic states within the North Atlantic region.97 But these ideas again did not make much impact on British political attitudes. In 1940 the enthusiasts of ‘Federal Union’ were not numerous, one of them writing to the Spectator on 27 June 1940 that:

Whatever the motives for the offer, it is quite clear now that only through a constitutional union with common citizenship and a written constitution can there be any complete certainty of common action and mutual security in the face of all dangers. This offer of Union has now made it quite clear that no amount of interlocking administrative machinery is sufﬁcient. Common citizen-ship and a common set of laws and a common Legislature are essential.98 4 EUROPE: RECONSTRUCTION AND INTEGRATION, 1945–1952 157

Hence Mitrany’s preference for the piecemeal and relatively slow idea of functional integration over the political big bang of federal integration was not the sole preserve of the British left. In later political theory Anglo-American scepticism about such ideal groupings has if anything become more entrenched. Derek Heater’s analysis shows that communi- tarian thinking feels that the ideal of citizenship ‘requires a tightly knit community in which citizens can display an effective allegiance, and that the EU, pace the legal status of citizenship of the Union [bestowed on all EU nationals since the Maastricht Treaty of 1992] is no such bonded community’. Henri de Man, mentioned above, subtitled his book urging a move ‘beyond’ nationalism, ‘Towards World Government [Vers un gou- vernment mondiale]’ and such has been the ambition of many supporters of the UN and many europhiles who see European union as a step in the right direction. Opposition to this view is echoed in both French and British thinking and practice of the 1950s and 1960s. In de Man’s defence he believed that the invention of the atomic bomb rendered functionalist approaches far too timid and gradualist to deal with the pressing problems of the day. He was also by 1946 rather in tune with the neoliberals in that he had lost his faith with the planning that was being touted as the solution to Europe’s and the world’s ills, he thought the alphabet soup of the Bretton Woods accords was [sic in original] ‘too much of a good thing’.99

Planning Although the war constituted an important caesura in economic and social thinking there were also clear continuities from the 1930s that lasted through to the 1950s, 1960s and beyond. The PWP and domestic planning ideas that were described in Chapter 3 are ample evidence of that. In Britain that lineage is most clear within the Labour Party , with thinkers like G. D. H. Cole, Attlee’s ‘permanent undergradute’, and Barbara Ward as key advocates. Ward was in favour of the reintegration of Germany into the Comity of Nations after the war, and a fervent supporter of the Marshall Plan . For Ward this was a necessity as the ‘West [was] at bay’.100 So part of the logic of planning for her was that the West was still on a war-footing, a proposition that de Man and others did not accept, for did not (in 1946) ‘Russian and American soldiers stand guard [together] in the ruins’ as he observed? What was needed was a Franco- German ‘entente, more important than ever’, and a Socialist Europe led 158 A. J. WILLIAMS by the British Labour Party . Like his Socialist comrade Blum, an absurd faith was being placed on Clement Attlee’s shoulders by de Man. Britain had now become the ‘pivot’ around which peace in Europe had to be organised, for it had ‘taken the place traditionally held by France [repris la place traditionelle de la France]’.101 In France itself, as Philip Nord has shown, the 1930s ideas of ‘planning’ and of ‘social security ’ in particular were transmitted, partly though Vichy, to the Gaullist and left-wing elites of French post-war planning of 1944–1946 and beyond.102 Britain, with the ‘Welfare State’, and the United States, with the ‘New Deal’, had already or were in the process of turning to statist ideas.103 The ideas and practices that emerged in all three countries during and after the war were quite naturally mutually influenced, or in the constructivist phrase, mutually constituted. We get an idea of this in a letter from the socialist Jean-Louis Crémieux (aka ‘Brilhac’ in the Resistance) to Daniel Mayer (aka ‘Villiers’) who was able to state that the main influences on the broad church of the Resis- tance included the journalist Pertinax and Jacques Maritain, the Catholic philosopher, as well as the writings of G. D. H. Cole at Nuffield College Oxford.104 This continuity was one of the elements that even French academic studies until the 1960s refused to recognize. A study of planning ‘la Plan- ification’ of 1962 by Pierre Bauchet gives the impression that the idea was never entertained, both for ‘doctrinal’ reasons and because of the ‘conservatism and individualism of [various] Administrations’. The credit for the idea is essentially given to Jean Monnet, and that mainly as a result of his observations of Franco-British cooperation in 1939–1940 and in Wash- ington.105 But Nord rightly stresses that the continuities existed between pre-war French thinking about economic, political and social organisation and that which emerged after 1945. Monnet’s experiences and post-war role need not be denied to see this continuity. The United States followed the development of Monnet’s Plan after the war, an analysis of August 1948 crediting Monnet with having reduced inflation markedly, and returning industrial capacity to 1938 levels in France, but noting sourly that growth had ‘missed the target.’ Moreover ‘without US interim aid… economic recovery in France would have been even more seriously retarded.’ They also noted, in a later analysis of 1949 (so well after the ERP had been implemented) that Communist subversion was a key factor in explaining why the French economy was not growing as it should, a factor of ‘no more than a nuisance value’ in Britain. France was lumped 4 EUROPE: RECONSTRUCTION AND INTEGRATION, 1945–1952 159 together with Italy, Iceland, and Korea in the ‘considerable’ category. By April 1950 the CIA were still fretting about ‘French Labor unrest’.106 That indeed chimes with Monnet’s comment of 1950 that ‘whichever way we turn, in the present world situation we see nothing but deadlock’, later reflecting that ‘if we did nothing we should soon face war again’.107 The Schuman Plan was to convert that pessimism into optimism within a fairly short time. It is also true that ‘a veritable alphabet soup of agencies and commissions was created’, of which the Commissariat du Plan in 1946 and the Ecole Nationale d’Administration (ENA) are the most celebrated. Whole industries were nationalised, partly to try and avoid the inefficiencies that had dogged pre-war production, notably military but mainly to mod- ernise France. There was a full-blooded emphasis on the role of the state, often cited as being a key difference with the ‘Anglo-Saxon’ economies, though arguably at least Britain was the equal of France in nationalising its industry. However much of the change that was seen during the Vichy regime of 1940–1944 had its precursors in the growing authoritarianism of the Third Republic before 1939, what has been called ‘Vichy avant Vichy’ and state planning to some extent fed on these antecedents. And it is simultaneously true that there was some borrowing and lending of ideas between the three countries, in all aspects of national organisation.108

French Thinking About Europe After 1950

French views on the reconstruction of Europe until 1950 were not opti- mistic for the future, and the CIA shared that pessimism as we have seen. Yet later the same year the deadlock was broken by the change of heart by French Foreign Minister Robert Schuman and his famous ‘Plan’ of 8 May 1950:

Europe will not be made all at once, or according to a single plan. It will be built through concrete achievements which ﬁrst create a de facto solidarity. The coming together of the nations of Europe requires the elimination of the age-old opposition of France and Germany.

This in turn led to the European Coal and Steel Community (ECSC) and ultimately inspired the European Economic Community and the ‘Treaty of Rome’ signed in 1957.109 160 A. J. WILLIAMS

So what changed matters? The passage from deadlock to breakthrough has obsessed scholars of European integration ever since. O’Riordan argues that it was ironically the British who were behind an idea that later on emerges as a ‘French’ one, the Schuman Plan itself. When Bevin was asked by Bidault in April 1946 to support France in opposing Amer- ican and Soviet views on the Ruhr (where they wished to keep the Ruhr attached to Germany as part of a Bizonia and the French did not, as in 1919), Bevin replied that:

He [Bevin] was thinking of the desirability of linking up the industry of the Ruhr with the mines in Lorraine. Could we not achieve a new international organisation for industry? He believed that the industry of the Ruhr could contribute to the unity of Europe by serving everybody.

Bidault replied that ‘the main difference between the French and the British Government was that the French stressed the political and the British the economic point of view’.110 The British Government were however interested in taking the Ruhr out of the strategic balance to avoid, again, any re-run of the tensions of the 1920s, and especially any French attempt to occupy the area.

The Schuman Plan, the Ruhr and the Sarre The ECSC111 was to prove the first concrete ‘functional’ result of pressure for economic integration in Europe after the Second World War. It very much attempted to resolve the perennial question outlined above, of how to stop feuding over what must be seen as the key commodity problems of Europe in the pre-oil era. The fighting over coal fields in the 1870s and during the First World War demonstrated both the strategic importance of coal for European war making and peacetime prosperity. The battle for Vimy Ridge near Arras between October 1914 (when the German Army captured the ridge) and April 1917 (when Canadian and British troops recaptured it) was a classic example of German forces deny- ing the enemy one of its main sources of coal supply and then fighting tenaciously to retain them, with huge losses being experienced on both sides of the struggle. To this day Vimy is both a terrible warning of the destructive power of coal (as well as being a major symbol of Canadian national identity). 4 EUROPE: RECONSTRUCTION AND INTEGRATION, 1945–1952 161

After the First World War, one of the most contentious areas of conflict between France and Germany was over the steel and coal producing areas on the Franco-German and Belgian borders. French occupation of the Saarland under the terms of the Versailles Treaty had never been accepted by the local population. It had also led to great differences of opinion with Britain and had contributed to souring other areas of Anglo-French cooperation. In the words of the Morgenthau Plan Memorandum of 1944, the Ruhr: ‘lies [at] the heart of German industrial power, the cauldron of wars.’ Churchill re-stated this at the August 1944 Quebec Conference as meaning the need to ‘eliminat[e] the warmaking industries in the Ruhr and the Saar… looking forward to converting Germany into a country primarily agricultural and pastoral in its character.’112 But Hull hated the idea as probably leading to even more savage resistance from the Ger- mans, and Churchill changed his mind quite quickly in line with his growing antipathy to the Morgenthau Plan and an increasing appreciation that reconstruction would have to replace revenge at some point. In the aftermath of the war France naturally tried to benefit from the coal reserves that it felt were of use in the context of a largely destroyed domestic mining industry. The GPRF formally established a ‘Chambre syndicale de la sidérurgie française’ (CSSF) on 26 April 1946 to deal with ‘a transitional period when a shortage of primary materials is still limiting production.’ The last (December 1946–January 1947) Prime Minister of the GPRF, Léon Blum, went to the United States to beg for coal in one of the worst winters of the twentieth century. His approach to ‘l’oncle d’Amérique’ had only limited success.113 Economics was a powerful tool of American attempts to keep both Britain and France in line with its ambitions for Europe throughout this period. The coal of the Ruhr was officially divided up in April 1949 in the ‘London Agreement’, establishing an International Authority for the Ruhr, which was intended to secure the multilateral cooperation of the Benelux countries, France and Germany in the Ruhr. This idea had originated within the Committee of European Economic Cooperation (CEEC) set up in July 1947 to implement the Marshall Plan . This itself developed into the Organisation for European Economic Cooperation in 1948 (and was the forerunner of the Organisation for Economic Coop- eration and Development (OECD).114 The key importance of coal and steel was underlined from the outset. 162 A. J. WILLIAMS

Schuman Plan115 As we have stressed Monnet is seen by many historians as the prime mover of what was to become the ECSC, a view reinforced by Mon- net himself. The United States Government was more than happy to grant him this accolade, imputing it to Monnet’s close relations with High Commissioner for Germany John McCloy.116 As William Hitch- cock has pointed out, Monnet has been accused by Milward of being motivated ‘less from an idealistic faith in European cooperation and more from Monnet’s long-standing desire to gain access to German resources so that France could meet its domestic reconstruction goals.’ Hitchcock puts much more emphasis on the role of the Quai d’Orsay as a prime mover in the process of European integration and therefore obviously of Foreign Minister Schuman himself, though Monnet was always modestly insistent that he was no more important in the process than Schuman.117 The other states involved in the negotiations that led to the Schuman Plan agreed with this assessment. In August 1952 Joseph Beck, the Lux- emburg Foreign Minister, said it was ‘difficult to exaggerate the importance that the [ECSC] could assume in the economic, social and political life of the old continent’. While ‘Europe’s supremacy in the Nineteenth Century had been largely based on its reserves of coal and steel [en houille en fer]’, to the notions of that period of ‘national space and territory the [ECSC] and the [Schuman] Plan [had] substituted the notion of a common economic and political space for all Europeans’ [l’espace économique et celle de la solidarité des intêrets européenes]. This was, said Beck, ‘in the area where [the Plan] concentrated, the solution to the conflict which afflicts Europe, between the historical and economic needs of our industrial civilization’.118 This analysis went beyond the functional aspects of cooperation that both the ECSC and the ‘Plan’ involved. For even more strikingly, Beck claimed that ‘national egoisms were being replaced with an international organisation based on common interest and the collaboration between the partners of the [ECSC]’. This was both ‘above the nation [supérieur àlanation] but in no way diminishing it… for to ensure peace [le salut de la paix] the national had to be guaranteed by the international, but the international had to take precedence to the national [prime le national].’119 Monnet’s speech on the same occasion, again downplaying his role in comparison to Schuman, stressed that for the first time in Euro- pean history they had created an institution which was ‘neither German 4 EUROPE: RECONSTRUCTION AND INTEGRATION, 1945–1952 163 or French, but European.’ ‘National antagonisms’ would be substituted by ‘common interest’. Both sides of the Rhine would have to answer to a common Court (the European Court of Justice, another key element of the Plan), as well as a ‘Council of Ministers’ and a ‘Single Market’.120 Here in embryo was not only the ‘Common Market’ established by the Treaty of Rome in 1957, but also the post-1992 European Union .

Dissension About Europe in the Early 1950s

The response of the European press to the speeches by Beck and Monnet reflected a cautious and understandable optimism, the Belgian La Nation Belge even calling the Plan ‘an act of faith’ to create ‘a still unreal Europe’. The British press predictably wished the new enterprise well. The archives of the High Authority reflect continuous attempts to get the British Government to join the new organisation, to no avail. The reply was always that Britain wished to keep its independence and control over its coal market, though Britain did attend a ‘Joint Committee’ of the ECSC as an observer, from November 1952 on. The American press gushed its approval, with the Baltimore Sun calling it ‘one of the most audacious, imaginative and promising propositions of our century.’ All the American press linked it explicitly to hopes for peace, with New York Times journalist Anne O’Hara McCormick calling Schuman and Monnet ‘revolutionary pacifists’. The French press was very positive, inevitably given the primary French role, though it stressed the outstanding problem of the Sarre.121 This small sliver of territory might easily have become as difficult a problem as the Ruhr had been in 1919. It was a French Protectorate from 1947 to 1957 as part of the French Zone in West Germany, but had a great measure of independence, even qualifying for the Helsinki Olympic Games in 1952 and the FIFA World Cup in 1954. Its status was eventually resolved by a referendum which decided on the territory becoming part of West Germany in early 1957.122 The reason for the relatively harmonious solution of what could have been a real problem was the rapprochement between France and West Germany being promoted by the Schuman Plan, as well as the Paris and London Accords of September–October 1954, which formally recognised West Germany as a state as of May 1955.123 164 A. J. WILLIAMS

The European Defense Community (EDC) There were, however, major failures on a key American aim for Euro- pean integration . For the United States saw its efforts to rebuild France and other European states as intimately linked (like an aimant or lodestone) to its hopes for greater Western defence cooperation, including NATO and what was hoped would become the European Defense Com- munity (EDC). This had its origins in the above-mentioned ‘Pleven Plan’ of October 1950, when Pleven was briefly Prime Minister (he was also Defence Minister on a number of occasions) which accepted a need for some German rearmament for the first time. The road to the EDC was paved with the economic arrangements, such as the Schuman Plan (which Pleven also strongly backed), and it was the intention of both Truman and Eisenhower that the two channels of change should reinforce each other. That aim was not entirely achieved though the idea of a German renaissance had been clearly attained. Though it would not be entirely true to say that without the preceding Schuman Plan and its own precursor Marshall Aid, the rearmament of Germany would not have been possible without the economic groundwork being laid. It was essential to reassure French politicians of all stripes to accept the Pleven Plan’s limited ambitions with the use of economic incentives. Truman was keen for Britain to play a full part in the EDC, telling Churchill and Eden in January 1952, just before he left the White House, that he was ‘particularly anxious’ about this. He saw the initiative as just as important as Marshall Aid in order to encourage ‘integration … both economically and strategically desirable’. But the British had not until that point fully followed the integration script. They had not, as noted, joined the Schuman Plan. Churchill was irritatingly conciliatory to the Soviet Union, and under the Eisenhower Administration that was to become an ever sorer point, with officials like John Foster Dulles mocking ‘The Cigar’ (Churchill) behind his back on a number of occasions, and certainly accusing him in private of living in the past.124 Eisenhower himself put more store in NATO than the EDC, but he proved just as keen as Truman to try and stop it from expiring, mainly to try and ensure more burden sharing in Europe, given the United States’ continuing fear that the Korean peninsula could once again erupt into flames. Both Truman and Eisenhower realised that they could not get the French to commit to a further round of fighting. Dulles admitted in December 1953 at the Bermuda Conference (see Chapter 5, pp. 206–208) with French Foreign 4 EUROPE: RECONSTRUCTION AND INTEGRATION, 1945–1952 165

Minister Bidault present, that ‘[t]hey did not ask for military help from France, who were fully occupied with the war in Indo-China’. They did expect such help from Britain however, to which Eden reluctantly agreed, and Churchill commented was in any case ‘hypothetical’.125 David Bruce, the American Ambassador to Paris in the last years (1949–1952) of the Truman Administration realised that Britain would have to be dragged into the EDC, but he nonetheless urged ‘active Brit [sic] cooperation and support of integration on continent even if they do not (rpt not) wish to join.’126 The EDC turned into a bargaining chip between the three Allies during both the Truman and the Eisenhower Administrations. It also became something of a proxy for the mutual suspicions that subsisted between the three ‘Allies’ in the years before the ﬁnal explosion over the Suez Crisis in 1956. In April 1953 British Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden, always (and rightly) suspicious of American intentions towards the British Empire, had made the trip to Washington with Chancellor of the Exchequer Rab Butler just before a French delegation led by President René Mayer and Foreign Minister Georges Bidault, themselves suspicious (also rightly) of American intentions towards their imperial concerns. The British hope was to persuade the new American Administration to launch a new round of multilateral trade talks; the French hope was to secure American help in Indochina in return for their cooperation over European integration (described in more detail in Chapter 5). But Eden was a lukewarm Euro- peanist and suspicious of American intentions towards Britain’s Empire and he did not want to get too involved in European trade arrangements (again there is an uncanny echo of the Brexit discussions of 2016). He did get American agreement on the trade round, which the French heard (via their Ambassador in Washington Henri Bonnet) the Eisenhower Admin- istration would welcome with ‘pleasure’, something which made them immediately suspicious of both American and British motives.127 It certainly looked as if the Americans were playing the British and the French for their own advantage. In this climate of false bonhomie and mutual distrust the British still needed the Americans much more than they needed the British. For their part Eden and Churchill were keen to remind the Americans that they had stayed ﬁrm supporters of nearly all American policies since 1945, as well as during the war and were now keen to mend bridges with the new Admin- istration. Churchill met with Eisenhower’s newly appointed head of the 166 A. J. WILLIAMS

Atomic Energy Commission, Admiral Lewis Strauss, and Churchill’s influential scientific advisor Viscount Cherwell in April 1953 to try and secure American help with British nuclear technology for civilian and military purposes. Although Churchill acknowledged that Britain and the United States had disagreed on recognition of China in 1949, he still hoped for a much closer cooperation over nuclear issues and asked that nuclear weapons be made available to the R.A.F. Eisenhower edited Dulles’ final record of the meeting that ‘there was no sense of animosity… [though he] urged a closer alignment of UK policy with the U.S.’ Churchill had also suggested that they would probably have to do anything they agreed without the French, who ‘were very weak but we must not allow this to balk our moving ahead’. That applied on the EDC question, ‘or the possibility of bringing Germany into NATO.’ Eisenhower was not convinced of the wisdom of such an extreme course.128 On 12 May 1953 Churchill made a direct request to Eisenhower that ‘a number of A[tomic] weapons be made available to the R.A.F.’ Eisen- hower complied—he expressed the view that ‘Atomic weapons were now coming to be regarded as a proper part of conventional armament and he thought this was a sound concept. Sir Winston concurred.’129 But no such cooperation was forthcoming for France and would not be, one reason for de Gaulle later developing the Force de Frappe, a French nuclear capability not sanctioned by the United States (see Chapter 6, p. 251). It is unsurprising that the French Governments of the 1950s and 1960s were suspicious of British motives in a variety of fields and also that the United States always seemed to back their English-speaking ally when really important decisions were being made. The ultimate French refusal to ratify the EDC can be seen in this light. However in spite of Churchill’s blandishments those concerned with the EDC in the Eisenhower Administration also understood that it needed France for an effective defence against the Soviet Union and that required a softening of French attitudes towards Germany. In the 1950s there were differing views in Washington about how to get around the perceived ‘defeatism’ that seemed to be paralysing the European states. At this important juncture, with a new incumbent in the White House, the French were of the view that there were two camps in Washington, with Truman’s Secretary of State Acheson wanting a ‘defence centred on the British Isles’ and a cross-party caucus in Congress who were waiting on the election of a Republican President in November 1951 (an accurate forecast as it turned out) who would make Germany the new ‘lodestone’ 4 EUROPE: RECONSTRUCTION AND INTEGRATION, 1945–1952 167 of European defence, along with Spain, a ‘continental defence’ policy. It was reported, after discussions with the European Cooperation Admin- istration (ECA) Representative in Rome (set up to implement the ERP) to the Quai that Truman’s officials were certainly sure that France and Italy, in particular, would have to make more effort, whereas the British and Germans were more ‘useful in the fight against the Soviets [efficace dans la lutte contre l’URSS].’ The ECA official used explicitly threatening language—there would be no US support for the major French objective of the Schuman Plan without French ‘softening [assouplissement]’ of its attitude to German rearmament.130 The main opposition to the EDC was to come from one expected and one unexpected source. The expected source was the Soviet Union, which rightly saw the EDC as directed against it. As Stephanie Anderson and David Messenger have written: ‘Truman rejected Soviet leader Joseph Stalin’s March 1952 proposal for talks on Germany due to the belief that the EDC was not worth abandoning for any possible Soviet concessions on Germany.131 Two years later, Eisenhower’s Secretary of State John Foster Dulles even rejected Soviet Foreign Minister Vyacheslav Molotov’s proposal to trade the EDC for peace in Indochina.’132 So Anderson and Messenger argue with J. McAllister that: ‘the creation of the EDC was the “single most important objective of American foreign policy in the early 1950s.”’133 The unexpected source of hostility came from the British. Both Labour and Conservative Governments refused to join the ECSC and the EDC in the 1950s for the same reasons: they were European initiatives, so not to Britain’s taste or, they felt, in its interest. As Piers Ludlow describes it, this was ‘not primarily a result of … inattention on the part of the Labour [or indeed Conservative] Government. Instead it reflected a profound difference in both economic and political circumstances between Britain and the Six as the 1950s began.’ The Six had started to integrate their economies, while Britain had its Commonwealth and American partners, then far more significant than its European neighbours. NATO (1949) provided it with all the security guarantees it needed, and it ‘felt it had no need for European experiments, especially if they involved, as did the Schuman Plan, a sacrifice of sovereignty over two of the most sensitive sectors of the British economy [coal and steel]’.134 Some well-informed Americans seem to have been surprised by this hostility. The incoming President Eisenhower, as noted above, was keener on NATO than on a ‘European army’. The French have always been seen as the main factor 168 A. J. WILLIAMS in scuppering the entire EDC project. It was certainly rejected by the French Assemblée on 30 August 1954 for reasons that included nationalist worries about American interference in Europe, German resurgence and the absence of the UK. But in point of fact this final refusal killed off a project that everyone had got tired of by the time it was terminated.135

Conclusion

The issue of Europe in the relationship between France and the two Anglo-Saxon states is one that has been at the forefront of both the potential benefits and the problems that have confronted all three states since at least the first suggestion, in the dark days of 1940, of a ‘union’ between France and Britain. As the chief liaison officer between French Prime Min- ister Paul Reynaud in May 1940, de Gaulle had agreed that this would be a desperate last resort to try and save France from defeat. That initial idea foundered on the crushing of French military hopes a few days later. From that moment on, and certainly after the war, in the words of the CIA’s ‘Office of Reports and Estimates’ (ORE) in 1948, ‘the primary aim of French policy… has been to prevent a revival of German domination in Europe.’136 By 1954, even if the EDC had been rejected by the French Assemblée, the danger of a Franco-German war had all but dissipated. Another, unexpected, opposition had emerged, one that has been discussed ever since 1950, that between Britain and Europe, a Europe that Britain had been expected by the United States to foster, and to join. So it is both a mark of the success of American policies after 1945 that, in the words of the ORE, ‘supported by US guarantees and including western Germany France did [indeed] modify its policies in Ger- many and continue to cooperate with the US in Europe’.137 But it was simultaneously a kind of failure that by December 1951 former Belgian Socialist Prime Minister, Paul-Henri Spaak, told the Council of Europe (CE), arguably the first proper European institution, that Europe faced a stark and difficult choice: ‘Either we must line up with Great Britain and renounce the attempt to create a united Europe, or we must endeavor to create Europe without Great Britain. For my part, I choose the second alternative, despite the risks and all the dangers involved’.138 This was a terribly difficult thing to utter. He had been a close colleague of the British Labour Party in war and peace, a party that had governed 4 EUROPE: RECONSTRUCTION AND INTEGRATION, 1945–1952 169

Britain from July 1945 to 1951, and in the Labour and Socialist Inter- national. As well as his Presidency of the CE between 1949 and 1951, Spaak served as first President of the ECSC between 1952 and 1954. He was a major player in the setting up of the EEC and also the Second Sec- retary General of NATO between 1957 and 1961, so by no means hostile to Labour’s transatlantic concerns, which he shared. People like him had lived in a London exile, his fellow citizens had benefitted from help from the SOE, admired the social and economic policies of the Beveridge Report and their implementation by Clement Attlee’s Governments. The words he uttered were emotional and perceived as tantamount to treach- ery by many Britons who had fought for Belgian liberation. But the Labour Party, and the Conservative Party that succeeded it in power for the next eleven years until 1964, both shared a belief that transatlantic and Commonwealth relations were the key to British security and economic prosperity. The remarks of David Bruce, American Ambas- sador to Paris in 1951, resonate in Spaak’s remarks. It was not possible to force the ‘Brits’ to join any process of ‘integration’ on the ‘continent’.139 As the Referendum of 2016 may be said to demonstrate ‘Brits’ generally continue to distrust federal ideas and prefer inter-governmental arrangements that allow governments control over the pace of any integration. The anti-Brexit, London School of Economics educated, financier George Soros, a key europhile (and hated by nationalists like Hungarian Premier Victor Orban as a consequence) told the (equally europhile) Financial Times in December 2018 that ‘the EU reminded him in some ways of the last days of the Soviet Union’.140 We can hear the echo of distrust against ‘European experiments’ of another great British East European, Lord Roll. Ironically, de Gaulle had similar feelings for the (then) EEC. His reaction to the EDC in the early 1950s was not dissimilar to that of the British political classes, though for different reasons—the British much preferred the transatlantic certainties of NATO. As will be discussed in Chapter 6, de Gaulle did not trust the Americans to come to the defence of France, or to do so too late as they had in 1917 and 1944. So he developed the French force de frappe, left the command structure of NATO in 1966 and spoke volubly, if vaguely, of a ‘Europe from the Atlantic to the Urals [de l’Atlantique jusqu’à l’Oural]’ He also refused to cooperate with the development of the EEC, with his policy of the ‘Empty Chair’ between 1 July 1965 and 1 January 1966. The proximate cause was the attempt by 170 A. J. WILLIAMS then EEC Commissioner Walter Hallstein to finance the Common Agri- cultural Policy (which had been the main stumbling block to UK entry in 1963) from funds independent of the national governments, thus endow- ing the EEC with independent financial muscle. The final ‘Luxembourg Compromise’ that returned French diplomats to the European Commis- sion was to give every member state a veto over issues that were seen as of vital national importance, and to introduce qualified majority voting for those that were not so deemed. Garrett Martin therefore considers that de Gaulle’s vision of Europe was one that encompassed his demand for a ‘European Europe’, so one without the ‘Anglo-Saxons’, but also one that potentially did include Eastern Europe and Russia.141 It is maybe difficult to disagree with the then Dutch Foreign Minister Joseph Luns who felt that ‘Europe is the means for France to recover what it ceased to be after Waterloo: first in the world’.142

Notes

1. Among other excellent overviews of Anglo-American relations of the period, see Norman Moss, Picking Up the Reins: America, Britain and the Post-War World (London: Duckworth, 2008); Michael F. Hopkins, Oliver Franks and the Truman Administration: Anglo-American Rela- tions, 1948–1952 (London: Cass, 2003); John T. McNay, Acheson and Empire: The British Accent in American Foreign Policy (Columbia, MO: University of Missouri Press, 2001); Marc Trachtenberg, A Constructed Peace: The Making of the European Settlement, 1945–1963 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1999). On Franco-American relations, see Irwin M. Wall, The United States and the Making of Postwar France, 1945–1954 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991); and Frank Costigliola, France and the United States: The Cold War Alliance Since World War II (New York: Twayne Publishers, 1992). 2. Quoted by Sacha Golob, ‘Subjectivity, Reflection and Freedom in Later Foucault’, International Journal of Philosophical Studies, Vol. 23, No. 5, 2015, pp. 666–688. 3. Louis-Ferdinand Céline, Voyage au bout de la nuit (Paris: Editions Denöel, 1932). 4. Ernst Jünger, A German Officer in Occupied Paris: The War Journals, 1941–1945 (New York, NY: Columbia University Press, 2019), entry for Paris, 7 December 1941, pp. 35–36. 5. Jünger, A German Officer in Occupied Paris, entry for Paris, 9 September 1942, p. 93. 4 EUROPE: RECONSTRUCTION AND INTEGRATION, 1945–1952 171

6. The best summary of this can be found in: Or Rosenboim, The Emer- gence of Globalism: Visions of World Order in Britain and the United States, 1939–1950,op.cit. 7. ‘Informal Policy Committee on Germany’, 5 May 1945, ‘Statement of Bernard M. Baruch to the Military Affairs Committee of the United States Senate’, 25 June 1945: ‘Germany: General’, Box 155, Truman Presidential Library, Independence MO (hereafter: Truman Library). A good short overview of Allied thinking about Germany is: Andrew Szanajda, The Allies and the German Problem, 1941–1949: From Cooper- ation to Alternative Settlement (London: Palgrave Pivot, 2015). 8. The Pleven discussions of January 1951 ﬁgure in: ‘Foreign Affairs File: Pleven: Visit to Washington, January 1951’, Box 162, Truman Library. 9. Nicholas White, ‘Reconstructing Europe Through Rejuvenating Empire: The British, French and Dutch Experiences Compared’, in Mazower, Reinisch, and Feldman (eds.), Postwar Reconstruction in Europe: Inter- national Perspectives, op. cit., pp. 211–236. 10. Jackson, A Certain Idea of France, p. 28, taken from Charles de Gaulle, Lettres, notes et carnets 1901–1941 (Paris: Robert Laffont, 2010), p. 45. 11. De Lagarde (New York) to Bonnet (Washington) ‘Une opinion sur la France’, January 1954, Box 349, Dossier Général, AM 1952–1963, Etats-Unis, MAE. 12. De Lagarde (New York) to Juniac (Washington), 7 January 1955, Box 350, Dossier Général, AM 1952–1963, Etats-Unis. 13. Chicago Sun Tribune,reportedtotheQuai’s Direction d’Amérique, 26 and 27 May 1955, Box 350, Dossier Général, AM 1952–1963, Etats- Unis. 14. Michel Winock, La ﬁèvre hexagonale: Les grandes crises politiques, 1871– 1968 (Paris: Seuil, 2009), p. 10. 15. See also Williams, France, Britain and the United States, pp. 12–13. 16. For details on this, see PSF, ORE Files, 1946–1947 and 1948–1949, Boxes 214 and 215, Truman Library. 17. De Juniac (New York) reporting an article by Louis Bley, 13 January 1955, Box 350, Dossier Général, AM 1952–1963, Etats-Unis. 18. Bonnet to Bidault, 5 November 1947 [on the US Navy]; 6 November 1947 [on the US airforce], Box 12, MAE Série Y Affaires Politiques Etats-Unis, 1944–1949: 76CPCOM/12. 19. See, for example, Louis de Guiringaud (San Francisco) to Bonnet (Wash- ington), 23 February and 24 March 1954; Louis Christaens’ [French Secretary of State for Air], visit to US installations, 13–25 April 1954; Jean Daridan (Washington) to Bidault (Paris), 1 April 1954, Dossier Général, AM 1952–1963, Etats-Unis, File 92QO/349. 20. Jean-Claude Demory, Georges Bidault, 1899–1983 (Paris: Julliard, 1995); See also Wieviorka, The French Resistance (Cambridge, MA: Harvard 172 A. J. WILLIAMS

University Press, 2016), pp. 291–292 and 460–461; Jackson, ACertain Idea of France, p. 554. 21. Background Memorandum, March 1951, on the visit by Auriol and Schuman, sent to Truman by W. J. McWilliams, State Department, Box 155, Truman Library. 22. Pleven discussions of January 1951: ‘Foreign Affairs File: Pleven: Visit to Washington, January 1951’, Box 162; and those of Schuman in: ‘Mem- orandum for the President: Negotiations on Germany’, 8 April 1949, ‘Germany: Washington Agreements: Acheson-Bevin-Schuman Meetings’, Box 155, Truman Library. 23. Pleven discussions of January 1951: ‘Foreign Affairs File: Pleven: Visit to Washington, January 1951’, Box 162, Truman Library. 24. Background Memorandum, March 1951, on the visit by Auriol and Schuman, sent to Truman by W. J. McWilliams, pp. viii and 2, State Department, Box 155, Truman Library. 25. John Foster Dulles, ‘Can We Guarantee a Free Europe?’, Collier’s,No. 121, 12 June 1948: Box 14, MAE Série Y Affaires Politiques Etats-Unis, 1944–1949. 26. Alan Dobson, ‘Informally Special? The Churchill-Truman Talks of Jan- uary 1952 and the State of Anglo-American Relations’, Review of Inter- national Studies, Vol. 23, No. 1, 1997, pp. 27–47. 27. For the details of this see Williams, France, Britain and the United States, pp. 242–250; Robert J. Young, An American by Degrees: The Extraor- dinary Lives of Ambassador Jules Jusserand (Montreal and Kingston: McGill–Queens’ University Press, 2009). 28. Stephen E. Ambrose, Eisenhower: Soldier and President (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1990), pp. 12–13. 29. Geir Lundestad, “Empire” by Integration: The United States and Euro- pean Integration, 1945–1997 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998), p. 4. 30. John Lamberton Harper, American Visions of Europe: Franklin D. Roo- sevelt, George F. Kennan and Dean G. Acheson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994). See also Dean Acheson, Present at the Creation: My Years in the State Department (New York: W. W. Norton, 1987); Robert Paul Browder and Thomas G. Smith, Independent: A Biography of Lewis W. Douglas (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1986) [a personal friend of Acheson]. 31. For more on Gavin, see Chapter 6. 32. See Bonnet, ‘Note sur Charles Bohlen’, 14 December 1948, Box 16, and SDECE, ‘Modiﬁcation du role de l’Ambassadeur des U.S.A. en France’, 28 April 1949, Box 17, MAE Série Y Affaires Politiques Etats-Unis, 1944–1948. 4 EUROPE: RECONSTRUCTION AND INTEGRATION, 1945–1952 173

33. ‘Etats-Unis-France-Allemagne Occidentale’, report about State Depart- ment opinion, 18 December 1950; ‘Position du Général Eisenhower’, 9 January 1951; ‘Etats-Unis-Europe Occidentale’, 24 January 1951; File 308, B-Amérique, 1944–1952. See also ‘Memorandum for the Presi- dent’, by Acheson, March 29 1951, as well as a ‘Note for the President’, about President Auriol, 6 March 1947, Box 155, Truman Library. 34. Eric Roll, Crowded Hours (London: Faber and Faber, 1985), p. 60. 35. Roll, Crowded Hours, pp. 37 and 42. 36. Editorials of 19 February 1945, New Republic. 37. The original quote is in General Lord Ismay, The Memoirs of Lord Ismay (London: Kessinger, 2007). 38. Roll, Crowded Hours, p. 83. 39. Henri de Man, Au delà du nationalisme: Vers un gouvernement mondiale (Geneva: Les Editions du Cheval Ailé, 1946). 40. De Man, Au delà du nationalisme, op. cit., pp. 21–22. 41. ‘L’Europe et les Trois Grands, 1941–1945: Aux origines de la ten- sion actuelle’, n.d or author (probably early 1945), ‘Questions Générales de Politique Mondiale, 1945–1949’: MAE, Affaires politiques: Interna- tionale, Série Y, 1944–1949, 76 CT com/2. 42. ‘L’Europe et les Trois Grands, 1941–1945…’, doc. cit. supra. 43. Jean Monnet, Memoires (Paris: Arthème Fayard, 1976), pp. 14–24. 44. Clarence Streit later (in 1958) claimed that it was Monnet who had impressed the idea of a Franco-British Union upon Churchill, but that de Gaulle had been an enthusiastic supporter of the idea at the time: Clarence K. Streit, ‘De Gaulle Urged Federal Union on Churchill in 1940’, Freedom & Union. Vol. 13, Nos. 7–8, July–August, 1958, pp. 14– 16. See also Andrea Bosco, June 1940: Great Britain and the First Attempt to Build a European Union (Cambridge: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2016). 45. Monnet, Mémoires, pp. 14–24. 46. See Robert Marjolin, Travail d’une vie: mémoires 1911–1986 (Paris: Robert Laffont, 2013). 47. Anne Deighton, The Impossible Peace: Britain, the Division of Germany and the Origins of the Cold War (Oxford: Clarendon, 1990), p. 5; Wool- ner, The Last 100 Days: FDR at War and Peace, Chapter 6. 48. R. H. S. Crossman, ‘British War Aims and French Security’, New States- man and Nation, 20 January 1940. 49. Caffery to Secretary of State, 16 August 1945, ‘Telegrams, Paris [France]: Caffery’, Box 165, Truman Library. 50. Georges-Henri Soutou, ‘De Gaulle’s Plans for Postwar Europe’, in Anto- nio Varsori and Elena Calandri (eds.), The Failure of Peace in Europe (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002), pp. 49–58. 174 A. J. WILLIAMS

51. Ian Kershaw, The End: Germany 1944–45 (London: Penguin, 2012); Ian Baruma, Year Zero: A History of 1945 (London: Atlantic Books, 2013); Giles Macdonogh, After the Reich: From the Liberation of Vienna to the Berlin Airlift (London: John Murray, 2008); and Antony Beevor, Berlin: The Downfall 1945 (London: Penguin, 2007). 52. Gide to Blum, 24 August 1945, Blum Papers, 4 BL 1; André Gide, Retour de l’URSS (Paris: Gallimard, 1936). 53. Blum in Le Populaire (London), 19 August 1945, Blum Papers, 4 BL 1, AN. 54. Ibid. 55. Blum radio broadcast (manuscript notes) of 19 October 1945, Blum Papers,4BL1. 56. Laski to Blum, 29 January 1946; notes of 19 October 1945, Blum Papers,4BL1. 57. SFIO ‘Programme d’Action’, 20 August 1944, AGM1, Mollet Papers, OURS. 58. Avenol to Avenol to Blum, 2 December 1945 and 31 June 1946, Blum Papers,4BL1. 59. Grotewohl to Blum, 24 January 1946, Blum Papers, 4 BL 1. Grotewohl had been imprisoned several times by the Nazis in Germany, a factor in Blum’s respect for him, but the Iron Curtain was to make them enemies again shortly after this letter was received. 60. Blum radio broadcast, 4 October 1945, reported in Le Populaire,5 October 1945, Blum Papers, 4 BL 1. 61. Williams, France, Britain and the United States, Chapter 3. 62. Radin to Shotwell, 19 August 1944; Shotwell to Silver (King’s Crown Press), 10 September 1945, CEIP papers, Columbia University Library. 63. Karl Leibknecht, Militarism and Anti-Militarism (Cambridge: Rivers Press, 1973) [ﬁrst published 1907]. 64. Lara Feigel, The Bitter Taste of Victory: Life, Love and Art in the Ruins of the Reich (London: Bloomsbury, 2016); Rainer Hudemann, ‘L’occupation française après 1945 et les relations franco-allemandes’, Vingtième Siècle: Revue d’histoire, No. 55, July–September 1997, pp. 58–68. 65. Denise M. Bostdorff, Proclaiming the Truman Doctrine: The Cold War Call to Arms (College Station, TX: University of Texas Press, 2008). A useful short summary of the Truman Doctrine can be found in Melvyn P. Lefﬂer, ‘Strategy, Diplomacy, and the Cold War: The United States, Turkey, and NATO, 1945–1952’, Journal of American History, Vol. 71, No. 4, 1985, pp. 807–825. 66. Nord, France’s New Deal, p. 153; John Bew, Citizen Clem: A Biography of Attlee (London: Quercus, 2016), pp. 346–351. 67. The literature on the Marshall Plan (the ‘European Recovery Pro- gram’) is vast of course. Good introductions include: Michael J. Hogan, 4 EUROPE: RECONSTRUCTION AND INTEGRATION, 1945–1952 175

The Marshall Plan: America, Britain and the Reconstruction of West- ern Europe, 1947 –1952 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987); David Mayers, America and the Postwar World: Remaking International Society, 1945–1956 (London: Routledge, 2018). For good overviews of Anglo-US relations and the Marshall Plan, see Kathleen Burk, ‘Britain and the Marshall Plan’, in Chris Wrigley (ed.), Warfare, Diplomacy and Politics: Essays in Honour of A.J.P. Taylor (London: Hamish Hamilton, 1986); John Gimbel, The Origins of the Marshall Plan (Stanford: Stan- ford University Press, 1976); and John Lamberton Harper, America and the Reconstruction of Italy, 1945–1948 (Cambridge: Cambridge Univer- sity Press, 1986). 68. Corelli Barnett, The Lost Victory: British Dreams, British Realities, 1945– 1950 (London: Pan, 1996); David Edgerton, The Rise and Fall of the British Nation: A Twentieth-Century History (London: Penguin, 2018). The poll statistics are as reported by Bonnet to Bidault, 28 June 1948, Box 14, MAE, Série Y Internationale, 1944–1949. 69. SDECE Intelligence Report [Bulletin de Renseignements]‘Projetsdu Général Marshall pour la Conférence de Moscou’, 7 March 1947; ‘Prochaine demande du Senateur Bridges’, 31 March 1947; and SDECE, ‘Négociations anglo-américaines au sujet de la Ruhr’, 22 August 1947: Box 308, MAE, B-Amérique 1944–1952. 70. Martin Siegfried, Chief [French] Liaison Ofﬁcer in Berlin, ‘Sur le role du Général Clay à la Conférence de Londres’, 4 November 1947: Box 308, MAE, B-Amérique 1944–1952. 71. Williams, ‘Reconstruction Before the Marshall Plan’, Review of Interna- tional Studies,op.cit. 72. David W. Ellwood, Rebuilding Europe: Western Europe, America and Postwar Reconstruction (London: Longman, 1992), pp. 82–83. Ellwood is quoting Walt Rostow, The Division of Europe After World War II: 1946 (College Station, TX: University of Texas Press, 1981), pp. 73–74. Review by Fritz Stern in Foreign Affairs, Summer 1982. 73. Robert A. Pollard, Economic Security and the Origins of the Cold War, 1945–1950 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1986), Preface. 74. Kindleberger, C. The World in Depression, 1929–39 (London: Penguin, 1987); Patricia Clavin, The Failure of Economic Diplomacy: Britain, France, Germany and the United States, 1931–1936 (London: Macmillan, 1996); and The Great Depression in Europe, 1929–1939,op.cit. 75. Melvyn Lefﬂer, TheStruggleforGermanyandtheOriginsoftheColdWar (Washington, DC: German Historical Institute, 1996), pp. 7–20 and A Preponderance of Power: National Security, the Truman Administration and the Cold War (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1992), also quoting Caroline Kennedy-Pipe, Stalin’s Cold War: Soviet Strategies in Europe, 1943–1956 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1995), 176 A. J. WILLIAMS

p. 192; Norman Naimark, The Russians in Germany: A History of the Soviet Zone of Occupation, 1945–1949 (Cambridge: Cambridge Univer- sity Press, 1995), pp. 24–25. 76. Pollard, Economic Security, pp. 3–4; Joyce and Gabriel Kolko, The Limits of Power: The World and United States Foreign Policy, 1945–1954 (New York: Harper and Row, 1972). See also C. S. Maier, ‘Revisionism and the Interpretation of Cold War Origins’, in C. S. Maier (ed.), The Origins of the Cold War and Contemporary Europe (New York: New Viewpoints, 1978); and Robert J. Maddox, ‘The Rise and Fall of Cold War Revision- ism’, The Historian, Vol. 46, No. 3, May 1984, pp. 416–428. 77. Maria Hohn, GIs and Fräuleins: The German-American Encounter in 1950s West Germany (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Car- olina Press, 2002); Anselm Doering-Manteuffel, Katholizismus und Wiederbewaffnung: Die Haltung der deutschen Katholiken gegenüber der Wehrfrage 1948–1955 (Mainz: Matthias-Grünewald-Verlag, 1981), Pref- ace. 78. For one of many sites where the full text of the Zurich Speech of 19 September 1946 can be seen, see Winston Churchill, http://www. churchill-society-london.org.uk/astonish.html. 79. Record of a Meeting on 13 August between Mr. Bevin and Foreign Office Officials, Documents on British Policy Overseas (hereafter DBPO), Series I, Vol. 5, London, HMSO, 1990, pp. 15–17. On Bevin himself, see Alan Bullock, Ernest Bevin: Foreign Secretary (Oxford: Oxford Uni- versity Press, 1985). 80. Anne Deighton, ‘Entente Neo-Coloniale? Ernest Bevin and the Propos- als for an Anglo-French Third World Power, 1945–1949’, Diplomacy and Statecraft, Vol. 17, No. 4, 2006, pp. 835–852, here p. 837; Clement Attlee, speech in Aberdeen, 6 September 1942, and ‘Labour and the War (1942)’, Box 6; Attlee to C.R. Shepherd (national Agent of the Labour Party), 10 March 1943, ATLE/Box 7: Attlee Papers, Bodleian Library, Oxford. 81. Crossman, ‘British War Aims and French Security’, New Statesman and Nation, 20 January 1940, annotated by Philip Noel-Baker, NBKR 4/225, Churchill College Cambridge. 82. Frank O’Gorman, ‘introduction’ to special section entitled ‘Britain and Europe’; Patrick Salmon, ‘Reluctant Engagement: Britain and Conti- nental Europe, 1890–1939’, Diplomacy and Statecraft, Vol. 8, No. 3, November 1997, pp. 1–10 and 139–164. 83. Patricia Clavin, ‘Reparations in the Long Run’, Diplomacy and Statecraft, Vol. 16, No. 3, September 2005, pp. 515–530. 4 EUROPE: RECONSTRUCTION AND INTEGRATION, 1945–1952 177

84. Elspeth O’Riordan, ‘Rethinking Britain’s Foreign Policy and the Occu- pation Zone in Germany 1945–1947: Questions of Structural and Func- tional Continuity in British Foreign Policy-Making’, International His- tory Review, Vol. 39, No. 5, 2017, pp. 885–902. 85. F.R.U.S., 1945–1947, Vol. IV (1947) (Washington, DC: U.S. Govern- ment, 1968). 86. ‘Problème de l’Armement de l’Europe Occidentale’, 13 May 1948; ‘Mis- sion Spéciale de Maynard Barnes en Europe’, 3 November 1948; ‘Anal- ysis for the Président du Conseil by the SDECE’, 20 December 1949; Bonnet (Washington) to MAE, 14 May 1950: D-Amérique 1944–1952, 9QO/308; and Michael M. Boll, Cold War in the Balkans: American Foreign Policy and the Emergence of Communist Bulgaria, 1943–1947 (Lexington, KE: University of Kentucky Press, 1984), p. 114. 87. Couve de Murville, ‘La politique américaine en Extrême-Orient’, 9 February 1949; Bonnet to Bidault, 18 February 1949. Both Box 17, MAE Série Y Affaires Politiques Etats-Unis, 1944–1952. 88. Stefan Zweig, Le monde d’hier (Paris: Le Livre de Poche, 1993). 89. Herbert Obinger and Carina Schmitt, ‘The Impact of the Second World War on Postwar Social Spending’, European Journal of Political Research, Vol. 57, No. 2, May 2018, pp. 496–517. This statistical analysis found that ‘the war strongly affected social spending until the late 1960s’, p. 496. 90. A. J. R. Groom and Paul Taylor, Functionalism: Theory and Practice in International Relations (London: Hodder Arnold, 1975); Cornelia Navari, ‘David Mitrany and International Functionalism’, in David Long and Peter Wilson (eds.), Thinkers of the Twenty Years’ Crisis. Inter-War Idealism Reassessed (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1995); Lucian Ashworth, Creating International Studies: Angell, Mitrany and the Liberal Tra- dition (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1999); and Jens Steffek, ‘The Cosmopoli- tanism of David Mitrany: Equality, Devolution and Functional Democ- racy Beyond the State’, International Relations, Vol. 29, No. 1, 2015, pp. 23–44. 91. Jan Klabbers, ‘Review of Mazower, No Enchanted Palace’, European Journal of International Law, Vol. 21, No. 3, August 2010 (online, https://academic.oup.com/ejil/article/21/3/789/508663/Mark- Mazower-No-Enchanted-Palace-The-End-of-Empire (accessed 24 May 2017). 92. Rosenboim, The Emergence of Globalism, Chapter 2: ‘Reimagining the State in a Global Space’, especially pp. 25–28. On Aron (in English) see Olivier Schmitt (ed.), Raymond Aron and International Relations (Abingdon: Routledge, 2018). 93. David, Mitrany, ‘The Prospect of Integration: Federation or Functional?’, Journal of Common Market Studies, June 1965, pp. 119–149. 178 A. J. WILLIAMS

94. Cole was the hugely influential prime mover behind the intellectual renewal of the Labour Party in the early 1930s, and author of G. D. H. Cole, The Principles of Economic Planning (London: Macmillan, 1935). Woolf was a key member and theorist of the Labour Party’s International Committee (ACIQ) and author of: Leonard Woolf, International Gov- ernment (London: Hogarth Press, 1916). On Woolf, see Peter Wilson, The International Theory of Leonard Woolf: A Study in Twentieth Century Idealism (London: Palgrave, 2002). On Cole see Andrew J. Williams, Labour and Russia: The Attitude of the Labour Party to the USSR, 1924– 1934 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1989), pp. 154–156; Lucian Ashworth, International Relations and the Labour Party: Intel- lectuals and Policy Making from 1918–1945 (London: I.B. Tauris, 2007). On Attlee and Cole, see John Bew, Citizen Clem: A Biography of Attlee (London: Quercus, 2016), p. 230. 95. Some of his wartime writings have been assembled in: Raymond Aron, Croire en la démocratie (Paris: Pluriel, 2017). See also Raymond Aron, France and Europe (Hinsdale, IL: Henry Regnery, 1949). 96. Rosenboim, The Emergence of Globalism, pp. 38–42. 97. Clarence Streit, Union Now: A Proposal for a Federal Union of the Democ- racies of the North Atlantic (London: Cape, 1939). 98. Spectator, 28 June 1940, p. 12. 99. Derek Heater, World Citizenship: Cosmopolitan Thinking and Its Oppo- nents (London: Continuum, 2002); de Man, Au delà du nationalisme, pp. 194–195 and especially Chapter 5: ‘Le Plan économique et sociale: difficultés d’une économie dirigée’. 100. Barbara Ward, ‘Limits of Economic Planning’, Foreign Affairs, Vol. 27, No. 2, January 1949, pp. 246–262 and The West at Bay (New York, NY: W. W. Norton, 1948); Cole, The Principles of Economic Planning, op. cit. 101. De Man, Au delà du nationalisme, pp. 225–234. 102. Nord, France’s New Deal: From the Thirties to the Postwar Era, op. cit., for example pp. 167–172. 103. An excellent over view of the evolution of the British Welfare State can be found in: Andrew Land, Rodney Lowe, and Noel Whiteside, The Development of the Welfare State, 1939–1951: A Guide to Documents in the Public Record Office (London: HMSO, 1992). 104. Crémieux (‘Brilhac’) to Mayer (‘Villiers’), 27 March 1944, AGM1, Mol- let Papers, OURS, Paris. Crémieux was in charge of propaganda at the Free French Commissariat de l’Intérieur in London from 1942 to August 1944, and later founder of the Documentation Française. 105. Pierre Bauchet, La Planification Française: quinze ans d’expérience (Paris: Seuil, 1962), pp. 13–15. 4 EUROPE: RECONSTRUCTION AND INTEGRATION, 1945–1952 179

106. ORE (CIA) ‘Postwar Industrial Recovery in France’, ORE 53-48, 2 August 1948; ‘Opposition to ECA in Participating Countries’, ORE 68- 48, 10 February 1949; ‘French Labor Unrest in 1950 and Its Implica- tions for the Attainments of US Objectives in Western Europe’, ORE 100-49, 10 April 1950 PSF CIA, Box 215/6, Truman Library. 107. Ellwood, Rebuilding Europe, p. 168. He is quoting Monnet, Memoirs (New York: HarperCollins, 1978), pp. 289–292. 108. Nord, France’s New Deal, pp. 1–12. 109. William I. Hitchcock, ‘France, the Western Alliance and the Origins of the Schuman Plan, 1948–1950’, Diplomatic History, Vol. 24, No. 4, Fall 1997, pp. 603–630. 110. O’Riordan, ‘Rethinking Britain’s Foreign Policy…’, pp. 888–889. She is quoting a record of a discussion between Bevin and Bidault, 18 February 1946, FO371 55400, C2188/14/18, of 21 February 1946. 111. Dirk Spierenburg and Raymond Poidevin, Histoire de la Haute Autorité de la Communauté Européene du Charbon et de l’Acier (Bruxelles: Bruy- lant, 1999). 112. FRUS, Conference at Quebec, 1944 (Washington, DC: USGPO, 1972). 113. Blum Papers, quoted in Andrew J. Williams, ‘France and the New World Order, 1940–1947’, Modern and Contemporary France, Vol. 8, No. 2, May 2000, pp. 191–202. 114. The detailed unfolding of this process can be found in the Euro- pean Coal and Steel High Authority: Commission Européen Secretariat Générale, Haute Autorité CECA: Inventaire des Dossiers, 1952–1967,3 Vols. (Luxemburg: Office des Publications Officielles des Communuatés européenes, 1996). 115. See Hitchcock, ‘France, the Western Alliance and the Origins of the Schuman Plan’, op. cit. See also Milward, The Reconstruction of Western Europe, op. cit., Chapter XII. 116. Hopkins to Connally (on behalf of Acting Secretary of State Webb); Acheson to Truman, n.d. 1950, ‘Confidential File, 1950, 1951’, Box 41, Truman Library. 117. Hitchcock, ‘France, the Western Alliance and the Origins of the Schuman Plan’, op. cit., pp. 604–605. 118. Beck speech of 10 August 1952, Archives of the ECSC: P.V.H.A. CECA, First Meeting of the HECA, Box 1, 11.8.52-2.5.53, Brussels, Belgium. 119. Beck speech of 10 August 1952, doc. cit. supra. 120. Monnet, speech of 10 August 1952, Archives of the ECSC: P.V.H.A. CECA, First Meeting of the HECA, Box 1. 121. Ibid., 4th, 10th and 23rd Meetings of the HECA, 25 August, 17 September and 4 November 1952: Archives of the ECSC: P.V.H.A. CECA, Box 1. 180 A. J. WILLIAMS

122. A good account of the Sarre problem can be found in Jacques Freymond and Marlis Steinert, Le Conflit sarrois, 1945–1955 (Brussels: Institut de Sociologie Solvay, 1959). 123. Desmond Dinan, Europe Recast: A History of European Union (Lon- don: Palgrave Macmillan, 2004); Mark Gilbert, European Integration: A Concise History (London: Rowman & Littlefield, 2011). 124. For example: 14 July and 7 September 1954, Box 11, Dulles Subject Files, Eisenhower Library. 125. Dobson, ‘Informally special?…’, pp. 34–36; ‘Memorandum of Restricted Meeting of Chiefs of Delegations’, Bermuda, 7 December 1953: Dulles Papers, Subject Files, ‘Bermuda Conference: Foreign Ministers’ Meet- ing’, Box 1, Eisenhower Library. 126. Bruce (Paris) to Acheson, 25 August 1951, PSF, ‘France – General’, Box 155, Truman Library. 127. ‘Voyage de Bidault et Mayer aux Etats-Unis’, 25–27 March 1953, Vol. 348, MAE, 1952–1963. 128. John Foster Dulles, ‘Informal discussions with Churchill at Cherwell, with Admiral Strauss’, 12 April 1953: Dulles Papers, Subject Files, ‘Bermuda Conference: Foreign Ministers’ Meeting’, Box 1, Eisenhower Library. 129. Dulles, ‘Informal discussions with Churchill at Cherwell…’, doc. cit. supra. 130. ‘La Défense de L’Europe’, 15 August 1950 and ‘Opinion d’un fonc- tionnaire Américain sur l’attitude des Etats-Unis vis à vis de l’Europe’: MAE, B-Amérique 1944–1952, 9QO/308. 131. Stephanie Anderson and David Messenger, ‘(Re)Constructing Transat- lantic Security Policy: The Bermuda Conference of 1953 and Efforts to Revive the European Defence Community’ p. 1, unpublished manuscript. 132. Dulles to State Department, 1 February 1954, Dulles-Herter Series, Box 2, file: Dulles, February 1954 (1), Eisenhower Library. 133. J. McAllister, No Exit: America and the German Problem, 1943–1954 (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2002), p. 171; Kevin Ruane, The Rise and Fall of the European Defence Community: Anglo-American Relations and the Crisis of European Defence, 1950–1955 (London: Pal- grave, 2000). My thanks to Stephanie Anderson for helping me understand the EDC better. 134. Piers Ludlow, Dealing with Britain: The Six and the First UK Application to the EEC (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), pp. 16–17. 135. Kevin Ruane, The Rise and Fall of the European Defence Community: Anglo-American Relations and the Crisis of European Defence, 1950– 1955,op.cit. 4 EUROPE: RECONSTRUCTION AND INTEGRATION, 1945–1952 181

136. ORE (CIA), ‘France’s German Policy’, 29 December 1948, ORE 39- 48, PSF CIA Box 215, Truman Library. The ORE was absorbed into the CIA in late 1947 and abolished in November 1950). 137. ORE (CIA), ‘France’s German Policy’, 29 December 1948, doc. cit. supra. 138. Spaak’s resignation speech to the Council of Europe, December 1951. Quoted by Ludlow, Dealing with Britain, pp. 17–18. 139. Ellwood, Rebuilding Europe, p. 168. 140. ‘FT Person of the Year, George Soros’, interviewed by Roula Kha- laf, Financial Times, 19 December 2018, https://www.ft.com/soros (accessed 2 August 2019). 141. Garrett Martin, ‘Towards a New Concert of Europe: De Gaulle’s Vision of a Post-Cold War Europe’, in Frédéric Bozo, Marie-Pierre Rey, N. Piers Ludlow, and Bernd Rother (eds.), Visions of the End of the Cold War in Europe, 1945–1990 (Oxford: Berghahn, 2012), pp. 91–118. 142. Jeffrey Vanke, ‘An Impossible Union: Dutch Objections to the Fouchet Plan, 1959–62’, Cold War History, Vol. 2, No. 1, October 2001, pp. 95– 113. CHAPTER 5

Unreliable Allies: Empire, 1952–1958

Introduction

This chapter will look at the evolution of one of the most important elements in the relationship between France, Britain and the United States over the period covered by the book, that of Empire. As we discussed in the previous chapter, Europe continued to infuse the discussion on empire as empire had on Europe. The dates covered in this chapter again corre- spond roughly speaking to the end of the Truman presidency and that of Eisenhower until de Gaulle’s resumption of power in May 1958, covering the period of the Fourth Republic until 1957. De Gaulle’s resumption of the French Presidency and how that affected Franco-American relations at the end of the Eisenhower President and into the ﬁrst year of Kennedy’s is examined in Chapter 6. De Gaulle was acclaimed as President with an explicit mandate to resolve the Algerian War of Independence (1954– 1962), though a fuller treatment of that War would have to be for another volume. Here its initial development until 1957 is examined. For a chapter, indeed a book, like this has to have its limits. The subject of the withdrawal from empire and its consequences is a huge one. There is a copious literature on the British withdrawal from Empire.1 There is an even more substantial literature on the American involvement in the conﬂict in South-East Asia, one that culminates in the Vietnam War of 1963–1975.2 The ending of the French Empire is of course part of that

© The Author(s) 2020 183 A. J. Williams, France, Britain and the United States in the Twentieth Century: Volume 2, 1940–1961, Studies in Diplomacy and International Relations, https://doi.org/10.1057/978-1-137-41444-1_5 184 A. J. WILLIAMS story. As Anne Deighton has written, the two empires ‘were won in different ways; conceptualized and run in different ways; and their endings were differently managed’.3 But there is not space to cover both processes in the same amount of detail. In addition the focus of this chapter could not fully cover the way that France progressively re-thought its relationship with its colonies after the Second World War, moving from what might be called a ‘Brazzaville’ paradigm, where France based its resistance to Nazi tyranny explicitly in its Empire (as described in Chapter 2), to one which we can begin to call tiermondiste, an appreciation by the end of de Gaulle’s incumbency as President in 1969 that the relationship between ‘North’ and ‘South’ had undergone a permanent change that would require a very different kind of politics. Showing the origins of all these themes in the 1940s and 1950s is therefore the main focus of the chapter. It will further be suggested that the issue of empire was, along with those of order and the future of Europe, a determinate element in the evolving relationship between the three polities. To illustrate this there will be a particular focus on a series of major issues within the broad area of empire and within the three countries involved. It would be impossible to do justice to all the areas of the world where decolonisation took place and where frictions between the three erupted. The argument about imperial issues within France (as well as within Britain and the United States) took on a particular acuity in the years covered here. In terms of particular geographical areas we will concentrate mainly on North Africa, and especially the period of the Algerian Civil War between 1954 and 1957, as well as the Suez Crisis of 1956. Some less detailed reference will be made to Indo-China, and to British decolonisation , largely by way of comparison with the French process. To do this the key sources used will be, in France, those of the Quai d’Orsay, but also those of the French Socialist Party (SFIO) which was to play a key role in the Suez crisis of 1956 (the Premier of that year was SFIO leader Guy Mollet). The Amer- ican focus will primarily be on the American Presidents and their advisors of the period, notably Truman and Eisenhower. There are of course continuities, across issue areas, that link the French experiences during this period with the broader questions of French history and reflections on that by key thinkers and political figures. No issue had greater impact on these debates than the withdrawal from empire, creating some famous divisions between figures with previously agreed positions, as with the falling out between former intellectual résistants 5 UNRELIABLE ALLIES: EMPIRE, 1952–1958 185

Jean-Paul Sartre and Albert Camus and their successors like Frantz Fanon. The rise of Romain Gary as a key French novelist of the 1950s was in part due to growing disquiet with the rising tide of intolerance in the United States (where Gary was French Consular ofﬁcial in Los Angeles for most of the 1950s) and with the consequences of colonial and post- colonial exploitation of the former French Empire.4 French intellectual and political life of this period is in many ways a sounding board for the consequences of the move from a global order underpinned by imperial states, of which Britain and France were the most important, to the post- imperial domination of the United States, which also implied its rivalry with the Soviet Union. The Cold War had a far greater impact on the former colonies than it did on the countries that had been colonisers and the resultant violence was multi-facetted, against people and the environ- ment as well as frustrating the potential for peaceful political change that many had hoped for in 1945.

British, French and American Views of Empire

British thinking about empire had started moving away from the unal- loyed support that it had enjoyed before 1945, but the empire was still popular even on the left, and the Suez Crisis of 1956 was to show that the spirit of imperial hubris was not entirely absent from a much wider population.5 Britain had a long tradition, by no means confined to the left of the political spectrum, of colonisation as the precursor to full independence within a Commonwealth of nations, in which Britain would be a primus inter pares. The British elites had accepted that the days of a London-dominant Raj were probably numbered. Partly that feeling, epitomised by the thinking of the highly influential ‘Round Table’ group (see below) had been given renewed impetus by the geopolitical realities of the First World War, when the Dominions of Australia, Canada, New Zealand and South Africa had seized a place at the highest councils of state in return for their support for the Mother Country.6 The Second World War served to underline these dilemmas. This had been supplemented by the necessary promise of the granting of future independence to India, the Jewel in the Crown, in return for help in defeating the Japanese in the Pacific area. Before the United States had got involved in any really difficult post-colonial situations its official view was that Communism fed on imperial policies, much as Roosevelt had told his son Eliott. Japanese aggression had fed on them and created the 186 A. J. WILLIAMS conditions for a Pacific War: ‘[d]on’t think for a moment, Eliott, that Americans would be dying in the Pacific tonight, if it hadn’t been for the shortsighted greed of the French and the British and the Dutch. Shall we let them do it all over again [after the war]?’7 But they had yet to come to grips with the problem of who was going to bring peace to decolonized areas if the British and French were absent. If not the British and French, and if the United States felt colonies were beneath its dignity, then who could keep the peace?8 Neither the British nor French Empires vanished into thin air during or in the aftermath of the Second World War. Relationships which had been in some cases hundreds of years in the making do not just disappear. The elites that had nurtured the British Empire though its last great challenge before and during the First World War were still active in the Second. One illustration of this was the longevity of the people who had ‘reconstructed’ (their word) South Africa after the Boer War of 1899–1902 and still held positions of power. Most notable was General Jan Smuts, Commander in Chief of Boer forces, who was by the 1940s a British Field Marshall and Prime Minister of South Africa, and a revered and fervent supporter of the British Empire. Those in the British hierarchy who had helped in the aftermath of the Boer War, like Lionel Curtis and Philip Kerr, made up the group known at the time as the ‘Kindergarten’, and were also founders and prominent members of the most influential ‘think-tank’ of the Empire, and its eponymously named journal The Round Table ,a publication practically on a par with The Times as the Imperial journal of record. In the words of Daniel Gorman, Curtis had elevated ‘imperialism to a secular religion’ and ‘shared his contemporaries’ unshakable belief in the supremacy of British political culture.’ He even believed, and that during the Boer War in 1900, that ‘the Boer like the Englishman is not a model of all the virtues but neither is he beyond other races a villain’, a back-handed but genuine cultural compliment which matches de Gaulle’s ‘hommage’ to his German adversaries in his book of 1924 La discorde chez l’ennemi.9 Such thinking before 1914 was widespread across social classes and fed by what the great Liberal politician James Bryce called ‘an intensification of nationalistic pride and national vanity’.10 Bryce, himself an ‘imperial sceptic’, was driven to it, as were many others, by observing the horrors of the Boer War, which split British Liberalism asunder. The most celebrated and long-lasting of this movement’s effects was the publication of 5 UNRELIABLE ALLIES: EMPIRE, 1952–1958 187

J. A. Hobson’s Imperialism: A Study, of 1902. Gregory Claeys nonetheless doubts that it had much contemporary effect, quoting A. J. P. Taylor’s view that Imperialism was a ‘rather crude attempt to expose the financial basis of imperialism’ and suggesting that his influence was not as great as is often assumed: ‘was he greatly influential, or little read at all… Was he a leading anti-imperialist, or indeed not much of an opponent of empire as such?’11 The Round Tablers influence cannot be doubted. Philip Kerr, as Lord Lothian, was British Ambassador to Washington in 1940 and is often cited as the main go-between for Roosevelt and Churchill in the creation of what is still known as the ‘Special Relationship’. Another close associate of Kerr, John Buchan, the popular British author of swashbuckling tales such as The Thirty-Nine Steps (1915) and Greenmantle (1916) was by 1935, as Lord Tweedsmuir, High Commissioner in Canada. But both Lothian and Tweedsmuir died at their post in 1940, an omen of the changes to come. Even the ‘white’ Empire was losing faith in the idea of Imperial citizenship, and even more in the nineteenth century ideal of a ‘Greater Britain’.12 L. J. Butler comments that by the 1940s ‘[t]he traditions of anti-British sentiment among the Afrikaner community resurfaced’, those who believed in the ‘continuation of imperial bonds became over-reliant on … Smuts’.13 One other major problem was that the ‘Greater Britain’ had been supposed to provide a shelter and guarantee of world order for the Imperial Dominions. When this was severely tested and found wanting in the onslaught of the Japanese Empire in the Far East, the Australian and New Zealand Governments were forced to turn to the United States for protection after the humiliating and rapid loss of ‘impregnable’ Sin- gapore and the subsequent invasion of Papua New Guinea. The sacrifices made by Australian troops, virtually unaided by the ‘Mother Country’ are still celebrated in Australia as a pivotal moment in the creation of a national identity distinct from both Britain and the Empire. In Britain itself during and after the war, the symbolic and intellectual role of Buchan, Curtis, and Kerr in British foreign policy had been immense but their successors in positions of high office like Malcolm Macdonald (son of disgraced Labour and then National Government Prime Minister James Ramsay Macdonald) were drawing on an increasingly more radical view of Empire. President Truman was told by his close friend and Vatican Ambassador, Myron C. Taylor, that Ramsay Macdon- ald had felt that Roosevelt had ‘ruined’ and ‘left him in a hopeless position’ after the latter had ‘reversed himself’ [on trade and currency issues] 188 A. J. WILLIAMS at the 1933 Economic Conference. ‘That was the end of [his] public career. Within a short time after he passed away.’14 Roosevelt had also highlighted an area of global politics where Britain and France were largely agreed in their dislike of American interference. There was even a brief attempt after 1945 to establish what Deighton calls an ‘entente neo-coloniale’, as part of Labour Foreign Secretary Ernest Bev- in’s attempt to maintain Britain, in partnership with France, as a ‘Third World Power’, outlined in the previous chapter (p. 150). Deighton shows that Bevin’s aim was not ‘neo-colonial’ in the sense of wanting to maintain the old Empire, but rather to try and continue the trade and other economic links that existed between Commonwealth countries in a Fed- eral arrangement.15 Bevin claimed that ‘the aim [was] to raise the standard of life and not for aggression’. He wanted to maintain as much of the British (and French) empires as possible in a structure that had been referred to before 1939 as ‘Eurafrique’, as advocated by the Front Popu- laire of Léon Blum. The high point of this strategy was the signature of the ‘Treaty of Dunkirk’ between Britain and France, signed on 4 March 1947. The stated intention was to protect both countries against a resurgent Germany but it was also to try to bolster the American ambitions for the Marshall Plan of the same year.16 Bevin hoped such a scheme would bolster France, which he rightly saw was being buffeted by violent nationalist movements. He summed up his dream ‘that we might yet change the name of the British Common- wealth to one of European Commonwealth, and open up avenues without destroying political institutions at all’. But as colonies became progressively more and more independent it became clear that they had no wish to be part of any ‘neo-colonial’ institution. The French ‘Union’and the British ‘Commonwealth’ were to continue their own separate paths, and by 1948 Bevin’s dream had been dropped. The main reasons were the far greater power of the American-inspired global order discussed in Chapter 3, based as it was on the equality of all states within the UN and institutions like the IMF and the World Bank, embryonic as they were in 1948. Moreover France and Britain were incapable of underpinning Bev- in’s dream, such was their weakened state in the 1940s. In addition they had major differences over such questions as the Levant (where British support for Lebanese and Syrian independence still rankled in France), and over the implementation of the Marshall Plan and European integration as we saw in Chapter 4.17 5 UNRELIABLE ALLIES: EMPIRE, 1952–1958 189

Marshall could see the danger of any Franco-British rapprochement for his own plans for Europe and beyond. In a meeting with French Presi- dent Auriol in the same month of the Dunkirk Treaty’s signature (March 1947) Auriol had told Marshall that ‘our reconstruction and our security’ were France’s principal concerns. He added, and Marshall agreed, that French and German reconstruction were intimately linked. But Marshall wanted to move beyond the existing bilateral parameters of the Dunkirk Treaty, between Britain and France, to ‘replicate’ Dunkirk, but with a ‘wider security’, code for including Germany. This conversation was in effect coded to stop all talk of Bevin’s ‘entente neo-coloniale’.18 Its ghost can be said to linger in the institutions of the Commonwealth and the French Francophonie, though on a far more modest scale than that envisaged by Bevin. What was ensured by the United States’ increasingly hegemonic dominance of the debate has come to resemble something closer to an ‘Anglosphere’, notwithstanding the imperial nostalgia of some in Britain and elsewhere.19 France’s exhaustion in 1945 was obvious, Britain’s less, but the problems emerged early in the war. It is from American sources that this is most evident. A document from 1941, when Britain was far less stretched than it became after Rommel’s triumphant advance to Al Alamein in 1941–1942, sufﬁces to exemplify the problems Britain faced. The ﬁrst state to have been ‘overrun by the three Axis Powers since 1931 to regain its independence’ was Ethiopia, on 5 May 1941.20 The decisive battle to take the former Italian colony of Eritrea at Keren in February–March 1941, was mainly won by British imperial troops (especially Indian), as the local Commonwealth War Cemetery attests (the Italian equivalent has far more graves of Askari incogniti – unknown local troops – than Italians). Ethiopia was not a typical colonial issue in that it had been an independent state before Italian conquest in 1936, though there were those who saw Ethiopia as a ‘colonial area’ and that ‘the Ethiopian Empire as a political monstrosity without any moral raison d’être’. The popularity of these words by British novelist Evelyn Waugh in his semi-satirical account of the coronation of Haile Selassie in 1930, is clear from the continuing sales of his autobiographical volume When the Going Was Good, and his openly satirical novel Black Mischief of 1932.21 But such, in our eyes, archaic colonialist attitudes had to face up to an unfortunate truth. Sneha Reddy has recently emphasised the precar- ious reliance of the British state on Indian colonial troops in defending large swathes of the Empire from 1919 on. The same was true of the 190 A. J. WILLIAMS

French relying on North African Spahis (‘native’ troops) in North Africa, and later in Lebanon and Syria. In the assault on Palestine led by General Allenby in 1918, a bare one of the eleven divisions deployed was really British, the rest were either from the Dominions, or from North Africa (including Algerians), or from the Indian Sub-Continent. After 1919 such ratios became routine as Britain accumulated ever more vast and problematic territory in Transjordan, Palestine, Iraq and so on. Robert Johnson and James Kitchen show that the British Empire bit off far more than it could chew as nationalisms in the Middle East were exacerbated by heavy-handed imperial occupation, to which we can add local conflicts with the French.22 Palestine was later to provide for some of the most delicate moments for Anglo-American relations after 1945, with an American diplomatic despatch of 1950 talking of ‘our prolonged differences over Palestine impos[ing] a most serious strain on our relations, especially in 1947–48.’ It might be noted that before the partition of Palestine took place in 1947 the CIA’s ORE was predicting that the Arabs would win.23 American academics had been asked for their opinion about the future of British imperialism as early as 1943 as part of the PWP process. One example of their thinking is to be found in the replies submitted to the ‘Universities Committee on Post-War International Problems’ convened by the ‘Commission to Study the Organization of the Peace’ on ‘Colo- nial and Dependent Areas’ in 1943. This Committee was headed by John Foster Dulles, who we will see was to play a determinate role in crushing British imperial ambitions (see below, pp. 211–216). The 1943 Commit- tee was made up of representatives of the entire American Ivy League and well beyond, and agreed ‘that this program should place a definite obligation on suzerain states to prepare their dependencies for full and equal membership in the community of nations’. Thus far the Committee was not far from agreeing with the broad thrust of many British pressure groups who agreed with the idea of empire being the ante-chamber of independence. This was not at all in line with most opinion in France which usually saw its colonies as integral parts of the Métropole, as was especially the case for Algeria (see below, pp. 191–198). The American academics all hoped for ‘some sort of an International Colonial Commission’. But beyond that the Committee had no clear joint views on whether imperialism would get more embedded, and there was 5 UNRELIABLE ALLIES: EMPIRE, 1952–1958 191 widespread disagreement about the pace of accession to ‘equal membership’, suggesting a ‘“realistic”’ mixed system for both previously Axis- controlled colonies as well as those of the ‘British and Dutch – and perhaps the French’. A model they termed ‘international trusteeship … [or] (junior) partnership’ was to see the light of day in the Trusteeship Coun- cil of the UN in 1945. Where there was clear disagreement was about the moral case for colonialism itself, for there are ‘certain evils almost always associated with the status of subordinate dependency’ notably economic dependency and the deprivation of equal political rights. But in a significant caveat, they ‘recognise also… the evils of “Balkanization”, the economic-political evils of a host of small states.’ This it was hoped could be dealt with within the framework of regional or international organisations, again ‘some sort of International Colonial Commission.’24 The problems outlined by the Universities Committee describe quite a few of the dilemmas that the United States was to face once its wish for decolonisation really got under way in the 1950s and 1960s. Dean Acheson’s phrase, that Britain had ‘lost an empire but not yet found a role’ has become enshrined in political folklore and thus needs further analysis.25 It has of course been argued that Britain did indeed find a role within NATO, as a nuclear power, as a member of the Secu- rity Council of the United Nations, and even within the EEC in the 1970s.26 It was also widely believed, even in the Quai d’Orsay, that the United States was trying to actively reduce British influence not only in its colonies but also more widely, partly through its control over British spending patterns due to the power of the US dollar. In March 1950, just after the narrow victory of Clement Attlee’s second Labour Government, the Economic Cooperation Administration (ECA, the ERP’s executive branch) was described as urging Attlee not to nationalise cement, insurance, sugar refining and steel. Such actions had been a constant thorn in Anglo-American relations, and inspired some sympathy in Paris, given that the Americans had expressed similar distaste for the Monnet Plan (which we have seen drew heavily on British wartime inspiration). The Americans were hoping that the ‘moderating effect’ of Attlee’s five seat victory (he was to lose power to Churchill in October 1951) would be decisive in reining in Attlee’s socialist impulses. They also hoped to rein in his imperial ambitions. Attlee was reported as hoping for ‘a huge influx of private American capital [un gros effort privé américain’] into the colonies. But the Americans were trying to reduce the role of the pound sterling in its colonies and in Europe: ‘The Americans are determined to 192 A. J. WILLIAMS break up the Sterling Bloc’. The Quai saw this as of particular importance in the Far East and, very significantly, such actions fed ‘British distrust… reinforced by developments in Europe’.27 The Truman Administration was turning a lot of pressure on to a so-called ‘ally’. Chancellor of the Exchequer Hugh Gaitskell, newly installed in the position after the retirement through ill-health of Stafford Cripps in Octo- ber 1950, felt the full pressure of his Washington counterpart almost immediately. A moderate Labour Party figure, by no means a radical socialist like Cripps, Gaitskell went to Washington to find himself con- fronting a US Treasury Secretary, John Wesley Snyder, who was openly hostile, and ‘put great pressure… [on Gaitskell]… aimed at softening tariff policy [the Imperial Preference system ]’.28 As observed by the Quai,it was believed that the Americans thought that the Labour Party was trying to privilege Britain’s Commonwealth ties over those with Europe, a view that was correct. However, the United States, the Labour Party had concluded, wanted British help in Europe and beyond, but on its own terms, and that included giving up the British role in the world to the United States through a replacement of the Pound Sterling with the US Dollar and an American designed free trade regime. Indeed, the Quai believed that the United States wanted ‘to establish a preferential trade regime for American exports to the detriment of those of Europe, and particularly those of Britain’.29 Given that Britain had such massive and growing problems with its empire in 1950, as we now know, it may seem surprising that Labour and Conservative British Governments alike were so keen to hang on to their colonies. The withdrawal from empire was for a long time portrayed by historians and politicians alike as having been much easier for the British than for the French. This characterisation has been progressively, even brutally, revised in recent years with the revelations of ‘lost’ Colonial Office files showing how ‘freedoms at midnight’,30 the peaceful lowering of Union flags across the world, was often preceded by horrific repression of local political dissent. Dealing with the Mau Mau rebellion in Kenya was possibly the clearest example of this (see below, pp. 225– 226). Benjamin Grob-Fitzgibbon has done a particular service in showing up the fiction of the mythology of an easy retreat from Empire, as well as more recently showing how that may be said to relate to Britain’s seemingly impossible relationship with Europe.31 The advent of ‘Brexit’ in June 2016 has increased this reflection to suggest that Britain has missed out on many of the opportunities it should have seized as a result of losing 5 UNRELIABLE ALLIES: EMPIRE, 1952–1958 193 the burden of empire and still having a magnificent industrial base.32 We might also echo Bismarck, when he addressed the notion that Germany could take over some colonial territory from France after 1871 that for ‘us in Germany, this colonial business would be just like the silken sable coat in Polish aristocratic families that have no shirts.’33 The Anglo-American ‘Special Relationship ’ has to be seen as based on a shifting background of power, to the point where we might see it as somewhat of a myth.34 We could also counter Acheson’s notorious jibe by saying that the United States had found itself with several new roles that it had never anticipated having. British and, especially, French commentators continued to be astonished about the rise of American armed might after 1945, but the United States had never had to be a world policeman in previous eras, now it was, and the changes were indeed amazing. Even by April 1949 the Quai d’Orsay was able to say that the Pacific was ‘un lac américain’, with 130,000 US troops in the region, compared with very few British or Chinese troops. But the analysis worried that this was about to change, as it was to rapidly after Mao Zedong’s victory in the summer of 1949. Some in the Quai had come to the dangerously wrong analysis as late as April 1949 that the Far East would now be a ‘secondary theatre of operations’ for the foreseeable future, though some mischief making by Russian troops stationed in Korea was not to be excluded. But the results of a Chinese communist victory could be a catastrophic ‘open door for the Reds in South-East Asia’, a likelihood that seemed to be being ignored in Washington.35 In other areas of interest to both Britain and France, the French Gov- ernment thought the Americans were openly dismissive of the colonial powers, and aiming to divide them. A French SDECE intelligence report of January 1951 recounted that the United States had declared that ‘Bri- tain may well have the primary role in the Eastern Mediterranean’. This issue was one of the main discussions at the Malta Conference of January 1951, to which the French Government was conspicuously not invited. They were outraged with George Marshall, now Secretary of Defense, telling Schuman that he merely ‘regret[ted]’ the non-invitation.36 The SDECE concluded that it was mainly a case of (according to the Ameri- cans) a British ‘diplomacy stuck with an oriental mindset [une diplomatie rompues aux finesses orientales]’. This was an accusation often directed against the French as well. The British were indeed seen as arrogantly dismissive of France: the SDECE discovered that the Conference was told by Ernest Bevin, by now a very ill man (he died in April 1951), that ‘the 194 A. J. WILLIAMS possible influence of any other power than ours in the Middle East are weak compared to our own.’ There was no other partner with whom the United States had any interest to deal [intérêt à traiter pour la défense du Moyen-Orient].37 Once again the French felt they were being humiliated by the British and the Americans both by their non-invitation and the language deployed about them. A further, more cultural, understanding of the threat to French interests in the Far East came from the Directeur Politique of the Quai d’Or- say, Maurice Couve de Murville in 1949, who was later to become French Minister of Foreign Affairs under Presidents Coty and de Gaulle (1958– 1968). For him the problem for France was that the United States had only had a European policy since 1940, even if it had had a Far East- ern policy since the end of the nineteenth century. That interest had been purely economic, but now they found themselves, particularly in Korea and Japan, in the entirely new position of what was by then called ‘Trusteeship’, replacing the British and French in that role. The United States was now ‘the defender of the yellow man [défenseur des jaunes] as they were [of] the population of India’, and all ‘against colonialism … [and] defenders of their national aspirations’. In an interesting move, de Murville pointed out that whereas the United States had the economic and military muscle to achieve these aims, only the Russians stood in their way, also ‘posing as liberators of the Yellow Men against White colonialism’. But the United States had been forced to rely on its British, Dutch and French ‘friends’ in Korea, as they would also have to do in South-East Asia. However, the United States could not be in all of these places without ‘attuning [accorder] their European and Asian policies’. They thus needed their allies to make their policies work. The real crunch could come, said de Murville, with some prescience, in South-East Asia, where not only Russia but also China would be trying to upset American aims.38 This provided another layer of uncertainty as the United States tried to accommodate its duel new, and largely untested, roles in Europe and in newly decolonized states. How could this dilemma be resolved? After the war, the American intelligence community, especially bodies within the CIA like the ORE, had slowly come to understand the likely consequences of the United States having to pick up the pieces of the empires Roosevelt so wanted to destroy. The ORE pointed out that nationalist governments could potentially bar US military assets ‘from vital bases and sources of raw materials in case of war.’ There was not much that could be done to remedy this given the unexpectedly rapid 5 UNRELIABLE ALLIES: EMPIRE, 1952–1958 195 withdrawal of Britain from key colonies, especially India, Pakistan and Palestine. ‘Pent-up nationalism’ had exploded the previous realities, even if this was a slightly disingenuous complaint given the key role of the United States in assuring the latter. Moreover, ‘the USSR is effectively exploiting the colonial issue and the economic nationalism of the underdeveloped areas’.39 But this appreciation of the vacuum that had been left and the probable need for the United States to itself pick up the baton of national self-determination once the imperial powers had departed did not diminish the longer-standing moral case that Roosevelt had expressed. Indeed this moral case had not changed in the United States by the time much of the decolonisation process was well under way in the 1950s.

The Eisenhower Administration We have seen how the American dilemma over the EDC and up to the departure of Churchill as Prime Minister in April 1955 played out in Europe. The EDC failed to take off, even as German rearmament was eventually accepted by Britain and France. We will also see just how bad relations with Britain and France in the decolonising world (in that case affecting British and French North Africa ) were to get over the 1956 Suez Crisis . All three Western states were trying to come to terms with unfamiliar national ‘roles’. The American foreign policy analyst of the 1970s, Kal Holsti, is usually credited with the invention of ‘role theory’ in IR. This in practice meant that it was often the individual ‘role’ of powerful policy makers that smoothed over the cracks in the interstices of the Venn diagrams and made an uneasy cooperation possible.40 U.S. Secretary of State John Foster Dulles (January 1953–April 1959) under the Eisenhower Administration (January 1953–January 1961) was one such key ﬁgure. He had come to the attention of the French Govern- ment during the war, but mainly as a counter-weight to Roosevelt and a Republican candidate for the Presidency in 1944. His Collier’s article of June 1948 on the future of Europe had been commented on at some length by Bonnet in Washington, but mainly in the context of discussions with Truman Administration ofﬁcials.41 Often denounced by subsequent writers as a warmonger Dulles was in fact a key conciliator between the conservative and radical wings of American foreign policy. Holsti used the United States during the Dulles (and subsequent) periods as a key exemplar of a state that saw itself as a ‘defender of the faith’ (as in anti-Communist) or ‘regional protector’ 196 A. J. WILLIAMS

(as in Indochina, Egypt, etc.). Dulles’s religiosity and robust language in defence of American foreign policy have made him seem a war-monger. It is not clear that he was. Arguably the Eisenhower White House was no more belligerent than subsequent or previous administrations. As statesmen of the ‘regional protector’ Dulles and Eisenhower forced Britain, France and Israel to withdraw from Suez and did not encourage warlike behaviour. Similarly in their dealings with other Allied leaders they could be fair. President and chief foreign policy advisor kept close relations with Churchill (though they could be famously rude about each other), even if not with his successor Eden, whose foreign policy caused outrage among many Britons during the Suez Affair. Holsti clearly has Britain in mind for his role of ‘faithful ally’, while Dulles and Eisenhower attempted to keep French Fourth Republic politicians on side, maybe as an ‘unreliable ally’ (not an expression Holsti uses). But neither Dulles or Eisenhower ever seriously contemplated war despite a deep loathing of the Soviet Union. The real problems with France for the United States were to come after Dulles’s death in May 1958, which we will mainly examine in Chapter 6. A practicing lawyer with (and latterly Head of) Sullivan and Cromwell for much of the period between 1911 and 1951, Dulles was also a key ﬁgure and founder member of the Council on Foreign Relations (and a key player on this body during PWP ), Chairman of the (Presbyterian) Federal Council of Churches ‘Commission for a Just and Durable Peace’ between 1940 and 1946,42 as well as a key member of the American Dele- gation to the Paris Peace Conference of 1919 and the 1945 San Francisco Conference of the UN. He was thus deeply implicated in the think-tank universe that planned and executed American foreign policy, before, during and after the Second World War and the onset of the Cold War. He was also strongly suspected by the SDECE from at least 1947 of having religious feelings against not only Soviet Russia (a common enough belief amongst the religious) but also the UN. These feelings were allegedly fanned not only by his Protestant beliefs but also by his long-time friendship with Cardinal Spellman. For the SDECE ‘his political actions are based on religious impulses [ses possibilités d’action politique reposent sur des bases réligieuses]’. Bonnet, who knew him well from at least 1948 on, thought him an ‘idealist’, but also a man ‘with a real understanding of political conditions’, to use the French expression Dulles was ‘un homme sérieux’. He was both a key proponent of the push for a much more robust attitude towards the USSR after Roosevelt’s death as well as key architect of the economic and security response to it.43 5 UNRELIABLE ALLIES: EMPIRE, 1952–1958 197

There was still the issue of what Dulles meant to do in practice. In a significant summary of the United States feelings about its main Allies, dated July 1954, we can see a stark divergence of view about the role of empire in the world view of the British and French on one side and that of the United States on the other. In this summary, possibly written by Dulles himself for Eisenhower, the United States is portrayed as feeling that it was fighting an implacable enemy in the Soviet Union and Com- munist China, whereas Britain to a lesser extent and France saw those states as reasonably normal players in an anarchic universe. While the United States saw the colonial powers as having fostered underdevelop- ment and poverty, Britain’s main concerns were portrayed as being to preserve and nurture trade ties, and that put them at odds with American trade policies in a desire to expand their ‘sterling area of trade on a worldwide basis’.44 Britain certainly had to fight communist insurgencies, most notably in Malaya, but also a series of fighting retreats from Empire (as in Palestine, Aden, Kenya and more besides)45 that had ideological elements but were mainly viewed from London as rebellions and from Washington as nationalist uprisings that could be exploited by Chinese and Soviet- backed communists. London was very keen to preserve what remained of British influence for economic reasons, whereas the United States saw fighting communist insurgencies as an existential challenge. The July 1954 document concluded that their unreliable British and French ‘Allies’ were ideologically, even morally, inadequate. For ‘[t]he American people, far more than the people of either Britain or France, are a religious people who like to feel that their international policies have a moral quality… throughout our history we have stood for policies which could be expressed in moral terms.’ Maybe, said the writer, ‘there is a very genuine dedication to moral principles as contributing the element of “enlightenment” to what is called “enlightened self interest”’. This particularly applied to ‘the so-called “colonial” policies of the Western European powers’.46 It is difficult with hindsight to see these views as more than hubristic statements that would come back to haunt the United States throughout the rest of the Cold War. And, as the ORE had put it in 1948, it was ‘President Wilson’s insistence on the self-determination of colonial peoples and the creation of the League of Nations that gave a powerful stimulus to colonial aspirations for independence’. As Erez Manela has pointed out, the impact of Wilson’s declarations was a major factor in the rise of colonial nationalism, and some of the recipients of 198 A. J. WILLIAMS the message never forgot either the message or the disillusion when they felt betrayed by its non-implementation.47 For Alfred Cobban, there was ‘a hardly noticed substitution of an allied but different set of ideals for that of self-determination’.48 Even though he signed the Atlantic Char- ter which largely repeated Wilson’s assertion that democracy could only come through independence, Churchill still defended the actions of the British Empire to do the same. In a letter to Roosevelt in 1944 he had asserted: ‘I make bold…to suggest that British imperialism has spread and is spreading democracy more widely than any other system of government since the beginning of time.’ Wilson’s Secretary of State in 1919, Robert Lansing, had been more pithy and to our ears most politically incorrect: self-determination, he proclaimed, could not benefit those who were ‘too low in the scale of civilization to be able to reach an intelligent decision’.49

American Views of the French Empire

American views of empire were dictated by their geopolitical and cultural views of their role in the world. Culture was indeed a primary weapon in making these views known. The ever-critical Washington Post correspondent Constantine Brown described France in 1954 as ‘an overripe [mûris- sante] prima donna, who has lost the finest qualities of her voice, but retained a semblance of temperament and prestige, and receives from her public respectful but unenthusiastic applause’. Jean Daridan, Chargé d’Af- faires in Washington at the time, reported that the Embassy had riposted with pictures of French troops in the field, evocations of ‘Le Verdun de la Jungle’ and similar replies.50 As we have seen, the United States needed France for its plans for defence and integration in Europe, a difficult task as French administrations and Quai d’Orsay officials alike were terrified of a resurgent Germany. A war-battered France could not hope to provide the troops necessary to pursue both a European defence role and one in its overseas possessions, particularly in Indochina. But from the late 1940s American officials, and most notably Acheson under Truman and Ambassador Bohlen51 under Presidents Eisenhower, Kennedy and John- son pressed the French on European defence issues while being aware that a French defeat in Indochina would transfer some of the burden of fighting communism in the area to the United States. This was accepted with the ‘Vandenberg Resolution’ of May 1948 in the Senate, after which American ‘military advisors’ were first seriously mooted to help friendly 5 UNRELIABLE ALLIES: EMPIRE, 1952–1958 199 states deal with communist insurgencies.52 This was a major departure from hitherto normal United States foreign policy behaviour and had elicited a certain ‘repugnance’ in Bonnet’s words in the Department of Defense. But the Truman Presidency changed American foreign policy from thenceforth and in effect signalled slowly but surely an assumption of formerly French (and British) military responsibility in most of the developing world as it emerged from empire. This first happened in South America, an established area of American interest, but spread to Greece, Turkey, and the Middle East (Iran and Saudi Arabia), and after 1954, Vietnam. As mentioned above, after 1945 France had tried to hang on to its empire in a way that has often been unfavourably compared to Britain. While Britain had an existing framework for an essentially post-colonial future laid out before 1940 in the Commonwealth, France did not. The French ‘Mother Country’, an expression also used by Australians, Cana- dians, New Zealanders and many more besides in the British context, was not used in the same way. For most French people and officials ‘France’ was not just the geographical area of France itself, the ‘Métropole’(best translated as ‘French heartland’), it also encompassed, and still does, what are referred to as ‘départements d’outre-mer’ (DOMs) and ‘térritoires d’outre-mer’ (TOMs). Algeria was widely seen as part of France, a feeling encouraged by geographical proximity (a rough parallel might be Great Britain’s relationship with the island of Ireland) and many generations of native born European and Arab people who saw themselves as French. The European population saw themselves as pieds noirs,their feet most emphatically part of the African Continent. France’s initial post- war reply to the Commonwealth was the Union Française, an institution founded in 1946 that aimed to eradicate the legal distinction between ‘native’ [indigène] and ‘citizen’ [citoyen] even if in practice very few really recognised the change.53 The Union was officially changed into a more Commonwealth-like Communauté Française between 1958 and 1960 and finally transformed into the Organisation Internationale de la Francophonie in 1970, long after France had definitively lost the vast majority of its colonial empire. Unsurprisingly many reports after 1945 from American official observers of France referred to ‘resentment at what is termed US lack of understanding of, if not hostility to, French imperial problems, particularly in Indochina’. This comment of September 1946 was difficult to counter, and the United States was already adopting a certain contempt 200 A. J. WILLIAMS for the ‘so-called French Union’, an unhappy echo of wartime accusations of the ‘so-called Free French’. And yet, the Truman Administration also had to accept that ‘France views its colonies as indispensable to its prestige’.54 To openly attack that belief was to run the risk of losing active cooperation in Europe. Ironically, because of the need to bolster France economically in Europe, and to get the French to cooperate over Ger- man reintegration into European life, the United States was becoming more involved in Vietnam even in the early 1950s, as more and more aid got diverted to shore up the increasingly desperate French colonial administration.55 Equally Truman’s attempts to get more French cooperation over issues such as the EDC and to better use Marshall Aid reduced potential American leverage over colonial issues throughout the rest of Truman’s Presidency. There was genuine warmth in Truman’s welcome for President Auriol at the White House in March 1951. Also present were Truman’s Spe- cial Advisor Averell Harriman, as well as Foreign Ministers Acheson and Schuman and the Paris and Washington Ambassadors David Bruce and Bonnet. The conversation reflected American satisfaction that the Euro- pean side of the discussion had been more or less settled—‘[w]e want a Europe with Germany in it’. Truman equally said he welcomed Britain’s stabilising role for a ‘stable and well-balanced Europe’ and the need for a European Army, hopes that we know were to be dashed after he left the White House. The conversation that followed showed why that might happen. The French were having real problems in Indochina. Auriol told Truman that ‘the very heavy proportion of officers and n.c.o.’s [sic] going out in the twelve battalions from Africa [where they were shortly to be needed for the Algerian insurgency] makes it more difficult to raise an army at home at the same time.’56 The figure of 150,000 troops being needed in Indochina, the figure mentioned to Bruce in September 1950, was increasingly evoked. It looked as if the French commitment to its colonies was bound to impact on its attempts to help with European security. The CIA had given Truman and Acheson precise reports on how much France was spending on defence which showed increases, albeit ‘made possible by U.S. economic aid’, but also showed that the colonial Peter was constantly being robbed to pay the European Paul.57 This was a pattern that the United States realised was unsustainable in the long run as Marshall Aid wound down (as it did in 1952). 5 UNRELIABLE ALLIES: EMPIRE, 1952–1958 201

From Indochine to Vietnam The major challenge for the United States and its relationship with France over colonial issues was of course Indochina (contemporary Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam). The two countries were destined to share an obsession with Indochina that had very different results for both. In the early 1950s French official visitors to Washington were very keen to discuss how the United States could help them defeat the insurgent Viet Minh, a task the United States Government was not overly keen to assume at this point. They often couched their requests in the language of the new ideas of ‘development’ explored below (pp. 221–224) but were also keen to gain as much financial assistance as possible. The Quai d’Orsay realised that in the late 1940s and early 1950s the American view was that France ‘should assume its responsibilities in Vietnam with a modest contribution [aide modérée] from the United States.’ In December 1949–March 1950 the State Department had sent an Ambassador-at-Large Philip Jessup on a fact-finding tour of a number of trouble spots in Asia, including Indochina. He had passed by the Quai d’Orsay on his return and told Foreign Minister Schuman his impres- sions. This was followed by a Quai interpretation of Jessup’s findings. Jessup’s report to Washington was full of alarm about ‘communist expansion’ and that ‘Indochina is the key to the situation and that Southeast Asia is in balance.’ The war was ‘hot’ in Korea, but also in Indochina, Malaya and Burma and likely to explode in the Indian sub-continent. Lack of democratic government, corruption, incompetence and inexperience were the main problems, while he downplayed the economic and social problems that underlay the political issues. In particular he noted in his report to Washington that ‘Indochina is fundamentally extremely rich’ and was unsympathetic to the French in general: he ‘had found no enthusiasm whatsoever for a Southeast Asian Union [Union Française] and does not believe that a regional pact is a very important subject’.58 But in Jessup’s meeting with Schuman in March 1950, in the company of American Ambassador Bruce, the French thought they had a different understanding of the American position. Schuman had put much more stress on the economic and military needs of the French authorities and admitted frankly that ‘certain US anti-colonial attitudes can annoy Paris [peut déplaire à Paris] … in a relationship that was already rather strained [déjà suffisamment herisée]’. Bruce attempted to smooth the discussion by saying that the United States ‘was in favour of the emancipation of Viet 202 A. J. WILLIAMS

Nahm [sic] within the framework of the [Union Française] … in line with the traditional policy of the United States’, clearly not the view of Jessup, but one that he kept to himself on this occasion. Where Jessup admitted his agreement with the French was in the incompetence of the local Vietnamese ‘cadres’ but added that although the local population seemed unimpressed by Ho Chih-Minh, it was also not impressed by the French puppet monarch, the Bao Dai. The final discussion agreed that ‘only political, economic and financial factors are likely to bring a long- term solution to this situation’.59 Despite some patching up of the French and American attitudes towards Indochina, it had become clear towards the end of the Truman Presidency there was little common ground between the two states. The Truman Administration was increasingly convinced that there was a real risk of the French losing Indochina. CIA assessments in 1950–1951 of the likely result of French actions was that ‘the French position in Indochina is increasingly threatened by the Viet Minh and there was ‘only a slight chance’ that the French could build up a Vietnamese Government capable of stopping the communists. In the context of the deteriorating situation in Korea, there was scant sympathy for the French dilemma. The only possible crumb of comfort for the CIA was that as long as the Chinese were so committed in Korea they would not be able to significantly help the Viet Minh. The best that could be hoped for in 1951 was a ‘stalemate’, possibly through to 1953.60 Of concerned American officials only Ambassador Bruce was really sympathetic to the French position. In a lengthy report of late 1950, possibly given to the Quai d’Orsay by Bruce himself or by a White House source, a very robust exchange of views mainly between Acheson, Bruce and Truman revealed very little sympathy for France’s dilemma. Bruce had met ‘an uncrossable wall [un mur infranchissable]’, Truman’s views were that he doubted the French Government’s stability and its chances of getting any coherent military or political solution in Indochina, bur- dened as it was by a Communist Party that was so hostile to the Govern- ment. Moreover he did not believe that France would ever give the local population ‘real legal or material autonomy [une autonomie juridique et matérielle réelle]’. Truman was of course preoccupied with the situation in Korea, where in November 1950 United Nations (mainly South Korean and American) troops were being pushed back to the south of the country by a huge Chinese army. Bruce’s request for the President to take account of French ‘sensibilities’ was rebuffed by Truman’s reply that ‘we 5 UNRELIABLE ALLIES: EMPIRE, 1952–1958 203 are fighting in Korea, but Korea is not an American colony’. Bruce’s subsequent discussions with Acheson and Dean Rusk, then Second Assistant Secretary of State for Eastern Affairs, subsequently Presidents Kennedy and Johnson’s Secretary of State, were slightly more emollient. Acheson did not want to ‘rush [brusquer]’ France, but Rusk ‘rather brutally [d’une manière assez tranchante] upheld the American thesis that it was Asiatic nationalisms that needed support’ not France. In short ‘none of Bruce’s moderating arguments were listened to [n’a porté].’61 That pattern was to remain intact under the new President Eisenhower. When new Foreign Minister Georges Bidault went with Prime Minister René Mayer, (Président du Conseil during a six-month period from Jan- uary–June 1953) in late March 1953 they took with them the Minister of Finance Maurice Bourgès-Manoury and the Quai’s Head of the Vietnam and Etats associés (so Indochine) desk. The context was crucial as Eisen- hower had only just taken office, Stalin’s death was announced during the visit, and the ending of the fighting in Korea gave the possibility of a new start in both global politics and Western policy-making. The gap between French requests for economic and military assistance and the American insistence on giving more autonomy to local populations was well demonstrated yet again. The French delegation tried to modify its position, or rather language, accordingly. French economic and political interests would not be listened to unless the cries of the oppressed were also heard. Bonnet urged Bidault to concentrate on talking about ‘France’s important efforts on behalf of the underdeveloped countries of the free world’. Bidault ‘in particular’ should stress how much ‘economic aid’ France had given to l’Union Française (the départements d’Outremer,soIndochine, Afrique Occidentale et Ori- entale, and which also included Algeria). This was of course a claim much ridiculed by a generation of colonialised leaders like Leopold Senghor. The point for Bonnet was for the French delegation to seem to be following a policy upon which the United States was putting increasing emphasis in its fight with the Soviet Union. The American press was mixed, as always, in its prognosis for French progress. While the Wall Street Journal felt France had ‘a good chance’ of getting financial aid for Vietnam, the Washington Post represented the consensus view that ‘the French always ask for more and always deliver less.’ Even if the American military establishment, reporting General Mark Clark who had visited Vietnam, were positive about France’s efforts there, Constantine Brown writing in the Washington Evening Star thought ‘American instructors’ could be sent 204 A. J. WILLIAMS to Vietnam, whilst other outlets suggested that ‘alternatives needed to be found’.62 In the event Secretary of State John Foster Dulles was so preoccupied with the then unforseeable consequences of Stalin’s demise that he put off any decision on aid for France in Indochina until the forthcoming NATO Summit in Paris on 23 April 1953. The French were regaled with positive American views of the British position on tariffs and they were happy for a quid pro quo of a devaluation of the pound sterling, but not of the French franc. The French left empty handed, a conclusion that led the French Ambassador (High Commissioner) to Berlin André François- Poncet (1949–1955) to launch a diatribe against both German and Amer- ican ‘puerility’ [leur naïveté assez puerile]. The Soviet press rubbed salt in the wound and gloated that Mayer and Bidault had gone to ‘marchander’ as ‘clients français’ [to trade as French clients of the Americans] and that Adenauer ‘had a much better reception’. All the reports by the Quai on this visit stress how much the new American Administration linked French delay on helping firm up the EDC, signed in May 1952, and with the new arrangements for the Sarre. Mayer pleaded for patience on both of these; Bonnet even gave Bidault the ammunition that France would have to forego $150 million of its NATO contributions, such were its financial straits, and suggested he tell Dulles so, ‘d’une manière précise’, a figure duly leaked to Washington.63 The United States was losing patience with France, which of course had an impact on its willingness to open the purse strings for Indochina or anything else. France had still to persuade the American political class that it was prepared or able to help itself. While Bidault and Mayer were in the United States the French Consul in Chicago, François Brière, was reporting back to Bonnet and the Quai d’Orsay that all anyone in Chicago knew about France was its strikes and Americans ‘stranded in our country [blo- qués dans notre pays]’. The entire American press was obsessed by French pusillanimity over the rearmament of Germany, the EDC, and their seeming inability to get to grips with the crisis in Indochina. France, said the Chicago Tribune, was looking ungovernable, we [the Americans] have as ‘a supposed ally a people that doesn’t want to fight, or pay taxes or even organise a stable government [comme soi-disant allié un peuple qui ne veut pas se battre, qui ne veut pas payer des impôts, qui ne veut pas organiser un government stable]’. France was on the ‘decline [dérive]’ towards ‘anarchy based on socialist theory… a politics of the madhouse [une anarchie fondée sur la théorie socialiste… une politique de folie].’64 5 UNRELIABLE ALLIES: EMPIRE, 1952–1958 205

As if to confirm this thesis the Los Angeles Times blamed thinkers like Aimé Césaire, at the height of his early Parisian fame, and now ‘the most virulent Yankee-hater of the western world.’ In spite of American largesse, this man had persuaded the Martiniquais that ‘they’d gladly shoot Santa Claus if Dr. Césaire called him an imperialist and a warmonger’. The ungrateful wretches rejected our ‘popular magazines… [while reading] the Commies … fly-specked biographies of Gorky and Stalin, and some dismal-looking works on Marxist economics’. There was indeed, said Bidault, ‘a growing concern [une préoccupation croissante]’ about France in the United States.65 That preoccupation was very keenly felt by the Eisenhower administration, and partly because the President and Dulles feared they would have to pick up the pieces of French incompetence in Indochina, and also in Europe as the EDC débâcle was simultaneously showing. It was realised in the United States, though not often properly recognised, that France had spent a colossal fortune in Indochina in terms of cash and blood, over $1.4 billion in 1952 alone. Maurice Schuman, the main French supporter at that time of European integration, pointed out in speeches in Cleveland and Detroit in October 1953 that this compared favourably with the $1.785 billion Nazi Germany had spent on its entire occupation of France. 135,000 had died in Indochina, including 1700 French officers and France had committed over 260,000 troops. Unfortunately, the Cleveland News lamented, ‘the group he represents have little to say about French internal affairs’, and the same ‘old time politicians are still in the saddle’, like Edouard Herriot, one of the failed men of 1939. But Schuman was the French representative to the UN and Secrétaire d’Etat at the Quai d’Orsay so the main American bile was being directed at the elected French government and the very system of government itself. Taken along with American despair about French financial fraud and disarray it was the Fourth Republic as a whole that worried Washington.66 Indochina was but one element of that larger worry. From a French perspective, the attempts by Mayer and Bidault described above illustrate just how hard the Fourth Republic tried to convince both the British and the Americans to take it seriously. The upcom- ing Bermuda Conference of December 1953 (to which France was also invited) was seen with foreboding by Paris after the rapturous reception that had been given to British ministers Butler and Eden before Bidault and Mayer’s visit. Indeed the New York Times reported that France’s main aim in Bermuda was ‘to persuade the Americans and the British to remain 206 A. J. WILLIAMS in Europe’, a judgement reported back to the Quai d’Orsay by Bonnet.67 He was worried that the Anglo-Saxons might just give up on France.

Bermuda 1953: ‘France Must Give In’ With hindsight, we can see that the French fears about Anglo-Saxon unity were overdone. Eisenhower’s meeting with Churchill in Bermuda in 1953 should rather be seen as another American attempt to try and find a way to accommodate British, French and American wishes on both European and imperial questions. In the run up to the meeting the still inexpe- rienced Eisenhower Administration tried to understand the logic of their Allies’ positions. The Americans were trying to make the British in general and Churchill in particular be more accommodating to the French, with Churchill’s disdain for the French Government a constant source of irritation—Eisenhower was said to be ‘burned up’ by both French seeming incompetence in Indochina and domestically, and by the British lack of cooperation. Churchill in particular was seen as deliberately provocative, Dulles telling the President that ‘Winston liked so much to do this and that [Dulles] was afraid he would go to extremes’. More generally though Eisenhower and Dulles thought the British and French were being duplic- itous, and ‘pulling a fast one’.68 Keeping the Americans guessing was the only position they held in common. Dulles discussed these dilemmas with his principle aides at length after Mayer and Bidault had returned to Paris in early June 1953. Churchill’s ego was identified as a major factor, he wanted, according to Dulles, to go ‘before he dies’ from being mainly seen as ‘war-monger… [to] being a peace-maker’. But the United States could use this leverage to push the EDC over the line, create an ‘orderly development of colonial situation to native rule: it is the reckless [sic] nationalist movements that play into the hands of Communists’. On all these matters ‘we must [sic] take a firm line of leadership. And France must give in’, while Britain was to be coaxed to do so as well.69 The strengthening of Allied positions in order to stand up to Soviet Russia and China across the world was the main focus of the later Bermuda discussions. This involved both Europe, so strengthening NATO, with help from the (by now) doomed EDC, though its existence was still ‘assumed’, but also in British and French spheres of influence. Indochina was a primary concern, and ‘must be held for the sake of all S.E. Asia’. The United States must work closely with France and Britain in case of a repeat of Chinese actions in Korea. Perhaps the most 5 UNRELIABLE ALLIES: EMPIRE, 1952–1958 207 important American aim was a variant on the informal Dulles conversations needed to marginalise ‘reckless [sic]’ communists in underdeveloped areas; the West must find ways ‘to reconcile strong nationalism with necessary cooperation and to provide some promise of better living standards’.70 This iteration of what was developing into economic statecraft was still not clarified. There was no explanation of how to achieve such aims, though under the Kennedy and Johnson Administrations the United States poured billions of dollars into Indochina in particular. Aid and ‘development’ were the tools for this, as will be explained on pp. 221– 224. The pressure to accommodate the Americans over the EDC and the need to absorb huge losses in Indochina finally proved too much for the French system to bear. The defeat at the battle of Dien Bien Phu in Indochina in June 1954 led to the fall of the French Administration that had succeeded Mayer’s at the end of June 1953, that of conservative Pierre Laniel (and Foreign Minister Bidault who had stayed on) on 19 June 1954. He was succeeded by the Radical (and former supporter of Blum’s Popular Front and subsequently Gaullist) Pierre Mendès France, who was elected with the main mandate of ending the war in Indochina. He achieved this in a government that relied on Communist support (and featured François Mitterand as Minister of the Interior), at the Geneva Conference of April–July 1954.71 The French Embassy in Washington sent the Quai d’Orsay a mournful despatch complaining that Dulles had not understood ‘how much the French were fed up with [en avaient assez] of the Indochina war and also being expected to ratify the [EDC]’. The American press was now beginning to panic, as in the Washington Post’s assertion on 19 June that France might even ‘disarm’ entirely.72 It is not therefore surprising that Mendès France’s achievement in Geneva was not replicated in his efforts to confirm French participation in the EDC, which was rejected by the French Assemblée on 30 August 1954 for reasons that included nationalist worries about Amer- ican interference in Europe, German resurgence and the absence of the UK. Churchill retained an, albeit declining, glory and further confirmed American theories about French unreliability. The French Consul General in Detroit even said the fall of the Laniel Cabinet and the Geneva Con- ference showed that ‘our political system is incapable of adapting to the gravity of the situation’. He reported the belief in the Detroit News that ‘We [the United States] Lean on Weak Reeds’. France was no longer a 208 A. J. WILLIAMS viable ally, Britain had to be relied on much more. He had no idea that Dulles felt both of his Allies were in fact unreliable.73 The American public also had their doubts. A Gallup poll of Septem- ber 1954 put ‘positive’ views of France by the American public at 57%, (with very favourable at 12%) whereas for Britain it was 66% and 20% very favourable. Neither were resonant votes of support, unless compared to the ‘very unfavourable’ views of 75% of all Americans towards the USSR. Mendès France was generally seen in a very poor light compared with Churchill. The appointment of Mitterand, now in charge of the French equivalent of the CIA, and the PCF’s association with the government made for very poor headlines on Main Street. Headlines by virulent anti-Communist journalists such as Victor Riesel became common. One such in July 1954 read: ‘Red Fifth Column Infests France from Top to Bottom’.74

The Road to the Algerian War of Independence

North Africa While the French were in the process of a humiliating retreat from Indochina in 1954, they were also grappling with what was to prove an even more traumatic retreat from North Africa, and especially from Algeria. The story of this eviction has naturally provoked a vast amount of attention from historians, to which a book like this can only bow in homage.75 The intention here is again to show how the American, and to a lesser extent, the British states were seen as spoilers by the French governments that had to deal with the situation. At the beginning of the Truman Administration North Africa, like Indochina, was not seen as a major potential trouble spot, an ORE report of 1947 concluding that there was ‘no immediate danger of a successful revolt in North Africa’. The CIA modified this opinion after France got into major difficulties in Indochina from about 1952 onwards—the ‘chief problem in the area is the increasing instability created by growing local nationalism in French North Africa, especially in Tunisia and Morocco.’ This was much the same observation that had been made about the French presence in Indochina in the late 1940s, and the issue that most troubled the Americans was the same: France would try a policy of ‘limited concessions’, this would fail, and yet France ‘is determined to retain control, by force if necessary, over French North Africa , which it 5 UNRELIABLE ALLIES: EMPIRE, 1952–1958 209 regards as the most vital part of its overseas empire’. Algeria was predicted to ‘lag behind [Tunisia and Morocco] … but we believe … may prove the most difficult to resolve.’76 So it was to prove. By the beginning of 1956, Ambassador Couve de Murville was reporting to Paris from Washington that the American view of France after the debacle in Indochina was that France seemed to be ‘increasingly col- lapsing [s’enfoncer toujours d’avantage]’, and that the situation in North Africa was in particular getting worse. Even before the Suez Crisis Mollet was seen as an unstable prime minister (from 1 February 1956). Couve de Murville commented that particular alarm was being expressed in the United States that a Socialist like Mollet could have been elected with only 107 seats for the SFIO, even if the more acceptable (in US eyes) centrist MRP supported him. This was spoiled by an excellent showing by the PCF (with 150 seats, a post-war record) and by populist Pierre Pou- jade (with 52), openly described as a ‘fascist’, a term that was not much of an exaggeration. The New York Times was quoted as saying that this clearly unstable government was ‘worse than could have been imagined’ and would drive the United States to more and more rely on Britain.77 The United States was also seen as untrustworthy by the French. An analysis of late 1956 by the well-informed Charles Lucet, French Min- ister in Washington (and Ambassador there 1965–1972), but one that could have been written at any time in the 1950s, suggested that mostly the United States had not really interfered in North Africa, except to defend their citizens, possibly since the 1906 Conference of Algeciras. But interference there was nonetheless. Sometimes this was put down to well-meaning interference by ‘American charitable organisations [institutions de bienfaisance américaines]’. Sometimes it was because of personal contacts by such organisations and individuals, as well as the official American Information Service. But this could, and often did, tip over into ‘real interference in North Africa [véritable ingérence dans les affaires de l’Afrique du Nord]…. to the point of it being damaging to French interests [néfaste aux intérêts français]’. The real problem, again, lay in American anti-colonial attitudes, ‘a basic element of American ideology’ and a generalised sympathy for nationalist elements. Lucet believed that then Ambassador to Cairo, Henry A. Byroade, and other diplomats had ‘personally’ close relations with a number of ‘nationalist leaders [leaders autonomistes]’.78 It is generally accepted that Byroade was trying to dissuade Nasser and other nationalist leaders from reckless actions (he was only in Cairo for one year, 1955–1956), but that is not how it appeared 210 A. J. WILLIAMS to the Quai. And Byroade’s moderating influence did indeed fall on deaf ears as Nasser swung more and more towards the Soviet Union in the later 1950s.79 Such interference was sensed by the French Ambassador in Cairo, Armand du Chayla, in early 1956, when he reported unusual Ameri- can diplomatic activity that clearly involved the new High Dam at Aswan which the Americans were helping to build. But du Chayla could extract no information as to what this meant. This turned into a round robin of despatches with French diplomats across the Middle East and North Africa reporting unusual and secretive American activity. Such activity prompted a serious note for the new Foreign Minister, Christian Pineau, who was to have to deal with the Suez Crisis of later in 1956. The ‘Note’ accused the United States of behaviour ‘of a sometimes meanspirited attitude [parfois de façon mesquine]’ towards French North Africa and Alge- ria in particular.80 This was echoed by reports in the American press, where Algeria was described in February 1956 as ‘no longer a French province’, and predicting violence should Pineau visit Algiers. Indeed the US Press saw the game was up for France in North Africa well before the Suez Crisis and the eruption of revolt in Tunisia, where Bourguiba had obtained independence from France in March 1956, and Algeria itself. Romain Gary, at this period France’s Consul General in Los Angeles, noted that a visiting speaker had been taken to task for the ‘anarchy’ of French politics, the ‘failures’ in Indochina and the ‘exhaustion [éssouflement]’ in North Africa. Gary asked for more ‘understanding… [they] did not comprehend the nature of the difficulties facing us’. This lack of ‘compréhension’ was a mixture of American distaste over colonialism in general and an even greater incomprehension about the confusing nature of French politics.81 The American reaction during the Suez crisis and towards French North African policies has to be understood in the light of such openly expressed feelings. French bitterness towards the United States is its mirror image: how could the pampered Americans understand the actual and impending loss of swathes of territory that were either Afrique Française, or even France itself, as in the case of Algeria? They were naïve idealists. Couve de Murville tried to explain this in a press release: ‘every Frenchman [was going to] defend on the other side of the Mediterranean, the security of other French families’. French people had been building ‘roads, bridges and cities [in Algeria] … while Colorado, Wyoming and California were not yet members of the Union … The Algerian settler is 5 UNRELIABLE ALLIES: EMPIRE, 1952–1958 211 much closer to the American pioneer than an overseer’. Walter Lippmann had insultingly summed up the situation as ‘too many Frenchmen settled among too many Arabs’, yet for the French it was the ‘fanaticism and racism… [of the] rebel bands’82 that was causing all the problems. Of course it was difficult for public or official opinion in the United States to accept that, as we might say today, settling Wyoming was a case of ‘too many Americans among too many native Americans’ or to denigrate the Front de Libération Nationale in Algeria as ‘rebel bands’ when surely they were more like the Minutemen of 1775 fighting against the perfidious British?

The Suez Crisis, 1956

The problem was that Britain was indeed part of the anti-colonial ‘ideology’, even mythology, of the United States, and that it was also seen as an irritant in Washington. Churchill had long been seen as an anachro- nism, if one that had to be given due respect. But after he stood down in early April 1955 his successor could expect less tolerance. Nothing better illustrated the gulf between American and Anglo-French thinking about empire than during the Suez Crisis . Whereas for the British and French to submit to what Prime Minister Anthony Eden and a new French Prési- dent du Conseil Mollet saw as Nasser’s Egyptian blackmail in nationalising the Suez Canal in July 1956, for the Eisenhower Administration it was an important test of the need for tolerance in the face of emerging nationalism in a post-colonial world. Mollet was heavily involved in an evolving rebellion in Algeria, which was openly backed by Nasser. He was also already providing Israel with large amounts of French weaponry (especially aircraft and tanks) to counter the even greater amount of Soviet army weaponry (aircraft, tanks and much besides) being received by the Egyptian army. Mollet had told Anthony Eden in March that ‘[a]ll this is in the works of Nasser, just as Hitler’s policy was written down in Mein Kampf. Nasser has the ambition to recreate the conquests of Islam. But his present position is largely due to the policy of the West in building up and flatter- ing him’.83 This chimed exactly with Eden’s view of recent history. The key ‘lesson[…] of appeasement,’ said Eden who had resigned over the Munich Agreement of 1938, was that it simply served to feed the appetite of the aggressor. So it was ‘important to reduce the stature of a dictator at an early stage … a check to Hitler when he had moved to reoccupy 212 A. J. WILLIAMS the Rhineland would not have destroyed him, but it would have made him pause.’ This was a verdict, says Sidney Aster, ‘widely endorsed by anti-appeasement, right-wing historians as well as liberal and left-wing internationalists’.84 This eliding of Hitler and Nasser was a classic case of misusing historical parallels but it was shared in London and Paris by politicians of the Left and Right still in thrall to the logic of imperialism and greatness. The consequences of this blindness were to ensure that the racially-divided United States was able to morally outflank Britain and France as the defender of post-colonial rights. Dulles and Eisenhower were able to present themselves to key postcolonial leaders like Nehru as restraining the British and French, protecting ‘Egypt’s rights’ while not exonerating Nasser from charges of provocative behaviour.85 The unfolding of the crisis has been extensively explored by historians,86 as has Eisenhower’s and Dulles’s surprise at the actions by Britain, France and Israel when the three states attacked Egypt on 29 October in Operation Musketeer. This surprise was partly due to Eisenhower’s re-election campaign being well under way. The American Administra- tion was furious at what they saw as their allies’ duplicity, especially as the crisis coincided with the Soviet intervention in Hungary, depriving the West of the perfect opportunity to point to the appalling nature of the Soviet regime. How could the West complain about international bul- lying when it was doing the same? In Ambrose’s words, ‘the plot [for it was categorised as such] reeked of nineteenth-century colonialism of the worst sort’ as well as of ‘bad planning’ and ‘bad faith and perfidy’.87 Three states that could normally have counted on the United States in time of war, were thus repudiated. They might have assumed that the fait accompli of their actions would at least lead the American Adminis- tration to allow them their victory, which was achieved quite easily and at relatively little cost. But the Western states were in effect ordered to withdraw which, after a small interlude to save a modicum of face, they did. Dulles thus felt, not for the first time since 1945, that he could sound pompous and condescending: the United States would not tolerate the ‘plot’s’ authors actions: ‘Egypt has been saved from crushing military defeat and political humiliation not by her own strength but by the power of certain principles enumerated in the Charter of the United Nations and supported by many of its members and notably the United States.’ Eisenhower repeated the same message to Eden and Mollet the day of 5 UNRELIABLE ALLIES: EMPIRE, 1952–1958 213 the invasion, 30 October 1956.88 However, in a comprehensive analysis of the low ebb that American actions had left their relations with Britain and France after the American repudiation, it was made clear that ‘upholding the processes of international law and order’ would also ‘greatly enhance… the prestige of the United States’. Britain and France ‘had been repeatedly and solemnly warned by the United States against invoking force’ and had now ‘promptly and urgently … [bought] about a cease-fire and a withdrawal of invading forces’. What must have particularly annoyed London and Paris was the claim that ‘the United States thus presented the world, perhaps for the first time, with the spectacle of a great nation which put the principles of peace ahead of ties of friendship and alliance and of political expediency’. Maybe, went on the document, ‘the common denominator was a desire to set back the rising tide of Arab nationalism’, for the French in North Africa and the British in the Middle East and Persian Gulf. Only Israel had made ‘some gains’, and ‘had again displayed the relative inferiority of the Egyptians when it comes to fighting.’ It acknowledged that ‘[t]he British have perhaps been the greatest losers.’ It had lost economically, in terms of influence and in its ‘moral position’.89 The British and French did feel that for the first time the United States had usurped their role as powers who could do more or less as they pleased. Eden in particular was terminally weakened and British policy in the Middle East, already shaky with the contemporaneous problems in Cyprus, had to scramble to retain some semblance of dignity. Dulles (and through him Eisenhower) had been told by Eden only three days before the invasion that Egypt winning the dispute ‘would mean the end of Great Britain’. When Dulles returned to Washington to the Senate For- eign Relations Committee he watered that down with the statement that ‘some bitterness [was] being generated against the U.S. in both Britain and France alleging that we had let them down. Such criticism was regret- table but inevitable in view of our moderating role’.90 This was an understatement of the highest order. In effect what Eden had told Dulles in January 1956, was that there was a plot to destroy British influence in the Middle East by ‘the [Soviet] Bear’ and this would allow it ‘to fall into Communist hands’, in effect being supported by American emphasis on the rule of international law.91 The British and French thus felt very let down about the ‘lack of support from our Amer- ican friends’, as a meeting of the French Council of Minsters put it in late September, shown to American Ambassador Dillon by Daridan. Mollet’s 214 A. J. WILLIAMS position at home was already understood by Dillon and Dulles to be even shakier than Eden’s before the Suez intervention, ‘a marked deterioration of the political situation’, and the Suez debacle had made the situation worse. Before the invasion the French had been asking that the United States intervene on France’s behalf to stop Nasser nationalising the Suez Canal, and Dillon said he was sure that if they did not ‘the French will be looking for a scapegoat, and a portion of the blame will inevitably be thrown on the United States.’92 The irony is that Mollet felt he, and by extension France, was being misunderstood. The Director of the Quai’s Direction d’Amérique,Jean Basdevant, one of the greatest French experts on the Middle East, regret- ted that the ‘Americans had not understood’ the importance for France, and Britain, of the Middle East and North Africa, including the Suez Canal. This was not like Indochina, this was a question of ‘real interdependence [une véritable interdépendence] established over 12 centuries’. It was as if Washington could ignore a ‘civil war breaking out in Mexico.’ Moreover, the Director echoed Eden’s complaint that the result would also be bad for the United States, for it would encourage communist infiltration, destabilise the international oil market (this had happened as a result of Nasser blocking the Suez Canal), and generally in the long run inconvenience, or lead to ‘a considerable loss [une perte considérable]’ for the United States and far more than for France. Israel would be further threatened, there would be a rise of anti-semitism in the area. Rather than condemning Anglo-French actions the UN should intervene and stop ‘Soviet aggression’. Of course in many ways this prophecy was not without merit, as the Arab-Israeli war of 1973, and endless trouble between Israel and its neighbours ever since may be said to suggest. Basdevant’s long-term suggestion was that in future Europe ‘[nos voisins européenes]’ should work together to ignore the United States even if, he also correctly predicted, ‘time is working against us whatever route we try and take.’93 There is still no coherent EU policy in the Middle East of which anyone takes any real notice. But there was a certain Gaullist contempt for Yan- kee imperialism in Badevant’s comments that de Gaulle did indeed take up, with his later arms sales to and diplomacy with all sides in the Middle East, as well as his East-West policies that so annoyed the Americans in the 1960s.94 The Quai’s solution was to try and steady the Franco-American relationship, to reduce ‘an understandable but overstated emotional response [une émotion compréhensible mais exagérée]’. It decided to send Mollet, 5 UNRELIABLE ALLIES: EMPIRE, 1952–1958 215 in the dying days of his own Premiership in February–March 1957,95 to the United States on a ‘major psychological offensive to convince Amer- ican public opinion [une vaste action psychologique sur l’opinion publique d’Outre Atlantique]’.96 The visit was largely designed by Hervé Alp- hand, now the French Ambassador to Washington (1956–1965). The veteran French diplomat who probably knew the United States better than anyone in the Quai, was also well respected there. In September 1956, to prepare the ground for a Franco-American reconciliation, the emollient Alphand was able to say to the American Club in Washington, straight-faced, that there were no ‘fundamental differences… we don’t really vary in our foreign policies [il ne me paraît pas que nous puis- sions varier l’un ou l’autre]’. The United States and France were ‘of the same family of nations’, in NATO together. In a cleverly ambiguous jibe, he added that if there was a problem in Britain and France it was with ‘unilateral actions [actes unilateraux]’ which evoked memories of 1933– 1938 by ‘dictateurs’. Alphand carefully avoided saying who these might now be, but the London Agreement that was brokered by Dulles was described as: ’an honorable solution … to the Suez problem’. But in a separate despatch Alphand explained what Eisenhower meant by ‘unilateral actions’. The President had told a delegation of French parliamentar- ians that the accusation naturally covered Nasser’s unilateral nationalisation of the Suez Canal, but it also covered any action ‘where the man in the street’ would consider the United Nations had been ‘ignored’, and that included ‘unilateral international acts of war [actes de force interna- tionaux]’. The implication was clear to his visitors.97 In this new post-Suez charm offensive, the idea was to present Mol- let as a ‘nice guy… [but not] a clever guy [sic]’, for ‘human contact is essential’. He had to be able to come over as the ‘man in the street’, as Eisenhower had termed it. That human ability had been the reason for Eisenhower’s success it was decided (probably rightly). A film of the Mollets at home in Arras was made, Mollet smiling at the camera, while (bizarrely) introducing his collection of dolls to the American public, all interspersed with clips of Mollet with great European and world statesmen. The records of his discussions with Eisenhower and Dulles, and the targeted US press corps over North Africa and the Middle East record a certain coolness. One penetrating question from Harold King of Reuters asked whether in the end Algeria would be resolved by a form of ‘[Franco- Algerian] Union or maybe simply independence?’98 Happily for Mollet 216 A. J. WILLIAMS the majority of the questions were about the successes of European integration. The subtleties of Alphand’s psychological charm offensive evaporated when Mollet exited the Elysée only a few weeks later on 13 June 1957. We will examine how de Gaulle did things differently after he came to power about a year later in the next chapter.

French Critiques of Empire: From Weil to Fanon and Foucault

To conclude this chapter the discussion will turn to the important intellectual currents that emerged in the 1940s and 1950s in both France and the United States that were to affect thinking and action towards the post-colonial nations that were developing at a fast rate. The emergence in the 1960s of what is referred to as the ‘Third World’ was paralleled by a no less important sea change in ideas about concepts linked to the process of decolonisation. The violence that often accompanied movements for independence, as in Algeria and Kenya, clearly had roots within the areas of the world where independence occurred, but it also had its origins in the intellectual discussions about economics, state- hood, race and much besides, and much of that occurred in Paris, London and Washington. We can see a distinct series of discourses and counter- discourses emanating from anglo-saxon and francophone thinkers. There may be some doubt as to whether a Frenchman, Alfred Sauvy, coined the term ‘Third World’ (le Tiers Monde) in 1952 or the American sinologist Owen Lattimore in 1948, but by 1970 France had a clear claim to being seen as the best locus to debate, and even defend it.99 Before and after the Liberation francophone thinkers and writers like Aimé Césaire, the great Martiniquais poet who attended the Ecole Nor- male Supérieure in Paris in the 1930s, as well as Léopold Senghor and Frantz Fanon, mingled with Parisian Left-Bank intellectuals like Albert Camus and Jean-Paul Sartre. Camus can himself be seen as a thinker of the Tiers Monde, being born in Oran in Algeria and coming to France in his teens. His novels are largely about that hybrid existence, ‘The Plague [La Peste]’, ‘The Outsider [L’étranger]’ and ‘La Chute [The Fall]’ reﬂect- ing his troubled sense of belonging.100 In Parisian intellectual circles Sartrean existentialist thought about ‘authenticity’ and the need to refuse to live in ‘bad faith’ [mauvaise foi]101 co-existed, sometimes uncomfort- ably, with calls for de-colonisation in an intellectually and administratively febrile Third Republic. 5 UNRELIABLE ALLIES: EMPIRE, 1952–1958 217

Another often ignored French philosopher of the period, Simone Weil (who died in Ashford, England during the war), most explicitly linked such ideas about freedom with a need to liberate both oneself (as a French person) and colonial peoples. She felt the burden of colonialism was both ‘interior’ and ‘exterior’—colonial peoples needed their equivalent of the Popular Front of 1936 to throw off the shackles of empire, a move that would help the French themselves to throw off the shackles of the Third Reich. Again we see ‘resistance’ and ‘liberation’ being the solution to ‘humiliation’.102 One of Camus’ and Sartre’s biggest disagreements was about what kind of decolonisation was needed. This was particularly the case over Algeria. Camus had hoped for a ‘reconciliation of equals under the French ﬂag’, Sartre for a ‘French colonial violence [only being] ended by FLN violence’. Sartre lauded Fanon’s call for such violence in ‘The Wretched of the Earth [Les Damnés de la terre] (1961) and wrote a Preface to it, showing how the violence of the colonisers had created the violence of the colonised.103 Weil evoked the Nanking massacres of 1937–38 (where over 200,000 Chinese were killed by Japanese troops), as being a more popular cause of outrage in France than the, admittedly lesser, massacres committed by French troops in Northern Africa in the late 1930s. The Japanese were ‘Yellows’ who wished to ‘civilise though massacre—they want to behave like the Whites!’ French disgust at Japanese actions was as hypocritical as their reaction to children dying under Franco’s bombing of Madrid, ‘while children were dying of exhaustion in Indo-Chinese mines… these dead did not count. They are not real dead [children].’104 Moreover the French Left were as complicit in these deaths as the French Right, equally convinced that colonialism had ‘civilising’ compensations. The outrage Weil felt has its parallel in George Orwell’s Burmese Days, a book whose ideas were equally before their time (in Britain the Gol- lancz edition of 1935 only sold 2500 copies, though the May 1944 edition in Penguin ran to 60,000). The casual reference to the Burmese by white colonists as ‘black, stinking swine’ (and there are worse expressions throughout the book) is as passionately denounced by Orwell as by Weil, but with the same sense of powerlessness to inﬂuence it.105 In a clear reaction to such complicity, ideas like Césaire’s négritude and Fanon’s insistence on the necessity of political violence against colonial oppressors and their local collaborators came to dominate the post- colonial canon in literature and political commentary.106 Political activists who spent crucial times in their lives in France, like Ho Chih-Min in 218 A. J. WILLIAMS

Vietnam (who tried to get Woodrow Wilson to accept Vietnam’s right to self-determination in 1919) and Pol Pot in Cambodia (who lived in Paris in the 1940s and murdered many millions between 1975 and 1979 in his homeland), are archetypes of how café discussions in Montparnasse ended up being acted out in paddy fields and savannahs. Hence they, among many others, across several continents, put these literary figures’ ideas into often devastating practice. Such a mediation can be said to have had more effect on global politics than virtually any other since 1945. One route to show this mediation is by an (inevitably brief) discussion about the nature of colonial and postcolonial thinking on one hand and that of development, a new expression at this period, on the other. The two routes have been fellow travellers, one emerging as a body of critical awareness of how power is asserted over metropolitan and post- colonial peoples, and the other as the assertion of the need for liberal capitalism and democracy to retain a foothold in the former colonies in order to motivate ‘growth’ and ‘prosperity’ across the globe. We need to put these expressions in inverted commas to indicate that they are by no means uncontested or unproblematic. French writers like Gary have shown the way in their critiques of postcolonial environmental degrada- tion, as was alluded to above, but he has had a myriad fellow-travellers.107 Ecology is not a new idea (it was arguably first suggested as a category of thinking by St. Thomas Aquinas or even the Mahatma Buddha) and neither is it exclusively francophone, but it has had a vastly accelerated trajectory since decolonisation. We can definitely say that the postcolonial theories of Césaire and Fanon, as well as Gary and others, have been instrumental in helping a sea change in thinking about power and its attributes and application on the ground as well as in the analyses of the social sciences across the West. So, for example, thinkers whom we could loosely describe as soci- ologists, latterly like Michel Foucault and Pierre Bourdieu, have since the 1970s transformed the discourses of political science, history and other humanities and social sciences. We might say that they have done this in particular in ways that overlap and reinforce much of what we call post- colonial theorising in international relations. So if in their work writers from Fanon to Foucault can be said to have helped upend the assumptions of many ‘grand theories’, that has been in a parallel movement to that of the streets and deserts of Paris and Algeria in the 1960s and 1970s. Quentin Skinner aptly sums up the appeal of Foucault: ‘the study of the alien and the exotic has increasingly been held to take its point from the 5 UNRELIABLE ALLIES: EMPIRE, 1952–1958 219 capacity of other ages and other cultures to offer us counter-examples to some of our most cherished presuppositions and beliefs.’108 Foucault’s idea of the need to find ‘genealogies’ of ideas and practices of power of course also asks us to find out where his ‘genealogy’ comes from. Partly that will always be personal, and Foucault does not hide his obsessive belief that power over sexuality is one of the key ways that Western culture has controlled the life of the metropolis, in Foucault’s case France, but also the extension(s) of that (and those) metropoleis which are and continue to be the colonial and post-colonial world. To explore this thinking and action we first need to understand what Césaire, Fanon and indeed Foucault and Bourdieu were revolting against. As we have explored, the official mindsets in post-war Britain, France and the United States all had very different views about what ‘empire’, or a lack of it, was supposed to deny or confer on subject peoples. In reality all three wanted to optimise their power and hold over other parts of the world, to enhance their agency, not that of those they wished to control. To put it another way, in spite of some genuine liberal desires to amelio- rate the lot of slaves, or more fortunate colonial subjects, none of them were fundamentally thinking of the good of the ‘other’ or the ‘subaltern’ races, just what they could extract from them.109 Thomas MacCarthy has suggested that we can see the Western idea of development as intrinsi- cally tied in to liberal imperialism more broadly about race. Hence the transition from a formal, land-based empire to a relationship with ‘now formally independent, sovereign nations…. [still left them] in fact unfree to control their own fates.’110 Liberal understandings of race and how to best encourage ‘civilisation’ among ‘underdeveloped’ peoples certainly permeated thinking in Britain, France and the United States , even if determined by the particular imperial experiences of these three peoples. There was a genuine and interesting debate from 1900 onwards within and between the three national elites about how to best retain the loyalty of their colonial cousins. That might be by promises of ‘assimilation’ through a mission civilisatrice in the case of France, a ‘Greater Britain’ or ‘Commonwealth’ in the case of Britain, and through the benefits of economic aid, a security ‘umbrella’ and what we would now call ‘soft power’ for the United States. Good liberals like Raymond Aron, whom we have seen was very influential in both France and the United States, advocated Algerian independence from the mid-1950s on.111 This did not mean they were particularly sympathetic 220 A. J. WILLIAMS to the colonised, just that they were realistic enough to realise that the days of huge land-based empires were over. That chimed with American ideas about what a new ‘empire’ might look like. We have noted that from the first days of the war Roosevelt believed that there would not have been a war without the actions of Britain, France and other European powers in building up large colonial empires. The United States painted itself as the defender of the colonised peoples of the world, building on a Wilsonian definition of a need for the self-determination of peoples, and reinforced by similar language in the 1941 Atlantic Charter. Both the Churchillian rhetoric of ‘Imperial’ resistance to Hitler and de Gaulle’s demonstrative raising of his own flag of Resistance in Brazzaville in September 1940 followed by his ostenta- tious use of a North African base in Algiers, reinforced both an Amer- ican and a colonial belief that neither imperial power would give up its empire willingly. By the end of the period covered by this volume not only had Britain and France largely renounced or had been deprived of their empires, but it would be the United States that was being accused of being the imperialist nation. Both the British and the French feared that the United States wanted to replace them as the dominant world powers. Britain more or less accepted this new reality quite early in the War by signing the Atlantic Charter.112 The Free French in exile felt they were not consulted about the Charter (among many other slights) or given any quid pro quo.Asa consequence they revolted against what they saw as increasing American hegemony and felt aggrieved at their treatment, a feeling which we have seen grew throughout the Fourth Republic with the half-hearted Ameri- can support for French efforts in Indo-China, continued with what they saw as American sabotage in North Africa, and was emblematised by the Suez Crisis of 1956. In the 1960s the erstwhile colonialist de Gaulle was able to fashion a new policy which was both Tiermondiste, making France look like the champion of emerging states and also the mediator between newly decolonised states and their new persecutor, the United States. McCarthy convincingly shows that the United States had already perfected a system of ‘hegemonic imperialism’ with the post-Monroe Doctrine in the Amer- icas after 1823.113 De Gaulle understood that perfectly and saw through the American hypocrisy in criticising the British and French for their versions of the genre. France was thus, maybe ironically, able to adapt far more rapidly to the impact of the new conditions of the Cold War on 5 UNRELIABLE ALLIES: EMPIRE, 1952–1958 221 imperial and neo-imperial relationships than the emerging global hege- mon and to benefit from the new circumstances in spite of the horrors of the retreat from Indo-China and Algeria. The creation of La Francophonie left France effectively in control of its former colonies while being able to claim that it was nurturing their independence, a pretence that really only started to founder after the end of the Cold War.114 Meanwhile the British not only lost their Empire, they only gained a pale simulacrum of a replacement in the Commonwealth, a replacement that was more or less thrown away in the rush to join the EEC in the 1960s and 1970s. The United States in the meantime emerged greatly weakened by its defeat in the Vietnam War (1964–1975) that stripped it of much of its post-war economic, cultural and even military advantage.

The Romance of Economic Development As we have seen in previous chapters, American thinkers like Bowman, Lattimore and Spykman had developed a distinctly geopolitical view of the future of world order, with an understanding that this had to be different from the British and French view and practice of a physical empire. It has been suggested that the origins of this debate go back to the Amer- ican War of Independence. Maya Jasonoff’s study of (British American) ‘loyalists’ forced to ﬂee to Britain, Canada and elsewhere after 1783 suggests that the American Revolution ‘inspired the consolidation not of one country but two’, the United States and Canada, and by extension created a model of ‘imperial liberty in contrast to the republican liberty of the United States’. The early leaders of the newly consolidated British North America wanted to prove that their hands-off imperialism could be just as effective as the republicanism of their southern neighbours to increase economic wellbeing and to create a new kind of liberty based on a monar- chical system. We can see obvious echoes of this in the ‘home rule’ ideas of the Round Table movement after the 1900–1902 Boer War which posited a form of ‘imperial citizenship’ or, in Daniel Gorman’s phrase, ‘belonging’. We can also see it in Churchill’s assurances to Roosevelt that the British Empire was by far the best guarantee of liberty for all British subjects that it was possible to imagine. Hence Roosevelt’s scepticism about empire had its roots in his own political historical culture, for monarchy and empire can never be a substitute for republican liberty.115 But what could replace the imperial economic model, one which had been enormously successful for Britain for two centuries? For Neil Smith, 222 A. J. WILLIAMS

‘the real dilemma facing the U.S. ruling classes in the 1890s was not primarily one of space … for all that it came to be expressed that way. The real dilemma lay in the over accumulation of capital and surplus value by a rapidly industrializing national economy and the shrinking opportunities for its reinvestment nationally’. Europeans had dealt with such problems by literally capturing markets and sources of raw materials in their terrestrial empires, leaving the United States with the option of either emulating them in the few ‘empty’ spaces left, with South America as the best option, or developing a different model altogether, one that avoided the United States having to emulate colonial powers that it spent so much time criticizing for precisely such efforts and which was ‘difficult to square with U.S. republicanism’.116 The answer was to opt for a new form of economic model to tie the soon-to-be former colonies into a relationship with both the former colonial powers and the United States. This was accelerated as it became clear in the late 1940s and into the 1960s and 1970s that there was an alternative model on offer, that of international communism. The answer, in David C. Engerman’s phrase, was to embark on the ‘romance of economic development’.117 This can be said to have had two major thrusts. First, as Engerman explains elsewhere, the powerful American think-tanks and the Government invested huge amounts of money in understanding the Soviet economic model in order to be able to both counter it and to build up a clearer picture of it and the advantages it might possibly have. The ‘rise of America’s Soviet experts’ was vertiginous and concentrated mainly in the universities of New York (especially Columbia) and Massachusetts (especially Harvard).118 In so doing the ‘scientific’ exploration of both economic activity and that of International Relations took a huge leap forward. Second, the economists and policy makers in the United States (in particular) embarked on a competition in the main bat- tlegrounds of the Cold War, with India as a major focus for both the Soviet Union and the United States. Jawaharlal Nehru was very taken with the rapid industrialisation of the Soviet Union and heaped praise on the ‘Five Year Plans’. Some Western commentators hoped for a very different model from the one that finally emerged. British intellectuals, notably E. H. Carr, felt that the USSR had much to teach the world economically.119 Carr, mostly misleadingly described in primers of International Relations theory merely as a ‘realist’, so bundled in with Morgenthau, was in fact an idealist, even one of his own despised ‘utopians’, in his regard for Soviet economic 5 UNRELIABLE ALLIES: EMPIRE, 1952–1958 223 theory. He spent much of the war with the Ministry of Information and also gave a number of lectures about the future of the state system, clearly influenced by his admiration for the Soviet economic model. In a lecture at Stanford in 1941, he asked was the ‘future of nations’ to be based on ‘independence or interdependence’?120 His preference was for the latter, his inspiration was Marxist.121

Trade and Aid From the outset in 1933, the Roosevelt Administration had put a great amount of effort into pushing the idea that freer, reciprocal, trade could be a cure for the economic nationalism that we have described as being seen as a major cause of war. Roosevelt’s Secretary of State Cordell Hull had expended enormous resources in the development of a network of bilateral trade agreements with European, South American and other states. At Bretton Woods the idea of a ‘World Trade Organization’ that would develop these relationships into a framework of multilateral agreements was proposed. That hope had only resulted in the much more modest General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (GATT), which was the scene of a number of ‘rounds’ of multilateral trade negotiations from a meeting in Annecy, France in 1949 and then in Torquay, England in 1951.122 The modest tariff reductions that resulted were the earliest of many such meetings, up to and including the eighth Uruguay Round (1986–1993), after which the GATT was ﬁnally renamed the World Trade Organization. American leadership has been, until recently, rightly seen as a continuation of Hull’s and Roosevelt’s initial logic that trade can create a more interdependent and capitalist global economy. This is turn has been the major economic counter to Communist Bloc ideas of centralized planning, such as that proposed by E. H. Carr, outlined above. In the 1960s these two models faced off in the battle for the hearts and minds of the peoples of South-East Asia.

Conclusion: Humiliation and Collaboration Revisited?

The experience of the cycle of humiliation and collaboration for colonised peoples leading to liberation that was the theme of Chapter 2 was reproduced on a widespread scale in the 1950s and 1960s as the British and French Empires toppled and collapsed.123 There was a clear link in the 224 A. J. WILLIAMS minds of those who liberated themselves with the experience of liberation in Europe, and the France of the Second World War was the most obvious exemplar that was followed. We can even see the rituals that were meted out to the collabos in France being reproduced in the violent reprisals in Algiers towards French settlers and those who worked with them. As with some members of the French population who had collaborated between 1940 and 1944, ‘[e]veryone had the right to come and strike them, insult them and spit in their faces … The women, heads shaved beforehand, are shut away [into cells full of human excrement]’.124 Henri Cartier Bres- son’s photographs and his 1946 film of the liberation of Paris, Le Retour (The Reunion), of the treatment of French women who had allegedly slept with German soldiers might almost have served as a blueprint for physical revenge.125 PCF support for revolutionary violence against French troops and white residents, as well as that expressed most volubly by fellow travellers like Sartre (who never joined the PCF and had a difficult relationship with it) in the 1950s was the source of much debate and anguish among French intellectuals of the left, and a main cause of Sartre’s break with Camus, himself an Algerian pied noir. Indeed in 1948 Sartre was condemning the Communist grab for power, and its cynical attitudes, in possibly his most famous post-war play of 1948, Les Mains Sales [Dirty Hands]. In that play the Communist Commissar agrees that he has had ‘les mains sales. Jusqu’aux coudes’ [‘my hands are dirty up to my elbows’] as he tries to justify his actions to his idealistic would-be assassin.126 It is tempting to see an intellectual link in the glorification of the violence meted out by the Resistance to French members of Vichy to that experienced in Algeria during and after the war of independence. The revolutionary writings of Fanon, explicitly condoned and even glorified revolutionary violence against a colonial occupier, and were widely read by French intellectuals in Paris, and certainly by FLN intellectuals.127 We can certainly see it in the words of the white Algerian Frenchman Camus. His last, unfinished, autobiographical manuscript (he was killed in a car accident on 4 January 1960) is a masterpiece of regret for a land that was slipping away from him and from France.128 The common denominator was that the war had provided a background of unspeakable violence, words and actions that encouraged and justified overthrowing established personal and political morality. Britain and France had different experiences in leaving their empires, both endlessly discussed ever since. Martin Thomas summed it up as ‘fight 5 UNRELIABLE ALLIES: EMPIRE, 1952–1958 225 or flight’, the first categorising the French exit, and the second the British. Other writers like Mélanie Torrent have stressed the different legacies that the British and French left behind in their exit from empire, often leaving chaos in their wake.129 In truth both Britain and France fought and fled, though the mythology that has continued to obsess both countries has had similar long-lasting effects on their political discourse. The most obvious long-term effect has been the existence in both countries of substantial minorities from their former colonial possessions, and in both cases the undoubtedly positive economic, social and political impact of these minorities on their ‘mother’ country has often been balanced by racist overtones from some of the rest of the population. At the time of exit, violence on a sometimes apocalyptic scale disfigured the process. For the colonised people themselves the trauma of having been dominated for many decades, even centuries, was compounded by the painful process of separation. Some did not want to be separated, as they felt themselves to be ‘British’ or ‘French’. So in, for example, the case of the Mau Mau rebellion of the 1950s, many Kenyans who did not revolt have been seen as ‘collaborators’ of the British occupying power. As in other places that had been in British hands since the nineteenth century, like Cyprus, they faced opprobrium and death, both for themselves and their families. They were often not well treated even by those to whom they stayed loyal. Exile often followed ‘collaboration’, sometimes to escape the revenge of their ultimately victorious compatriots. Similarly, many Arab Algerian supporters of the French (known as harkis) and who fought alongside them in the struggle against the Front de Libération Nationale (FLN) as well as their white Algerian equivalents (known as pieds noirs) were left in an exile in France where few of the French population had much sympathy for them.130 ‘Liberation’ has created inter-generational castes of Algerians, French and Kenyan people that still see each other with suspicion, and feel déraciné, rootless wherever they live. It even led to massive lapses of historical memory: in Britain’s case there was an attempted process of official historical amnesia that led to the eventual revelation of a host of ‘lost’ Colonial Office files that showed in appalling detail how Britain behaved in its retreat from Empire and how much it triedtocoveritup.131 In France the aftermath has been more brutal still. One reason for this was undoubtedly because the France of the 1940s and 1950s was still feeling its humiliation at the hands of the Germans and saw hanging on to what it had left from its pre-war glory in far more desperate terms. 226 A. J. WILLIAMS

‘Humiliation’ was a term used by all parties in Northern Africa. Dulles (see above) felt the United States had ‘saved [Egypt ] from crushing military defeat and political humiliation’; FLN fighters who were interviewed in the United States in 1956 spoke constantly of the ‘feeling of humiliation’ inherent on being colonised. The typical Algerian, one ‘Arab rebel’ told Max Clos of the New York Times felt he had been ‘humiliated since birth, and his father before him, by the French … the fight is for dignity.’ But, pointed out Couve de Murville, the French ‘colons [sic]’ who had also been interviewed by Clos, said the only solution to ‘terrorists’ was a massive repression, ‘without distinction’ for there are no ‘innocent’ or ‘moderate Arabs’. A third ‘moderate Frenchman’ interviewed by Clos said ‘fear explains everything’ but that the possibility of compromise was slipping away. And that would see the ‘end of French influence’ in North Africa.132 So it was to prove.

Notes

1. See, in particular, John Darwin, The Empire Project: The Rise and Fall of the British World System, 1830–1970 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009); Melanie Torrent, British Decolonisation (1919–1984): The Politics of Power, Liberation and Inﬂuence (Paris: PUF, 2012); Kwasi, Kwarteng, Ghosts of Empire: Britain’s Legacies in the Modern World (London: Bloomsbury, 2011); Piers Brendon, The Decline and Fall of the British Empire, 1781–1997 (London: Vintage, 2008); and Lawrence James, TheRiseandFalloftheBritishEmpire(London: Abacus, 1995). 2. The best introduction to Franco-American relations in the French empire in the 1950s is: Fredrik Logevall, Embers of War: The Fall of an Empire and the Making of America’s Vietnam (New York: Random House, 2012). See also Kathryn C. Statler, Replacing France: The Origins of American Intervention in Vietnam (Lexington, KY: University of Ken- tucky Press, 2007). 3. Anne Deighton, ‘Entente Neo-Coloniale? Ernest Bevin and the Propos- als for an Anglo-French Third World Power, 1945–1949’, Diplomacy and Statecraft, Vol. 17, 2006, pp. 835–852. 4. He was also a pioneer of ‘eco-politics’ with his Goncourt-winning novel about the extermination of elephants in West Africa: Romain Gary, Les Racines du Ciel (Paris: Gallimard, 1956). 5. Gregory Claeys, Imperial Sceptics: British Critics of Empire, 1850–1920 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010); Partha S. Gupta, Impe- rialism and the British Labour Movement, 1914–1964 (London: Sage, 2002); and Lucian Ashworth, International Relations and the Labour 5 UNRELIABLE ALLIES: EMPIRE, 1952–1958 227

Party: Intellectuals and Policy Making from 1918–1945 (London: I.B. Tauris, 2007). 6. On the Dominions and Empire more generally and the First and Second World Wars , see Robert Holland, ‘The British Empire and the Great War, 1914–1918’, Chapter 5; and Keith Jeffrey, ‘The Second World War’, Chapter 13, in The Oxford History of the British Empire, Vol. IV, The Twentieth Century (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999). 7. Quoted by Logevall, Embers of War, p. 46. 8. For an excellent summary of this dilemma see Richard Caplan, Inter- national Governance of War-Torn Territories: Rule and Reconstruction (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006). 9. Daniel Gorman, Imperial Citizenship: Empire and the Question of Belong- ing (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2006), p. 43; and De Gaulle, Discorde chez l’ennemi, pp. 7–8 (cf. Chapter 2). 10. Claeys, Imperial Sceptics, pp. 2–3. 11. Claeys, Imperial Sceptics, p. 5; and J. A. Hobson, Imperialism: A Study (London: George Allen and Unwin, 1902). 12. Duncan Bell, The Idea of Greater Britain: Empire and the Future of World Order, 1860–1900 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2007). 13. Martin Thomas, Bob Moore, and L. J. Butler, Crises of Empire: Decol- onization and Europe’s Imperial States, 1918–1975 (London: Hodder, 2008), p. 36. 14. Myron C. Taylor to Truman, 7 September 1949, WHCF Conﬁdential Files, Box 47, Truman Library. 15. Anne Deighton, ‘Entente Neo-Coloniale? Ernest Bevin and the Pro- posals for an Anglo-French Third World Power, 1945–1949’, op. cit., pp. 835–852, 836–841. 16. Deighton, ‘Entente Neo-Coloniale?…’, pp. 836–841. 17. Deighton, ‘Entente Neo-Coloniale?…’, esp. pp. 840–848. 18. Marshall’s meeting with President Auriol, 6 March 1947, Box 9, MAE, Série Y Internationale, 1944–1949. 19. Srdjan Vucetic, The Anglosphere: A Genealogy of a Racialized Identity in International Relations (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2011). To show how it lingers, see Michael Kenny and Nick Pearce, Shadows of Empire: The Anglosphere in British Politics (Cambridge: Polity, 2018). 20. Council on Foreign Relations, ‘Memorandum on Ethiopia’ [n.d. 1941], Armstrong Papers, Box 74, Seeley Mudd Library, Princeton University. 21. Evelyn Waugh, When the Going Was Good (London: Duckworth, 1946); and Black Mischief (London: Chapman Hall, 1932). 22. Sneha Reddy, ‘Le front du moyen-orient: The Middle East in French Great War Strategy, 1914–1918’, in Robert Johnson and James E. Kitchen (eds.), The Great War in the Middle East: A Clash of Empires (London: Routledge, 2019). See also, for Anglo-French rivalry in the 228 A. J. WILLIAMS

inter-war period: James Barr, A Line in the Sand: Britain, France and the Struggle That Shaped the Middle East (London: Simon and Schuster, 2011); and Walter Reid, Empire of Sand: How Britain Made the Middle East (Edinburgh: Birlinn, 2011). 23. Holmes (London) to Acheson, 7 January 1950, ‘Telegrams’ PSF, Box 165; ORE, ‘Consequences of the Partition of Palestine’, ORE-55, 20 November 1947, PSF, CIA 1946–1947, Box 214: Truman Library. For context, see again Barr, A Line in the Sand, Chapter 26; Reid, Empire of Sand, Chapter 47; and Martin Thomas, Fight or Flight: Britain, France, and their Roads from Empire (Oxford: Oxford Univer- sity Press, 2014), pp. 36–39 and 110–119. On the ORE, the ofﬁcial CIA website says: ‘Much maligned by insiders and outsiders alike, ORE’s record is perhaps not as bad as its reputation. Its analysis holds up well when compared to both the views held by other agencies at the time and our current understanding of events in that period.’ https://www. cia.gov/library/center-for-the-study-of-intelligence/csi-publications/csi- studies/studies/vol51no2/the-beginning-of-intelligence-analysis-in-cia. html (accessed 24 June 2019). 24. Universities Committee on Post-War International Problems (convened by the Commission to Study the Organization of the Peace) on ‘Colonial and Dependent Areas’, 10 pp., part of a ‘Survey of Commission Activities during 1943’, 7 December 1943: Shotwell Papers, Box 242, Columbia University Library. On international trusteeship see James N. Murray, The United Nations Trusteeship System (Chicago: University of Illinois, 1957). 25. Acheson was Assistant Secretary of State in the Roosevelt Administration, and Under Secretary of State, 1945–1947, Secretary of State 1949– 1953, to be replaced by John Foster Dulles (1953–1958). The quote was in a speech by Acheson at West Point on 5 December 1962: Dou- glas Brinkley, ‘Dean Acheson and the “Special Relationship”: The West Point Speech of December 1962’, The Historical Journal, Vol. 33, No. 3, September 1990, pp. 599–608. See also Dean Acheson, Present at the Creation: My Years in the State Department (New York: W. W. Norton, 1969). 26. Kristan Stoddart, Losing an Empire and Finding a Role: Britain, the USA, NATO and Nuclear Weapons, 1964–70 (London: Palgrave Macmil- lan, 2012). 27. ‘Relations Anglo-Américaines après les élections’, 22 March 1950; ‘Les Relations Anglo-Américaines’, 2 April 1950: Box 313, MAE B-Amérique, 1944–1952: Politique Extérieure: Relations Etats Unis- Grande Bretagne. 5 UNRELIABLE ALLIES: EMPIRE, 1952–1958 229

28. ‘Les U.S.A. et l’Angleterre’, 30 October 1950: Box 313, MAE B- Amérique, 1944–1952: Politique Extérieure: Relations Etats Unis- Grande Bretagne. Gaitskell was leader of the Labour Party in opposition, 1955–1963, when he was a ﬁerce opponent of Eden’s invasion of Suez. 29. ‘Les U.S.A. et l’Angleterre’, 30 October 1950, doc. cit. supra. 30. Robert Holland, Susan Williams, and Terry Barringer (eds.), The Iconog- raphy of Independence: ‘Freedoms at Midnight’ (London: Routledge, 2010). 31. Benjamin Grob-Fitzgibbon, Imperial Endgame: Britain’s Dirty Wars and the End of Empire (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011); Continental Drift: Britain and the End of Empire to the Rise of Euroscepticism (Cam- bridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016). See also Calder Watson, Empire of Secrets: British Intelligence, the Cold War and the Twilight of Empire (London: HarperPress, 2013). 32. David Edgerton, The Rise and Fall of the British Nation: A Twentieth- Century History (London: Allen Lane, 2018); and James Hamilton- Paterson, What We Have Lost: The Dismantling of Great Britain (Lon- don: Head of Zeus, 2019). 33. Otto Fürst von Bismarck, Die gesammelten Werke, Vol. 7: Gespräche (Berlin: O. Stollberg, 1924), p. 503. My thanks to my St Andrews colleague Frank Müller for this quote. 34. Alex Danchev, On Specialness: Essays in Anglo-American Relations (Lon- don: Palgrave Macmilan/St Anthony’s, 1998). 35. Note by the Directions d’Europe and Asie-Océanie, ‘Stratégie américaine en Extrême-Orient’, 11 April 1949, Box 17, MAE Série Y Affaires Poli- tiques Etats-Unis, 1944–1952. 36. See, for example: Marshall (Secretary of Defense), ‘Memorandum to the Joint Chiefs of Staff’, 19 March 1951, in George Marshall (ed. Mark A. Stoler), The Papers of George Catlett Marshall: “The Man of the Age,” October 1, 1949–October 16, 1959 (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 2016), pp. 439–450. 37. Présidence du Conseil, ‘La Conférence Militaire de Malte’, 26 February 1951, Box 313, MAE B-Amérique, 1944–1952: Politique Extérieure: Relations Etats Unis-Grande Bretagne. 38. Couve de Murville, ‘La politique américaine en Extrême-Orient’, 22 pp., 9 February 1949, Box 17, MAE Série Y Affaires Politiques Etats-Unis, 1944–1952. On Britain and the Middle East, see David Devereux, ‘Bri- tain, the Commonwealth and the Defence of the Middle East, 1948–56’, Journal of Contemporary History, Vol. 24, No. 2, April 1989, pp. 327– 345. 39. ORE (CIA), ‘The Break-Up of the Colonial Empires and Its Implications for US Security’, 3 September 1948, ORE 25-48, PSF CIA, Box 214, Truman Library. 230 A. J. WILLIAMS

40. Kal J. Holsti, ‘National Role Conceptions in the Study of Foreign Pol- icy’, International Studies Quarterly, Vol. 14, No. 3, September 1970, pp. 233–309. 41. John Foster Dulles, ‘Can We Guarantee a Free Europe?’, Collier’s,No. 121, 12 June 1948: Box 14, MAE Série Y Affaires Politiques Etats-Unis, 1944–1949. See Chapter 4, p. 132. 42. For more on this, see Williams, Failed Imagination, pp. 95–98. 43. SDECE, ‘Etats-Unis’, 17 July 1947: File 308, B-Amérique, 1944–1949; Bonnet to Schuman, 6 August 1948, Box 17, MAE Série Y Affaires Politiques Etats-Unis, 1944–1952. 44. ‘The “Big Three” Alliance’, 19 July 1954, Box 7, John Foster Dulles Papers, Eisenhower Library. 45. An excellent, and comparative survey of the British and French with- drawals from empire is: Thomas, Fight or Flight, op. cit. which has chapters on all of the major theatres. 46. ‘The “Big Three” Alliance’, 19 July 1954, doc. cit. supra. 47. ORE (CIA), ‘The Break-Up of the Colonial Empires and Its Implications for US Security’, doc. cit. supra; Erez Manela, The Wilsonian Moment: Self-Determination and the International Origins of Anticolonial Nation- alism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009). 48. See Derek Heater, National Self-Determination: Woodrow Wilson and His Legacy (London: Macmillan, 1994), p. 78; and Alfred Cobban, National Self-Determination (Oxford: University Press/RIIA, 1945), p. 28. 49. Cobban, National Self-Determination, p. 124; Churchill to FDR, 21 May 1944, FDR Papers, Box 24, Roosevelt Library. Lansing is here being quoted in: Arthur Walworth, America’s Moment: 1918 (New York: Norton and Co., 1963), p. 80 50. My translation of ‘une prima donna mûrissante, qui a perdu le plus clair de sa voix, mais a encore un reste de tempérament et de prestige, et reçoit du public des applaudissements respectueux mais sans enthousiasme’: Con- stantine Brown, Evening Star ‘Les Nerfs de la France’, 1 April 1954, Dossier Général, AM 1952–1963, Etats-Unis, File 92QO/349. 51. Bonnet, ‘Note sur Charles Bohlen’, 14 December 1948, Box 16, and SDECE, ‘Modiﬁcation du rôle de l’Ambassadeur des U.S.A. en France’, 28 April 1949, Box 17, MAE Série Y Affaires Politiques Etats-Unis, 1944–1948. See also Chapter 4, pp. 135–136. 52. ‘Le problème Allemand et la Conférence de Londres – Position Améri- cain’ 10 May 1950, MAE B-Amérique 1944–1952. On ‘military advisors’ see Bonnet to Bidault, 4 June 1948, Box 14, MAE Série Y Affaires Politiques Etats-Unis, 1944–1949. 53. Thomas, Fight or Flight, pp. 85–89. 5 UNRELIABLE ALLIES: EMPIRE, 1952–1958 231

54. CIA, ‘The Current Situation in France’, ORE-64, 31 December 1947: PSF CIA, 1946–1947, Box 214, Truman Library. 55. Department of State ‘Policy Information Statement’, 15 September 1946; Memorandum for the President, ‘Economic Assistance for France’, 20 November 1951: PSF, ‘France-General’, Box 155, Truman Library. See also Logevall, Embers of War, Chapter 9, ‘East Meets West, 1949– 1953’. 56. ‘Meeting of President Truman and President Auriol’, 29 March 1951, PSF, ‘France-General’, Box 155, Truman Library. 57. Bruce (Paris) to Acheson and Webb, 16 September 1950, PSF, ‘France- General’, Box 155, Truman Library. On budget problems, see for example ‘Increase in Defense Expenditures of France and Italy in Fiscal Year 1952 Made Possible by U.S. Economic Aid’, n.d., 1951, Box 42, WHCF: Confidential File: State Department Correspondence, Truman Library. 58. ‘Oral Report: Memorandum of Conversation [with Ambassador Jessup], by Mr. Charlton Ogburn, Policy Information Officer, Bureau of Far East- ern Affairs’: Foreign Relations of the United States, 1950, East Asia and the Pacific, Vol. VI (Washington: Office of the Historian, 1977). 59. ‘Relations avec l’indochine Française’, n.d., 1950; ‘Memorandum of a Conversation at the Quai d’Orsay, Paris, 13 March 1950’; Quai d’Orsay, ‘Note: U.S.A.’ [on Jessup’s visit to Indochina], 17 April 1950, Box 308, MAE, B-Amérique, 1944–1952 (9QO/308). 60. CIA, ‘Indochina: Current Situation and Probable Developments’, 29 December 1950, NIE-5; ‘Probable Developments in Indochina During the Remainder of 1951’, 7 August 1951, NIE-35: PSF CIA Reports, Box 213, Truman Library. 61. ‘Etats-Unis-Indochine: Entrevue de M. David Bruce aux E-U’, 6 November 1950, Box 308, MAE, B-Amérique, 1944–1952. 62. ‘Voyage de Bidault et Mayer aux Etats-Unis’, 25–27 March 1953, MAE, Vol. 348, AM 1952–1963. 63. ‘Voyage de Bidault et Mayer…’, Bonnet to Bidault, 8 April 1953 [in which he states that Mayer had asked him to tell Dulles]; Francois-Poncet to Bidault, 30 March 1953, AM 1952–1963. 64. Brière (Chicago) to Bonnet, 13 August, Chicago Tribune 10 August 1953; in Bonnet to Bidault, 1 September 1953: Vol. 348, AM 1952– 1963. 65. Bertrand (Los Angeles) to Bonnet, 6 August, Los Angeles Times, in Bon- net to Bidault, 1 September 1953: Vol. 348, AM 1952–1963. 66. The Detroit Times and the Cleveland News, 6 and 7 October 1953, Vol. 348, AM 1952–1963. 67. Bonnet (Washington) to Bidault (Paris), New York Times of 21 Septem- ber, 10 September 1953, Vol. 348, AM 1952–1963. 232 A. J. WILLIAMS

68. John Foster Dulles, ‘Memorandum of Telephone Conversation[s] with the President’, 29 and 30 June 1953, Dulles Papers, Subject Files, ‘Bermuda Conference: Foreign Ministers’ Meeting’, Box 1, Eisenhower Library. See also John Young, ‘The Western Summit at Bermuda, December 1953’, in David Dunn (ed.), Diplomacy at the Highest Level (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 1996), p. 165. 69. ‘Points developed at conference at J. F. Dulles’ house’, 7 June 1953: Dulles Papers, Subject Files, ‘Bermuda’, Box 1, Eisenhower Library. 70. ‘Outline of U.S. Policies: Bermuda’, Dulles Papers, Subject Files, ‘Ber- muda’, Box 1. 71. An excellent online source for the Geneva Conference of 1954 has been produced by the Wilson Center in Washington DC: https:// digitalarchive.wilsoncenter.org/collection/7/geneva-conference-of- 1954 (accessed 5 August 2019). 72. AMBA France to MAE (telegram) ‘Chute du Cabinet Laniel’, 15 June 1954, Press Review (Washington) of 20 June 1954, which was slightly more positive about Mendès France, AM 1952–1963, Vol. 349. 73. ‘The “Big Three’ Alliance’, 19 July 1954, Box 7, John Foster Dulles Papers, Eisenhower Library. Doc. cit. supra. 74. Jean Belliard (Detroit) 17 June 1954; Victor Riesel in the Oakland Tri- bune of 26 and 27 July 1954; Bonnet to MAE with Gallup results, 13 September 1954; AM 1952–1963, Vol. 349. 75. A very short selection might include; Martin Thomas, Fight or Flight,op. cit; Alistair Horne, A Savage War of Peace: Algeria 1954–1962 (New York: New York Review Books Classics, 2006); Jennifer Sessions, By Sword and Plow: France and the Conquest of Algeria (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2014); and Matthew Connelly, A Diplomatic Revolu- tion: Algeria’s Fight for Independence and the Origins of the Post-Cold War Era (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003). 76. ORE ‘The Current Situation in North Africa’, ORE-63, 18 December 1947; CIA, 1946–1947, ‘Probable Development in North Africa’, NIE- 69, 12 September 1952: PSF, Boxes 213–214, Truman Library. 77. De Murville (Washington) to MAE, 4 January 1956, Box 350, Dossier Général, AM 1952–1963, Etats-Unis. 78. Charles Lucet (Washington), ‘Note sur la politique Américaine en Afrique du Nord’, 1956 (n.d., possibly October), Box 351, Dossier Général, AM 1952–1963, Etats-Unis. 79. Barry Rubin, ‘America and the Egyptian Revolution, 1950–1957’, Polit- ical Science Quarterly, Vol. 97, No. 1, Spring 1982, pp. 73–90. 80. Du Chayla (Cairo) to top embassies, 13 January 1956, and replies from Ankara, Damascus, Tripoli, even Tokyo, all January 1956; ‘Note pour le Ministre’, from the Directeur Générale Politique Amérique, 28 January 1956: Box 350, Dossier Général, AM 1952–1963, Etats-Unis. 5 UNRELIABLE ALLIES: EMPIRE, 1952–1958 233

81. Gary (Los Angeles) to de Murville and MAE, 8 February 1956: Box 350, Dossier Général, AM 1952–1963, Etats-Unis. This ﬁle for 1955–1956 is full of such reports from Consuls and de Murville. 82. ‘Note d’Information’, issued by the French Embassy in Washington to all French Consuls in the USA, 22 May 1956, Box 350, Dossier Général, AM 1952–1963, Etats-Unis. 83. Keith Kyle, Suez: Britain’s End of Empire in the Middle East (London: I.B. Tauris, 2011, new updated edition), quoted in R. Gerald Hughes, The Post War Legacy of Appeasement: British Foreign Policy Since 1945 (London: Bloomsbury, 2014), p. 49. 84. Sidney Aster, ‘Appeasement: Before and After Revisionism’, Diplomacy and Statecraft, Vol. 19, No. 3, 2008, pp. 443–480. The relevant volume of FRUS is: Foreign Relations of the United States, 1955–1957, Suez Cri- sis, July 26–December 31, 1956, Vol. XVI (Washington: United States Government Printing Ofﬁce, 1990). 85. Dulles to Nehru (via Mehta, Indian Ambassador in Washington), 16 September 1956, Box 7, Subject Files, Dulles Papers, Eisenhower Library. 86. More recently: Kyle, Suez: Britain’s End of Empire in the Middle East; Simon Smith, Reassessing Suez 1956: New Perspectives on the Crisis and Its Aftermath (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2008); and David A. Nicols, Eisenhower 1956: The President’s Year of Crisis – Suez and the Brink of War (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2012). 87. Ambrose, Eisenhower, pp. 422–425. 88. Eisenhower to Eden, 30 October 1956, Box 7, Dulles Papers, Subject Files. 89. ‘Thoughts on a “Big Three” Meeting’, 11 November 1956 and [n.d.] November 1956, Box 7, Dulles Papers, Subject Files. 90. Dulles Memo, 19 September 1956 and Dulles meeting with Senate For- eign Relations Committee 27 September 1956 Box 7, Dulles Papers, Subject Files. 91. Eden to Eisenhower, 16 January 1956, Box 11, Dulles Subject Files. 92. Dillon (Paris) to Dulles, 21 September 1956, Box 7, Dulles Subject Files 93. Diréction Générale Politique (Amérique), ‘Note pour le Cabinet du Ministre’ (Pineau), 20 November 1956; and ‘L’attitude américaine aux initiatives prises par les Franco-britanniques en Egypte, 28 November 1956, Box 351, MAE, AM 1952–1963, Etats-Unis. Basdevant was made the Director of the Institut du Monde Arabe in 1980, and had a distinguished career at the Quai, including as Ambassador to Algiers (1968–1971), https://www.lemonde.fr/archives/article/1980/10/ 27/m-jean-basdevant-est-elu-president-du-conseil-d-administration-de- l-institut-du-monde-arabe_2811221_1819218.html (accessed 29 June 2019). 234 A. J. WILLIAMS

94. Garret Martin, General de Gaulle’s Cold War: Challenging American Hegemony, 1963–1968 (Oxford: Berghahn, 2013); C. Neuenlist, A. Locher and G. Martin et al. (eds.), Globalizing de Gaulle: International Perspectives on French Foreign Policies, 1958–1969 (Lanham: Lexington Books, 2010); Gadi Heiman, ‘A Hot Summer: France, Israel, and the Middle East Crisis in 1958’ Chapter 10. 95. He passed the Fourth Republic’s record for Prime Ministers on 3 March. 96. ‘Voyage official de Guy Mollet, 24 February to 5 March 1957’, including ‘Note pour l’Ambassadeur’, 7 February 1957, Robert Pontillon (Gérard Jacquet’s Chef de Cabinet at the Overseas Ministry), Mollet Papers, AGM 77, ‘Politique Etrangère, 1956–1957’, OURS, Paris. 97. Alphand to Pineau, 6 and 14 September 1956, Box 351, MAE, AM 1952–1963, Etats-Unis. 98. ‘Voyage official de Guy Mollet, 24 February to 5 March 1957’: ‘Note à attention de M. le Président du Conseil’, 12 February 1957, Emile Noël, (Mollet’s Chef de Cabinet) about the film, 19 February 1957, and other files: Mollet Papers, AGM 77, ‘Politique Etrangère, 1956–1957’, SFIO Archives, Paris. 99. Or Rosenboim thinks it was Lattimore, in The Emergence of Globalism, p. 92, Alfred Sauvy certainly used the term in L’Observateur.Onthatsee B. R. Tomlinson, ‘What Was the Third World?’, Journal of Contemporary History, Vol 38, No. 203, pp. 307–321. 100. Albert Camus, L’Etranger (Paris: Gallimard, 1942); La Peste (Paris: Gal- limard, 1947); and La Chute (Paris: Gallimard, 1957). An excellent summary of his thought can be found in: Patrick Hayden, Camus and the Challenge of Political Thought: Between Despair and Hope (London: Pal- grave Macmillan, 2016). 101. Julian Baggini, How the World Thinks: A Global History of Philoso- phy (London: Granta, 2018); Jean-Paul Sartre, L’existentialisme est un humanisme (Paris: Broché/ellipses, 2018), first published 1946; and Sarah Bakewell, At the Existentialist Café: Freedom, Being and Apricot Cocktails (London: Vintage, 2017). 102. A good summary of Weil’s thinking on the subject can be found in: Simone Weil, Contre le colonialisme (Paris: Payot, 2018), introduced by Valérie Gérard. Not to be confused with the French politician who survived Auschwitz of the same name, Weil is widely believed to have starved herself to death out of sorrow that de Gaulle could find no place for her undoubted talents in the Free French organisation in London. See David McLellan, Utopian Pessimist: The Life and Thought of Simone Weil (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 1990); and Simone Pétrement, La viedeSimoneWeil; Avec des lettres et d’autres textes inédits de Simone Weil (Paris: Fayard, 1997). 5 UNRELIABLE ALLIES: EMPIRE, 1952–1958 235

103. Ronald Aronson, Camus and Sartre: The Story of a Friendship and the Quarrel That Ended It (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004), pp. 208–210, 221–225. 104. Weil, Contre le colonialisme, pp. 35 and 47. 105. George Orwell, Burmese Days (London: Gollancz, 1935 and London: Penguin, 1944), p. 21. 106. Aimé Césaire, Discours sur le colonialisme (Paris: Présence Africaine, 1955); Frantz Fanon, Les Damnés de la terre (Paris: François Maspéro, 1961) Trans.: The Wretched of the Earth (New York: Grove Weidenfield, 1963). 107. We might cite, from the period covered by this book, Rachel Carson, Silent Spring (New York: Houghton Mifflin, 1962). 108. Quentin Skinner (ed.), The Return of Grand Theory in the Human Sci- ences (Cambridge: Canto/Cambridge University Press, 2000), p. 12. 109. For an exploration of how the ‘subaltern voice’ is repressed in much Western literature on imperialism, see Homi Bhaba, The Location of Cul- ture (London: Routledge, 1984); and Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, ‘Can the Subaltern Speak?’, in C. Nelson and L. Grossman (eds.) Marxism and the Interpretation of Culture (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1988). See also Stephen Howe (ed.), The New Imperial Histories Reader (London: Routledge, 2010). 110. Thomas McCarthy, Race, Empire and the Idea of Human Development (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009). 111. Aronson, Camus and Sartre, p. 209; and Raymond Aron, La Tragédie algérienne (Paris: Plon, 1957). 112. In the words of the American Office of the Historian: ‘the Char- ter ultimately did serve as an inspiration for colonial subjects throughout the Third World, from Algeria to Vietnam, as they fought for independence’. FRUS (online), The Atlantic Conference & Charter, 1941, https://history.state.gov/milestones/1937-1945/ atlantic-conf (accessed 6 August 2019). 113. McCarthy, Race, Empire and the Idea of Human Development, pp. 3–4. 114. Mélanie Torrent, Diplomacy and Nation-Building in Africa: Franco- British Relations and Cameroon at the End of Empire (London: I.B. Tauris, 2012). 115. Maya Jasonoff, Liberty’s Exiles: The Loss of America and the Remaking of the British Empire (London: HarperCollins, 2012), especially, pp. 178– 180, and Chapter 6. Daniel Gorman, Imperial Citizenship: Empire and the Question of Belonging,op.cit. 116. Neil Smith, American Empire: Roosevelt’s Geographer and the Prelude to Globalization (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2004), pp. 15– 16. 236 A. J. WILLIAMS

117. David C. Engerman, ‘The Romance of Economic Development and New Histories of the Cold War’, Diplomatic History, Vol. 28, No. 1, January 2004, pp. 23–54. A useful summary of American policies to promote growth in developing countries is: Thomas Seitz, The Evolving Role of Nation-Building in US Foreign Policy: Lessons Learned, Lessons Lost (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2015). 118. David C. Engerman, Know Your Enemy: The Rise and Fall of America’s Soviet Experts (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009) 119. E. H. Carr, The Soviet Impact on the Western World (London: Macmillan, 1946). For a full assessment of Carr’s Soviet views, see Jonathan Haslam, The Vices of Integrity: E.H. Carr, 1892–1982 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000). 120. E. H. Carr, The Future of Nations: Independence or Interdependence? (London: K. Paul, Trench, Trubner & Co., 1941). 121. Michael Cox, ‘Will the Real E.H. Carr Please Stand Up?’, a review of Haslam, The Vices of Integrity: International Affairs, Vol. 75, No. 3, July 1999, pp. 643–653. 122. See, especially, James E. Webb, Undersecretary, ‘Recommendations of the Interdepartmental Trade Agreements Committee’ 6 April 1949, Folder 1 ‘Trade Agreements, 1949’, 11 April 1949, WHCF, Box 52. For Torquay (21 April 1951) see Folder 11, Box 56, Truman Library. 123. Cf. Chapter 2, on ‘Collaboration’; Jan T. Gross, ‘Themes for a Social History of War Experience and Collaboration’, in István Deák, Jan T. Gross, and Tony Judt (eds.), The Politics of Retribution in Europe: World War I and Its Aftermath (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000), pp. 24–25. 124. Martin Evans, ‘Reprisal Violence and the Harkis in French Algeria, 1962’, The International History Review, Vol. 39, No. 1, 2017, pp. 89– 106. 125. Henri Cartier-Bresson, Le Retour [‘The Reunion’] (1946): https:// www.imdb.com/title/tt0122226/ (accessed 6 August 2019). 126. David Drake, ‘The “Anti-Existentialist Offensive”: The French Commu- nist Party against Sartre (1944–1948)’, Sartre Studies International,Vol. 16, No. 1 (2010), pp. 69–94; and Jean-Paul Sartre, Les Mains Sales (Paris: Gallimard, 1972) – ﬁrst performed in 1948. 127. Frantz Fanon, Les damnés de la terre, op. cit. Fanon died in the year Les damnés de la terre was published in 1961, at the height of the war. 128. Albert Camus, Le premier homme (Paris: Gallimard, 1994). 129. Martin Thomas, Fight or Flight,op.cit.,andThe French North African Crisis: Colonial Breakdown and Anglo-French Relations, 1945– 1962 (London: Palgrave-Macmillan, 2000); and Torrent, Diplomacy and Nation-Building in Africa op. cit. and British Decolonisation (1919– 1984), op. cit. 5 UNRELIABLE ALLIES: EMPIRE, 1952–1958 237

130. David French, ‘Toads and Informers: How the British Treated Their Col- laborators During the Cyprus Emergency, 1955–9’, The International History Review, Vol. 39, No. 1, 2017, pp. 71–88; and Evans, ‘Reprisal Violence and the Harkis in French Algeria, 1962’, op. cit. 131. David Anderson, Histories of the Hanged: The Dirty War in Kenya and the End of Empire (New York: Norton, 2005); Caroline Elkins Britain’s Gulag: The Brutal End of the Empire in Kenya (London: Jonathan Cape, 2005); Kwarteng, Ghosts of Empire, op. cit.; Joanna Lewis, ‘Nasty, Brutish and in Shorts? British Colonial Rule, Violence and the Historians of Mau Mau’, The Round Table, Vol. 96, No. 389, 2007, pp. 201–223. 132. Couve de Murville to MAE, recounting the interviews published by Max Clos in the New York Times, 14 May 1956, Box 350, Dossier Général, AM 1952–1963, Etats-Unis. CHAPTER 6

Conclusion: De Gaulle and the Anglo-Saxons, 1958–1961

Introduction

As a way of concluding this volume, this chapter will look at some of the factors that moulded American, British and French attitudes towards each other in the period after de Gaulle becomes French President in 1958 until 1961, the ﬁrst year of the Kennedy Administration. We will revisit some of the earlier debates about Europe, Empire, the ongoing problems of the Cold War and the nature of American power. This volume thus covers the period between the fall of France in 1940 and the arrival of President Kennedy in the White House in early 1961. A further volume would be needed to do justice to the unfolding of the war in Algeria, which went into its most decisive stage in January 1960 with the refusal of French settlers to countenance de Gaulle’s decision to negotiate with the Front de Libération National (FLN). It would also be impossible to do justice here to the debates on the Vietnam War, the American phase of which really starts with the Gulf of Tonkin incident of 2 August 1964. Many American military advisors were already present in South Vietnam before that date, authorised by President Kennedy in May 1961, and their numbers reached over 11,000 by the time of his assassination in November 1963.1 French foreign policy towards Vietnam after 1964 never ceased to irritate both Presidents Kennedy and Johnson and have had some very good analyses.2 Further,

© The Author(s) 2020 239 A. J. Williams, France, Britain and the United States in the Twentieth Century: Volume 2, 1940–1961, Studies in Diplomacy and International Relations, https://doi.org/10.1057/978-1-137-41444-1_6 240 A. J. WILLIAMS to extend the framework of this volume beyond the early 1960s would involve a deal of commentary on the issue of European integration and Western security (especially as concerns NATO), with French (by which is usually meant Charles de Gaulle’s) actions often infuriating the United States.3 But the roots of all these disagreements can be discerned as early as 1961, and this chapter will show how they developed into the first year of the Kennedy Administration. The arrival of John Fitzgerald Kennedy in the White House in Jan- uary 1961 signalled a change of the political generations that had hitherto ruled in the West. In the same way that we are able to talk about there having been a ‘generation of 1914’ who then determined the politics and economics of the period after the First World War, we can see the emergence of a ‘generation of 1945’ who dominated the politics and economics of the period after the Second World War.4 After the First World War a generation of men (and it was overwhelmingly male) experimented with often drastic new forms of nationalism and economics. Sometimes that led to national socialism, sometimes to communism and sometimes to liberal democracy, the apotheosis of which was the Second World War. At the end of that war it was still possible to see the overwhelming influence of the original ‘generation of 1914’, for most of the leaders of the Western states had either fought in it, or been marked by it and by the subsequent years of the Depression. By the date that marks the end of this volume that was no longer so true, except in one particular case. Harold Macmillan, British Prime Minister from 1956 to 1963, served in the Grenadier Guards in the First World War and was an important politician in the Second, and in Cabinet and Opposition after it.5 When he stepped down in 1964 he could reasonably claim to have ushered in a new generation of leader in Britain. Grandees like him were not to be seen again in British politics. His acquaintance with those of his own generation who had fought or been active in two world wars, such as Eisenhower and Dulles, had marked the national relationships of their respective countries.6 As for de Gaulle, he had known Eisenhower in war and peace, as he had Churchill, who had stepped down from power in 1955. The emergence of a new generation, epitomised by the youthful President Kennedy, upset Eisenhower. He saw Kennedy as a lightweight, and he was ‘appalled’ by the Kennedy-Johnson ticket in 1960.7 Macmil- lan’s biographer Alistair Horne remarked that: ‘[w]ith the retirement of [German Chancellor Konrad] Adenauer in October [1964], the death 6 CONCLUSION: DE GAULLE AND THE ANGLO-SAXONS, 1958–1961 241 of Kennedy made him realise that – had he stayed on – he would have been the leader of the Western world. Now only de Gaulle remained, supreme.’8 As for de Gaulle, he was to dominate French and indeed global politics until he resigned on 28 April 1969 after he lost a referendum on the relatively minor issue of a constitutional amendment. He had made the Fifth Republic after May 1958 in his own image, a presidential regime, rather than the parliamentary regime of the Fourth Republic, and had been hoping to take that reform further. But it is his political stance, one that led him to take up positions on the most important questions of the day, that still captivates the student of international politics. De Gaulle has taken on an almost mythical character since his death in 1970, fed by institutions such as the Institut Charles de Gaulle and a host of supporters and detractors.9 ‘Gaullism’ has become a category of political action that has inspired many beyond France. Matt Kramer defines it as ‘an adjective denoting France’s bid to reassert itself as a great power with global interests separate from those of NATO and the United States.’10 The first of these interests articulated itself in de Gaulle’s different vision of the role of the state after the Second World War than that envisaged by the Anglo- Saxon powers. In a discourse that we have shown the United States largely dictated during the war and after it, the state was supposed to cede more and more sovereignty to international organisations, themselves set up or largely encouraged by the United States . The process of European integration was the result of one facet of that American project, to be sure supported by growing numbers of Europeans, though that support has always been contingent on circumstance and country of origin. Second, the Bretton Woods organisations, as well as the EEC, provided a new framework to simultaneously control and direct the role of markets and to again subvert the hitherto sovereign role of the state. As Susan Strange has aptly said, ‘states and markets’ are the key to understanding political economy, and arguably politics tout court.11 Third, the United States made the successful attempt to replace the previous political and economic international structures of previous great powers (especially Britain), ones that had relied on imperial connections.12 Although there were endogenous reasons why colonised peoples freed themselves from the imperial yoke, and also why colonising powers were no longer willing or able to shoulder the ‘white man’s burden’, the United States had provided much sustenance for that decolonising impulse. This was 242 A. J. WILLIAMS a sustenance that had started with Woodrow Wilson’s concept of ‘self- determination’ in 1919 and continued with the 1941 Atlantic Charter and the establishment of the United Nations. It was also one that had left many colonial peoples confused about whether they were replacing one known colonial master with another, the United States.13 Previous chapters have traced the often-rocky relationship of the French with Britain and the United States during the Second World War and its aftermath and during the 1950s. This chapter will thus build on, and to a certain extent revisit, that foundation to show how during the late 1950s and the early 1960s, the final years of the Eisenhower Adminis- tration and the beginning of that of Kennedy, saw many of those tensions and exchanges came to full fruition during the long decade of French history dominated by de Gaulle’s Fifth Republic. It is worth isolating that period as it was seminal for both the rehabilitation of France as a significant power and for showing up the first clear signs of the decline of absolute American hegemony over what could increasingly be called ‘the West’. Even before President Lyndon Baines Johnson started to deploy ever-increasing numbers of American military personnel in Vietnam, de Gaulle was contemplating upsetting American ambitions in Europe and more widely. The refusal of de Gaulle to countenance British membership of the EEC, which was a key goal of both the Eisenhower and Kennedy Administrations was a particular disappointment.

Dealing with de Gaulle

Much of the perception of growing Franco-American (as well as Anglo- French) animosity in the 1960s has featured in analyses of de Gaulle, ‘Le grand Charles’, who has often been portrayed, as by Garret Mar- tin, as ‘the scourge of Atlantic unity and the biggest threat to Ameri- can leadership of the Western Alliance in an era still dominated by the Cold War.’14 Carolyne Davison has called the problem of ‘dealing with de Gaulle’ a disproportionate and unanticipated problem, an ‘onslaught [on] U.S. strategy … from de Gaulle for decades’, and that at a time when in realist terms the United States was at the height of its global power. Eisenhower had been a staunch supporter of the Western Alliance, transformed by the creation of NATO in Washington in April 1949, from the moment he landed in England in June 1942 to organise the invasion of Europe – ‘his commitment to the Alliance became legendary’.15 6 CONCLUSION: DE GAULLE AND THE ANGLO-SAXONS, 1958–1961 243

It is nonetheless true that his commitment to the Anglo-American relationship had been called into severe question by his refusal to sanc- tion the Suez invasion of 1956 (as we saw in Chapter 5, pp. 211–216). British Prime Minister Anthony Eden’s resignation in January 1957 had enabled Macmillan to repair a lot of the damage done, with Macmillan addressing cables to ‘Friend’, and signing them ‘Harold’, while Eisen- hower is always ‘Ike’, ‘Foster’ is always used for Dulles. A very different tone also entered into the discussions. As 1957 and 1958 wore on discussions about the Middle East, and especially about Nasser, also con- verged. Eisenhower now referred to Nasser as whipping up trouble and how he had the ‘idolatrous support of the largely illiterate populations in the region’. His doctrine of ‘nationalism … [was] one force stronger than communism’, which Eisenhower admitted he had failed to recognise properly. Anglo-American military cooperation in Jordan and Iraq (where Macmillan told Eisenhower there was ‘the real problem’) had firmed up too.16 The cynic that lurks in every student of international politics might suggest that this was false bonhomie but in this case it does not seem to have been. From the outset of his premiership Macmillan had stated he was not going to grovel to the United States, there would be no ‘pilgrim- age to Canossa’. Eisenhower had reciprocated immediately and a meeting was arranged in Bermuda in the Spring of 1957 where the two statesmen dropped in to see each other in their pyjamas in a true sign of boyish friendship.17 For France the period after Suez was dominated by the growing problems in Algeria, which culminated in General Raoul Salan, who com- manded French troops in Algeria,18 calling for de Gaulle to be made French President, and was to rumble on till the Evian Accords of March 1962.19 Before de Gaulle’s return in June 1958, the American and British impression was, rightly, of a France in a state of quasi-disintegration. The French problems in Algeria risked spreading to the whole of French North Africa , thought Dulles in late 1957. The worry in Washington was that the Russians would attempt to take advantage of this disarray, providing arms to the Tunisians that could then be used on the French. This was also reflected in Macmillan’s wry comment of March 1958 that the French seemed to be talking directly to the Russians without consultation with Britain: ‘For once we were left out of this Russian correspondence. I do not know why but I am not at all jealous’.20 De Gaulle, by mid-1958 back in power, was a figure about whom all American presidents had their reservations. We have seen that Roosevelt distrusted and disliked de Gaulle. Truman was not quite so trenchant but 244 A. J. WILLIAMS he tended to follow Roosevelt’s lead on France. As we shall see below (pp. 256–257), Eisenhower was not viscerally hostile to de Gaulle, whom he could approach as one old soldier to another. But it is evident that de Gaulle, in his two periods of presidential power (1944–1946 and 1958– 1969) constantly irritated the British and American Governments with his desire to create a different Europe to that envisaged by policy makers in both London and Washington. De Gaulle was emphatic about this in his Mémoires d’Espoir. Much as he disliked the ‘Soviet domination’ of Eastern Europe he equally disliked the ‘system of two blocs and the iron curtain’. What, he asked, now stood in the way of a France, and a Europe, that was ‘alive, sovereign and victorious [vivante, souveraine et victorieuse]’, one that for the first time in its recent history had no real enemies? The principal issue was the division of Europe by the Soviet Union with their ‘supranational’ ideology, matched by the United States, and its ‘passion for the NATO Alliance [la passion pour l’Organisation atlantique]’. Both ‘put the security, and as a consequence the political, life of our country in the hands of others [la sécurité, par conséquent la politique, de notre pays àladiscrétiond’unautre]’. Why not have a Europe ‘from the Atlantic to the Urals [entre l’Atlantique et l’Oural]’ within which France and Ger- many would provide a strong and friendly alliance? He asked Chancellor Konrad Adenauer to support this vision in their first meeting of 14–15 September 1958.21 Martin points out that de Gaulle ‘never clearly spelt out’ what he meant by this and other vague terms, as with his aim for a ‘European Europe’. But for Martin the distinctive feature of Gaullist foreign policy was his intention to keep ‘his allies second guessing about his ultimate intentions, much to their frustration’.22 DeGaullewantedtobe an enigma and has succeeded in that aim, to the point that every subsequent President of the Fifth Republic has been able to evoke his shade in their foreign policy, no matter how tenuously linked to the General they may be ideologically. The explanation of this has much to do with his continuing sense of humiliation after 1940 and his exit from government in January 1946. The simultaneous absence of Roosevelt (after he died in April 1945) and de Gaulle, saw the latter sent off into exile to splutter ‘like Captain Had- dock’ (a reference to the bilious companion of comic character Tintin) over his continuing indignation at the perfidious Americans and British.23 But his departure had also meant that diplomacy was able to resume its normal course. That period, until de Gaulle resumed the reins of French Government on 1 June 1958 (first as Prime Minister under President 6 CONCLUSION: DE GAULLE AND THE ANGLO-SAXONS, 1958–1961 245

René Coty, and then as President of the Fifth Republic on 8 January 1959), was the main focus of Chapters 4 and 5. Once he resumed what he saw as his rightful place in French government de Gaulle made a disproportionate impact on global politics, often by sheer force of personality but also by shrewd political manoeuvre. There is not space to go into what Lacouture and Jackson have termed de Gaulle’s ‘18th Bru- maire’ (though Lacouture uses the term ‘17th’).24 Whether he was the instigator or merely beneficiary of a ‘coup’ in Algeria in 1958 by Gen- eral Salan, de Gaulle finished off the tottering Fourth Republic, which had arguably only staggered on from the humiliation of 1940 that it had inherited from the Third Republic in 1945. That had been compounded by the secondary Suez humiliation of 1956, and since then, as Lacou- ture puts it, ‘the French had lived in a state of bitter frustration, blaming their unfortunate governors.’25 De Gaulle’s sonorous phrase, issued to an adoring crowd in Algiers on 4 June 1958 that ‘I have understood you [Je vous ai compris]’ made much the same impression as his statement of 18 June 1940 on the BBC, and that of 25 August 1944 in the streetsofParis–‘Paris outragé, Paris brisé, Paris martyrisé, mais Paris libéré’. In Mauriac’s admittedly hagiographic phrase of 1964, thanks to de Gaulle ‘France… had emerged intact from a shame she had not known in a thousand years [la France … est sortie intacte d’une honte telle qu’elle n’en avait pas connu en mille ans d’histoire].’26 De Gaulle had been the only real voice pushing back against American and British foreign policy demands during and after the Second World War. This had set the scene for his ongoing irritation of American foreign policy throughout the war, when France was too weak to have much effect, as well as into the later 1950s and 1960s when both the United States and its (generally) loyal ally the United Kingdom were increasingly enfeebled, though by no means down and out. De Gaulle’s return to power in 1958 did not immediately lead to fireworks in the American relationship with France, but it was strained by a series of international crises, of which the erection of the Berlin Wall in August 196127 was but the first. Mostly these affected Kennedy, whom Soviet General Sec- retary Nikita Khruschev saw as a weak link in the Western chain, mainly due to his relative inexperience. Although his testing by Khruschev was most difficult in what turned out to be the mid-point of his Presidency, with the nerve-wracking Cuban Missile Crisis of October 1962, Kennedy was to develop a warm relationship with British Prime Minister Harold Macmillan , and a surprisingly close one with Charles de Gaulle. 246 A. J. WILLIAMS

De Gaulle, 1944–1958 De Gaulle had learnt his role as a global statesman in a hard school, that of defeat and humiliation. After the war ended, as a French intelligence report of 1946 pointed out, ‘the objectives of wartime’ had been replaced ‘by the normal objectives of diplomacy based on force’, usually deployed by the United States or Soviet Russia.28 De Gaulle was adept at playing the relatively few cards at his disposal with great aplomb, not least by his use of the word ‘non’ and trying to play off the two Superpowers, plus Britain, against each other. It is important to ask if his character was as significant a factor in his relationship with world leaders after 1946, or 1958, as it was during the war. De Gaulle has fascinated many historians and commentators within the broader field of IR. We could again quote Holsti, already mentioned in the context of Dulles, as one of the originators of the idea of ‘national role conceptions’, often expressed through key policy makers. Hol- sti describes de Gaulle as having been a ‘balancer’: ‘President de Gaulle … often alluded to France’s special responsibilities for creating some kind of new force between the “two hegemonies”’. For example: ‘“France must be independent so that she can play her own role in the world. Toward what goal? Toward the goal of balance, of progress, of peace”. On other occasions de Gaulle stated that France was moving to the forefront of the world with the task of “bringing balance to a divided globe. France’s vocation and task are the world’s balance, so that each people has the place it wants to have”’.29 But was he really such a ‘balancer’, or was he rather, in Martin’s words, ‘possessed of some grand design’? Martin points to at least three schools of thought on this question: one that just sees him as renewing France’s faith in itself; another that his aim was to establish France as a dominant European actor and a third as pursuing ‘an ambitious and genuine attempt to overcome the bipolar Cold War order’.30 It is easy to interpret his sayings and actions with a combination of all three of these approaches. Maybe he would be better remembered as a ‘disruptor’, or a leader of a status quo power that nonetheless wished to revise the system with which he broadly speaking agreed and benefitted from? His wish to be a regional leader probably makes him a suitable subject for the idea of ‘power transition theory’ a key realist idea of the 1950s and since.31 As noted the individual politicians and policy makers we have discussed hitherto during the Second World War had many of the same features 6 CONCLUSION: DE GAULLE AND THE ANGLO-SAXONS, 1958–1961 247 making up their world view. They faced a different set of challenges after that war, ones usually summed up as those of the ‘Cold War ’, which included the possibility of mutual nuclear annihilation. The years between 1952, the year that Eisenhower became President of the United States and 1963, the year of Kennedy’s assassination, were among the most significant in the international relations of the twentieth century. These presidents, like Truman before them, faced dilemmas that none of their predecessors could have imagined as a new ‘Superpower’ (the term is widely accepted as entering the lexicon with William T. Fox’s volume of 1944).32 The United States, like the Soviet Union against which it measured itself, was entirely new to the role. The exemplars of earlier hegemonic states, notably those of Britain and France, were of little use in deciding how to behave. But at least the biographies of the dominant political figures in Wash- ington after 1945 were very similar to those who had dominated Western politics in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries more generally. Clemenceau, Lloyd George or Woodrow Wilson and now British Prime Ministers Attlee, Churchill, Eden and Macmillan, as well as a very large number of French political figures like de Gaulle, Bidault and Mol- let, had shared a period of immense political, technological and economic change with the key American political figures like Presidents Roosevelt, Truman and Eisenhower. All had played a significant role in the Second World War, and had their foundational experiences in that war, but also in the First World War and the 1920s and 1930s, decades that were dominated by economic crisis, the rise of sanguinary dictatorships of right and left and the exhibition of massive cruelty and suffering on a scale hitherto unimaginable. Unsurprisingly all of them learnt significant and deeply held lessons about what went wrong and what should never be allowed to happen again. That there was enough overlap of those con- victions and commonality of experience means that the West was able to develop a Venn diagram of agreement but also significant divergences. Commonality of experience naturally did not always signify agreement. The relationship between all the American presidents and their British and French counterparts that figure in this book is testament to that. We have talked about the problems de Gaulle experienced with Roosevelt at length. De Gaulle’s initial meetings and relations with President Tru- man were not much better. He was warned by Bonnet just after Roo- sevelt’s death in April 1945 that Truman’s lack of stature in domestic and 248 A. J. WILLIAMS international politics would make him far more vulnerable to Congres- sional influence, especially from the Southern Democrats of which he was one (as a native of Independence, Missouri). Truman had no personal relationship with Churchill, Stalin, or anyone of importance. Bonnet further suggested that Truman lacked Roosevelt’s social stature, for he was, in Bonnet’s damning term ‘a good average American, a sort of Demo- cratic Coolidge [bon Américain moyen, sorte de Coolidge démocrate]… a ‘self-made man du Middle West (sic)’. Of course for Americans that was precisely part of his appeal across party lines, and many also liked his fresh approach to international politics and his attention to public opinion (another of Bonnet’s negative points). Indeed all of these were reasons why Truman was re-elected in 1948 instead of Thomas E. Dewey, who knew he could not directly attack Truman, to the eternal disgust of sections of the Republican Party. But Bonnet was writing for de Gaulle, and he was worried that Europe would soon be facing a situation ‘similar to that which afflicted President Wilson and the entire world in 1919.’33

De Gaulle Returns, 1957--1961

In 1957–1958, with de Gaulle once more preparing for power, the world looked very different to that of 1919 or 1945. But France was arguably in an even worse state than it had been when de Gaulle had left ofﬁce in 1946. De Gaulle lamented, from his Colombey exile, that the only French politicians to choose between were ‘Chose, Machin, Chouette. Nous aurons de nouveau Chouette, Machin, Chose’. So, roughly translated, ‘Thingy, Whatsit and Great Guy’ would be followed by ‘Great Guy, Whatsit and Thingy’.34 The American view was not much different. Their analysis of 1954, discussed in previous chapters, had concluded that France had yet to ‘develop an effective post-war constitutional system of government, [and had shown its] … lack of military power and of statesmanship required to deal with colonial problems in Asia, Africa and the Caribbean … [and] indecisiveness … in relation to reviving Germany’. The conclusion of this process it was felt had been proved by the meetings of 1953 in Bermuda (see Chapter 5, pp. 206–208) where Churchill and Eden had met with Eisenhower and Dulles with French participation only at For- eign Minister level, Georges Bidault representing France in the absence of Prime Minister Laniel, said to be suffering from a ‘chill’. Was it now more accurate to talk of a ‘“Big Two” … in the West’? The only thing 6 CONCLUSION: DE GAULLE AND THE ANGLO-SAXONS, 1958–1961 249

France had left was ‘pride’.35 De Gaulle saw his primary aim as restoring France to its rightful place in the international system. He returned to power at a crucial juncture. Dulles was about to leave the scene, as he resigned as Secretary of State in April 1959, and died in May of the same year, while Eisenhower left the White House in January 1961. A new generation of official started to emerge in Washington in the Kennedy Administration. Many of these had not experienced the Second World War in senior positions. Both the new Secretary of State Dean Rusk and Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara had finished the war as colonels, while Eisenhower had been a Five Star General during the war, the Commander-in-Chief of all Allied armies in the West. Kennedy, the American President who succeeded him in January 1961, was only 43 when he took office, and had been a mere lieutenant during the conflict. It was to affect the relationship he would have with de Gaulle who was, as we have noted, the only survivor of the pre-war political generation still in power, once Macmillan was forced from office in October 1963, only a month before Kennedy was assassinated. This had important implications for the new American President’s relationship with his electorate. Kennedy, McNamara and Rusk were of the generation who had fought in Europe or in the Pacific (as in Kennedy’s and Rusk’s case) as ordinary soldiers. First, Americans had returned from Europe to the United States in large numbers with attitudes that did not flatter the French. A Fortune magazine poll of December 1946 that compared GI views of the British, French and Germans concluded that ‘the US fighting man came home … more favourably impressed by his German enemy than by his French ally.’36 A second consequence was largely due to Kennedy jettisoning most of the personnel of the Eisenhower Admin- istration, as Eisenhower had done to Truman’s, and bringing in new blood. His main advisors who became known, generally unflatteringly, as the ‘Best and the Brightest’,37 were to meet their reputational nemesis on account of the mismanagement of the Vietnam War. Nonetheless, as Logevall points out, there was a great measure of continuity in Kennedy’s policies towards Vietnam, in particular. Kennedy had accused Eisenhow- er’s policies, and those of his Republican opponent Richard Nixon, of being ‘unimaginative’ but the defeat of Ho Chih Minh was seen as essential by both Nixon and Kennedy or ‘it would only make the task harder next time [there was a communist insurgency].’38 250 A. J. WILLIAMS

What was different under Kennedy and Johnson was the impact of a much more ‘scientific’ approach to war using the most recent developments of science and social science, which was particularly inspired by the work of Talcott Parsons, a key figure in both modernisation and systems theorizing.39 Most of the advisors dubbed the ‘Best and the Brightest’ started their meritocratic rise at Ivy League universities, driven by a fer- vour for scientific approaches to economic and political issues. They were the architects of new polices of ‘modernization’, economic development and much besides. David Ekbladh perhaps sums this up best: the ‘Great American Mission’ was to be through: ‘modernization and the creation of an American world order’.40 In the 1950s and 1960s these ideas were fought out on the battlefields of South–East Asia and were a key plank of the United States’ efforts to persuade the Vietnamese, in particular, that their future was best guaranteed by buying into the Western capitalist model rather than that of the Chinese or Soviet alternatives. Their nemesis was to come from South East Asian peasant soldiers who had no access to the vast sums of money or materiel that proved of little use.

Eisenhower and de Gaulle in Paris and Washington, 1959--1960

When de Gaulle first returned to office that handover of influence from one elite group to another had still to take place. Initially de Gaulle had to deal with an American President he knew from the wartime period. It would be erroneous to say that Eisenhower hated de Gaulle. During the war he had been vocal in defending the French Resistance faced with the universal dislike of the General in Washington, and he had shared de Gaulle’s contempt for the ‘odious’ Admiral Darlan with whom he was forced to collaborate to carry out the ‘Torch’ landings in North Africa. When he met de Gaulle in Algiers in later 1942 his close aide Harry Butcher said his boss had indulged in a ‘love fest’, and had told de Gaulle ‘I must have your help and I have come to ask for it.’41 Eisenhower and de Gaulle always retained a certain respect for each other. When Eisenhower went to Paris (see below) they were able to sit around the fire in the Palais de Rambouillet (used by Kings and Presidents of France alike as a retreat outside Paris) and reminisce about the war, even while talking about difficult issues like French nuclear ambitions. In a subsequent visit by de Gaulle to Washington (again, see below), and as with Macmillan in 1957, informal attire was worn on occasion.42 6 CONCLUSION: DE GAULLE AND THE ANGLO-SAXONS, 1958–1961 251

Eisenhower’s last visit to Paris as President was in September 1959, not long after Christian Herter took over from the now departed Dulles as Secretary of State. He went there in the aftermath of the crisis over the erection of the Berlin Wall of late November 1958–January 1959. Herter was worried by the tone being taken by Khruschev and saw the de Gaulle visit as a possible way to build new alliances against Soviet activity. French Ambassador to Washington, Hervé Alphand (from 1956 to 1965), had been asked by Herter to contact de Gaulle to request that he and Eisenhower discuss ‘questions of general strategy’ in Paris before Eisenhower left the White House. Walton Kerr in the Washington Post reported that Eisenhower was going to ask de Gaulle not to build a French atomic bomb (what came to be known as ‘la Force de Frappe’) even before Eisenhower landed in Paris. But only two days later the news got out that France intended to play an ‘equal part [au même titre]’ with Britain and the United States in the ‘atomic club [club atomique]’ to ensure ‘a solid support for its Algerian policy [un appui efficace de sa politique algérienne]’. De Gaulle was throwing down a gauntlet that could have smashed the delicate balance that Dulles had tried to re-establish in the Middle East after Suez.43 But Eisenhower was not entirely hostile to de Gaulle’s request for nuclear weapons, and is reported to have said to General Vernon Walters that ‘de Gaulle isn’t entirely wrong with his nuclear programme. I’d like to help him in some way or another, but I can’t. Anyway, he’ll go on with his own programme’.44 De Gaulle visited the United States once more during Eisenhower’s presidency, in April 1960, which was, as Lacouture says, a prelude to a much more important summit between Eisenhower, Macmillan, de Gaulle and Khrushchev, to be held in Paris in May (one which it is widely accepted failed to make any progress).45 It was de Gaulle’s first visit since 1945 and was part of a bigger voyage to Canada, Guyana and the French Antilles between 18 April and 4 May 1960. The trip was essentially one of two old soldiers getting back together, with de Gaulle being reminded that Eisenhower was a recipient of France’s top honours, the Grand Croix de la Légion d’Honneur,andaCompagnon de la Libération, this last a sin- gular honour as only just over one thousand were ever awarded (Churchill and King George VI were other foreign recipients). De Gaulle was feted with visits to Congress, the National Press Club, and the battlefield at Gettysburg, where Eisenhower had bought a farm in 1948. The Quai d’Orsay briefing informed de Gaulle that this was where ‘the virtues of the American race had proved their stunning value [les vertus de la race 252 A. J. WILLIAMS américaine ont prouvé leur éclatante valeur]’. De Gaulle was also briefed on how he might put a wedge between the Anglo-Saxon powers. One useful anecdote was suggested he might drop into a conversation in the White House. He should point out that it was ‘white’ because it had been painted white in 1817 ‘to cover up the traces of the fire [pour faire dis- paraître les traces de l’incendie]’ that the British had caused in 1812. He was to make a special attempt to meet Under-Secretary of State Douglas Dillon who the Quai, possibly erroneously, thought might be an ally in his support for the French position in Algeria and the criticism he had received from the British for his support for a united Europe. Others, like Senator William Fulbright, were to be treated with caution as they were notoriously pro-British. He was also told to drop into the conversation that for the first time since 1945 France now had a balance of payments surplus with the United States, proof that the Fourth Republic had not been a total disaster of course, though that was diplomatically not pointed out to de Gaulle .46 Two other significant points were made for de Gaulle’s consideration, one, very positive, couched in a long memorandum about cultural relations between France and the United States. France may still be, for the elite and the mass of Americans ‘the fountain and natural defender of the very idea of culture [le dépositaire et le défenseur naturel de l’idée de la culture]’. This was now reinforced by writers like Malraux (de Gaulle’s Minister of Cultural Affairs, 1959–1969) and Camus, and much besides. French was by far the most widely taught foreign language in American schools and universities, and there were more American students in France than in any other country, including Britain. On the contrary de Gaulle was told that the ‘cultural conscience’ of the United States (and Britain) found itself in a ‘state of disarray [état de désarroi]’. There was a feeling that there had been a ‘failure of economic and intellectual liberalism … a failure of so-called democratic education [une faillite de l’éducation dite démocratique]’. There was thus a real chance that France could take advantage of its cultural ‘good will [sic]’ to help the Americans come to grips, as the French had long managed, according to the author of the memorandum, with ‘ethnic, linguistic, [and] cultural, diversity’. The last point was less positive: Eisenhower, de Gaulle was reminded, was about to step down as president in January 1961.47 His successor was a very different proposition from his old soldier friend Eisenhower. 6 CONCLUSION: DE GAULLE AND THE ANGLO-SAXONS, 1958–1961 253

Kennedy and de Gaulle, 1961

As a youthful scion of one of the wealthiest families in the United States, Kennedy had spent some of his youth driving round France in 1937 in an imported convertible. He had concluded that ‘while they [the French] all like Roosevelt, his type of government would not succeed in a country like France’. Meanwhile ‘[t]he distinguishing mark of the Frenchman is his cabbage breath and the fact that there are no bathtubs’, while also being part of ‘quite a primitive nation’. These were conventional idiocies for the Anglo-Saxons of his time (as American diplomats of the 1930s often reported), and unfortunately have their echo even today. Kennedy had a difﬁcult war, commander of a ‘PT’ boat, a motor-torpedo craft, that he, by general acceptance, captained with great bravery and compe- tence becoming a genuine war hero before he was invalided out of the US Navy in 1945. This was not helped by excruciating health problems that dogged him all his life, which often belied the golden ‘Camelot’ image that many still retain of his tragically short presidency.48 Kennedy’s inexperience when dealing with statesmen who had dominated Western, indeed global, politics since the 1940s meant that the new President had to be bought up to speed about a number of wily old foxes of the international system, and especially de Gaulle. His ﬁrst encounters left him in the strange position of being the most powerful man in the world having to play homage to a man who had been viewed with contempt by his predecessor President Roosevelt a scant twenty years previously.

Kennedy in Paris, 1961 Kennedy went to Paris in May and June of 1961, the first year of his Presidency. Before that he was sent what can only be termed his ‘French homework’ by the French Embassy in Washington, which consisted essentially of a series of de Gaulle’s speeches of the 1940s. One particularly ringing Gaullist speech of 18 March 1944 may have caught his attention: ‘After the war Europe must reassume its place in the world … It is then that … the value of France – as dictated by History, geography and good sense - will be essential if Europe is to orient itself and renew its ties with the world.’ De Gaulle had gone on to say that after the war ‘a sort of Western group, achieved with us … principally on an economic basis … would offer great advantages … prolonged by Africa, in close relations 254 A. J. WILLIAMS with the East … and of which the Channel, the Rhine and the Mediter- ranean would be as arteries…’ The global wartime ambitions of de Gaulle, by 1961 in a much better position than he had been in 1944, were laid out for the new President to marvel at. But the intent was contemporaneous, for de Gaulle was worried that the Soviet Union ‘constantly threatens the Free World’. He had told ‘Krouchtchev’ (sic) in Paris in May 1960 that ‘if the Soviets as they state, want détente and coexistence, let them make it possible by ceasing to threaten.’49 This had been the main lesson of the failed Summit of Eisenhower’s last year in power, a problem now inherited by Kennedy. Alphand wished that to be seen as a problem de Gaulle was willing to share. Before Kennedy’s departure there were extensive discussions between Alphand, Walt Rostow (Deputy National Security Advisor in 1961, a key architect of Kennedy’s and Johnson’s policies),50 and Secretary of State Rusk (under both Kennedy and Johnson, 1961–1969). There was also input from the CIA, as well as advice proffered by Gavin from Paris. The idea was to be able to brief the President on what to expect on his first major excursion to Europe. De Gaulle would see three issues as essential: ‘the substance, the direction and the organization of combined efforts in Africa and Asia’; the question of American missiles on French soil, by which was meant the ‘terms’ of their deployment; and that of Britain and the EEC. This latter area of discussion, which was to dog Anglo- French and Franco-American relations throughout the 1960s was, along with what to do about the USSR, the most important topic, and we need to discuss why that was.51 The United States had always seen Britain as its major potential support for American aims to both pacify and protect Europe. But, as we saw in Chapter 4, Britain was a reluctant supporter of the idea.52 To adapt the words of EU negotiator Michel Barnier in the recent 2016– 2019 Brexit negotiations, Britain in 1961 ‘wanted its cake and to eat it too’, to have free trade with its former Dominions and colonies, and at the same time preferential access to European markets.53 So the main issue for both the State Department and the French Government at this period was one of British commitment to Europe. The British, Alphand told Rusk, had to sign up fully to the Treaty of Rome, which required the settlement of agricultural issues, essentially leaving the European Free Trade Area (EFTA) and renouncing Commonwealth trade preferences.54 That was a very difficult position for any British Government to take, and 6 CONCLUSION: DE GAULLE AND THE ANGLO-SAXONS, 1958–1961 255 at this period out of the question. Macmillan had told Dulles in Septem- ber 1958 that Britain was ‘the leading nation in the Commonwealth, [for which] we have a special responsibility’. This was often political as well as economic – Britain coordinated Commonwealth policy on China in the late 1950s, for example.55 Rusk said much the same at the time: ‘he doubts UK will seek full membership’. But Kennedy was advised, in a position paper, to keep the discussion focussed on what de Gaulle wanted to hear. Drafted by State Department staffer Richard David Vine, Kennedy was urged to remind de Gaulle from the outset that the United States’ ‘basic reason for our strong interest in the six-country movement [the then EEC … was due to] the importance of tying Germany in closely with the West.’ Furthermore he was to be told that ‘for Britain to join fully in the Common Market would contribute to the cohesion of the West.’ This would further strengthen ‘NATO and the Atlantic Alliance’. The ‘anticipated French position’ was not clearly understood, and indeed de Gaulle did not at this point intend to really turn the knife on Britain’s membership ambitions, that came later in 1963.56 Given that the UK and its relationship with the EEC would be high up the agenda, the London press was non-plussed that Kennedy did not stop over in Britain on his way. The French Ambassador to Lon- don (1955–1962), the poet Jean Chauvel, chortled that the Daily Mail wondered if maybe ‘something is amiss in Anglo-American relations?’ He of course knew the essential ‘European’ reason. The Kennedy administration did not want to start out with a major row between its two main Western European allies. Kennedy was also aware that there were major disagreements between Paris and Washington, notably about French ambitions for a nuclear strike force as well as rumbling issues like South-East Asia, the decolonisation of the Belgian Congo, the UN and NATO. But there were also agreements over Berlin, where the erection of the Wall still rankled, and Germany, where France was being much more cooperative.57 In another position paper, ‘Relations with the Soviet Bloc (The President may wish to raise)’ the State Department crafted a careful and much more detailed text by Robert Komer, of Kennedy’s National Security Council, which was particularly checked by Charles Bohlen, soon to be American Ambassador to Paris and previously Ambassador to the Soviet Union (1953–1957).58 Kennedy was to have no doubt that de Gaulle was ‘deeply convinced of the gravity of the threat the Soviet Union poses to Western civilization’, and he will agree with the idea that ‘a united West must deal firmly with 256 A. J. WILLIAMS the Soviets’. De Gaulle was presented as not being interested in ‘compromise’, as on Berlin, but also not thinking that the Soviet Union was anything more than a ‘temporary phenomenom’, for in the long run ‘Com- munist China will become the great menace – the yellow peril’. Eventu- ally, de Gaulle was said to believe, the Russians would realise that China was a greater threat than the West. Russia ‘will realise it is a European nation, and will return to the family.’ Hence the ‘door [must be left] open to the Soviets’, and he was preparing the ground by ‘propos[ing] joint Soviet-Western projects for aid to underdeveloped countries.’59 As well as trying to influence the new President’s view of all of the above issues, Alphand had also sent de Gaulle a brilliant summary of Kennedy’s first 100 days, the usual honeymoon period for any US president. In his case, said Alphand, they had been disastrous, ‘characterized by disasters, crises and disillusion [peuplés de déboires, de crises at de désil- lusions]’.60 Many of Kennedy’s more flamboyant ideas on education and unemployment had been stalled in Congress, but the main crises had been over the Bay of Pigs invasion of Cuba , the Communist coup in Laos and the chaos in the Congo after being granted independence on 30 June 1960, which had left the UN looking incapable.61 The ‘young President’ had not been ‘personally blamed’ by American public opinion for this mayhem, and he had seemed to ‘remain calm, self-confident’ and able to ride out the initial storm. But, and this was maybe a first for a diplomatic despatch, Alphand mused that as a ‘Gemini’ his ‘intellectual’ side (he was a rare Harvard graduate in the White House) seemed to be in collision with his ‘Irish’ side, so he was ‘impulsive [il agit sans grande réflexion].’ The proof of this were his sudden decisions not to let American forces intervene in support of the invading anti-Castro forces, and abandoning four UN amendments on the Congo and one in support of Portugal’s amendment on Angola, and that ‘without any consultation whatsoever [sans autre consultation]’. These were all signs of character and of inexperience. He ‘will have to change his working methods, limit the people he listens to and go less with his instincts and … with more prudence’. Bizarrely, thought Alphand, he was still popular with 85% of the American public, a ‘figure that even Eisenhower never attained’.62 Kennedy was to meet with many people in Paris and the State Depart- ment files are replete with detailed analyses of everyone he was likely to meet. It is unlikely he absorbed all of this. But the crucial nature of the visit was understood. A meeting was arranged in Washington between Alphand, Kennedy, and Jacques Chaban-Delmas, President of the French 6 CONCLUSION: DE GAULLE AND THE ANGLO-SAXONS, 1958–1961 257

National Assembly (from 1961 to 1969), in March 1961, to prepare the visit. This had the latter saying to Kennedy that his visit ‘creates an opportunity which may never recur to carry out some fundamental changes and improvements in the working methods of the Western Alliance.’ Chaban- Delmas had met Khrushchev who had told him ‘in cold anger … that he could always win against the West because there was no coordination between the policies of the Western nations and he could play them one against the other.’ De Gaulle had told him that he was prepared to act as ‘the natural channel for the coordination of policies on the continent in the same way in which the United States and the United Kingdom are the natural channels in other geographical areas.’ When he got back to Paris Chaban-Delmas told Ambassador James Gavin (in post March 1961–September 1962) that he had ‘established an excellent relationship with President Kennedy’. Gavin fell for this flannel, for he was now sure that ‘de Gaulle will prove the most cooperative and easy ally’. In the Assemblée Nationale Chaban-Delmas referred to Kennedy as ‘a young and dynamic man with a very lively intellect [un homme jeune, dynamique, dont les réflexes intellectuels sont très rapides]’.63 This was to prove a sadly misplaced hope. De Gaulle was clearly marking out who he wished to dominate, and where, in his early relationship with Kennedy. In Europe it would be himself. He was laying a trap for Kennedy, for how could France be the ‘natural channel’ in Europe if Britain was not also there to translate its own and American wishes? Kennedy was in part a willing victim of de Gaulle’s message. Dallek writes that he ‘had genuine regard for de Gaulle’. De Gaulle had also backed American firmness with the Soviets over Berlin, de Gaulle had made very solid moves to decolonise North Africa , unlike his predecessors, and was seemingly cooperating much better over Ger- many and European integration.64 But his advisers realised that Kennedy wouldalsoneedallhis‘réflexes intellectuels’ to be able to match those of the wily de Gaulle. The much more cynical Komer had other views, suggesting that Jean Monnet, still active at 73, would be a ‘good transmission belt for ideas’. Monnet was not an ally of de Gaulle, indeed the grandson of de Gaulle’s 1943 opponent, General Giraud , accused de Gaulle as having ‘slandered’ Monnet.65 Monnet was ‘not an ardent Gaullist’ said Komer, but close to Adenauer, and another sceptic about the UK position: he ‘feels [the] UK really did not offer very much’. Komer also suggested that Kennedy should not encourage de Gaulle’s nuclear ambitions—Monnet had told 258 A. J. WILLIAMS

Acheson ‘it would be nonsense to aid’ them and he was sure that ‘de Gaulle will eventually adjust to the facts here’.66 Monnet had also told Arthur Schlesinger that ‘De Gaulle cannot be convinced of anything by argument, but he has a great capacity in the end to adjust to facts. The President must talk to him in historic terms – in terms of the grand and irresistible historic tendencies’.67 In the event Kennedy’s visit to Paris went well, which was definitely not the case with his first encounter with Khrushchev in Vienna shortly afterwards. There Kennedy had to endure diatribes from Khrushchev, who at one point was ‘circling round Kennedy and snapping at him like a terrier and shaking his finger’, as one observer remarked.68 De Gaulle treated Kennedy with great courtesy and respect, from the moment he landed at Orly airport, where de Gaulle broke with the habit of a lifetime by greeting his guest in English. The young President and his beautiful wife Jacqueline made exactly the right kind of impression that had been suggested by his advisors. National Security Advisor McGeorge Bundy wanted this to ‘make a personal impact’, while he regarded the huge delegation that had accompanied Eisenhower the year before, over 400 in all, as excessive. There should be a ‘new approach to France’, the aim of which was ‘re-enlist French energies in the common cause – NATO’ as well as trying to dissuade de Gaulle from his nuclear ambitions.69 The plan worked on the personal level, but de Gaulle managed not to engage too closely with the NATO issue, or on the nuclear. Rusk in any case realised, as had Eisenhower, that the French would in any event develop their own nuclear capabilities and had already had successful tests of nuclear weapons. All they could hope to do was delay them, for the ‘cost and time required for France to prosecute that program will surely be greater if we do not provide help than otherwise’. The worst that could then happen was that France would develop ‘nuclear strike capability with manned aircraft’, but not ‘effective ballistic missile capability’.70 Unhappily the dominant event of the Paris visit was the news that US ally Rafael Trujillo, the dictator of the Dominican Republic, and a close neighbour of Castro’s Cuba, had been assassinated. This potentially gave rise to the awful prospect of another humiliation for the United States in the Caribbean, while the Bay of Pigs was still a recent memory.71 De Gaulle could have been forgiven for reflecting that the United States was tasting the bitter dregs of humiliation as he had so often during the war at the hands of another Democratic President. De Gaulle’s magnanimity was easy in these circumstances. He had been confirmed in his view of his 6 CONCLUSION: DE GAULLE AND THE ANGLO-SAXONS, 1958–1961 259 own destiny by Kennedy’s visit, even though not much of substance had really been discussed. The Paris meeting was by all appearances a success but in its major aims an American failure. France did indeed develop the Force de Frappe, and by 1966 had partially withdrawn from NATO.72

Conclusion: Grand Strategy Meets French Personality?

These concluding remarks will touch on what we might say more generally about the state of France’s relations with the ‘Anglo-Saxon’ powers in the early 1960s. They will also suggest that we can draw wider conclusions about the continuing problems that Britain and the United States have with France as a partner.

Did de Gaulle Have a Grand Strategy? De Gaulle’s arrival in power had heralded a difficult end for Eisenhower’s Presidency and created problems for his successor, and that without the reassuring hand of Dulles at the American tiller. The period under consideration in this book as a whole saw the development of a ‘Grand Strategy’ by the United States that was quite different from that it had pursued previous to the Second World War. The definition of the term is itself not without controversy, but we could perhaps agree that such a strategy has as its aim to develop ‘concrete’ forms of military power as well as economic and ‘moral’ resources, what Basil Liddell Hart called ‘the peoples’ willing spirit’. Most writers could agree with Hal Brands when he says it must encompass broadness and consistency, and Paul Kennedy writes that it is a set of policies and attitudes that ‘should operate for decades, or even centuries. It [does] not stop at war’s end, nor commence at its beginning.’73 We can also look to what Michael Hunt calls ‘ideology’ in foreign policy, an element that he thinks is often ignored in considerations of strategy. This ‘big and slippery subject’ adds another layer of complexity to our comparison of the aims and achievements in foreign policy of Britain and the United States on one hand and France on the other. Hunt picks out what George Kennan called the ‘moralism’ and ‘le- galism’, attributes that Kennan abhorred in American foreign policy as obscuring ‘any clear definition and effective pursuit of the national interest’. Rationality must replace ‘sentimentality’, the basis of the approach taken by Dean Acheson, Kennan and others in the 1940s and 1950s.74 260 A. J. WILLIAMS

These two concepts are key to understanding the often-difficult relationship between the United States and Britain on one hand and France on the other that emerged especially during de Gaulle’s time in office between 1958 and 1969. French views on the Anglo-Saxons and what the French saw as their incompatibility with French aims was not unique to de Gaulle but it has become very much marked by him. We can definitely say that what has been referred to as the ‘golden age’ of Grand Strategy in the United States was matched by a different form of Grand Strategy by France. There can be few doubts that de Gaulle had an overarching strategy, and that was his desire to place France in its rightful position in the international order. But as Garrett Martin puts it, he certainly managed to make many American officials and political figures dislike him intensely. He was widely seen as having an anti-American and anti-British bias. But one episode that sticks out is Martin’s reporting of de Gaulle’s comment to Georges Pompidou in January 1963, when he said that ‘If the United Kingdom entered the EEC, nothing would stop the Ameri- can firms from invading the continent … We are the only ones defending Europe against the American invasion … We have decolonised the French Empire. We now have to shake off the Anglo-Saxon colonization.’ Maybe President Kennedy indeed summed up his resulting frustration with such sentiments best when he declared: ‘these bastards [the French] just live off the fat of the land and spit on us every chance they get.’75 De Gaulle saw himself as being entirely unsentimental in his approach to his erstwhile allies and this characteristic has often made him seem selfish and even callous. But he was in many ways a man of his time, a worthy opponent for Acheson, Kennan and others who carved out American strategic aims. When we refer to that as ‘Gaullist’ we should be aware that it was largely, but clearly not entirely, the work of de Gaulle himself. Like Liddell-Hart, de Gaulle shared the experience as a combatant in the Great War. But unlike Liddell-Hart he was not concerned with the problems of being in an island nation with a strong navy and a compar- atively weak army. He was very aware of France’s continental importance and the consequences of that geographical reality. His pre-war military writings laid out his clear understandings of the world and why he found himself mainly distrusting Anglo-Saxon actions and intentions.76 Lacouture sees de Gaulle’s changing views as being due to his major ‘muse of history’ – when he was thinking of Her and he felt ‘deprived of her lessons, he sometimes seemed to vacillate, to be groping his way.’ 6 CONCLUSION: DE GAULLE AND THE ANGLO-SAXONS, 1958–1961 261

So, says Lacouture, when faced with the United States, he was often confused as ‘he had no “grid” of historical references to dealing with’ the country. No such doubts existed when dealing with the British as there he had the ‘bitterness’ born out ‘of excessive attachment to a past in which Hastings, Agincourt, Waterloo and Fashoda loomed large’. This was well described in La France et son armée (1938). The same was true of Germany and Poland, with which he was not only familiar as a soldier but also as a historian. So, adds Lacouture, ‘Germany was in the forefront of [his] thinking … because the community living on either side of the Rhine belonged perfectly to the historical setting that inspired the author of Le Fil de L’épée.’ This book of 1932 by de Gaulle on the role of force in politics, as well as that of ‘contingency’ and the need for a statesman to rely on ‘instinct’ (an idea he drew from the philosophy of Henri Bergson) has rightly been seen as one of his major statements about France, and by extension his own destiny to re-establish his country after its humiliation of 1940. In quoting Hamlet at the beginning of this book de Gaulle gave us a rare insight into his thinking—‘Rightly to be great. Is not to stir without great argument. [Etre grand, c’est soutenir une grande quer- relle]’.77

De Gaulle and Europe De Gaulle’s attitude to the EEC outlined above can be said to have played an inordinately important role in the evolution of what is now the EU, but it is doubtful that he would have liked what it has now become. In the period between January 1946 and his return to power in June 1958, he was convinced that the European aspirations of europhile politicians like Monnet, ideological father of European unity, or Schuman, the co- founder of ECSC , and even of his former right hand man in Washington René Pleven, not to mention the signatories of the Treaty of Rome in 1956, showed them all to be traitors to France. A generally sympathetic biographer shows that de Gaulle saw the unrat- iﬁed EDC Treaty discussions of 1952 (see Chapter 4, pp. 164–168) as an extension of attempts by the United States to control Europe, as they were also trying to do through NATO (founded in 1949), in the name of ‘burden-sharing’. It was ‘le suicide de la France’ and he called for a return to the Maquis. But for de Gaulle the ‘European’ army that Tru- man and his Secretary of State Dean Acheson envisaged was nothing more than ‘une ânerie [asinine nonsense]’. At that point his considered opinion was also that: ‘the European army is the army of Europe. But Europe 262 A. J. WILLIAMS does not exist as a moral and political entity [L’armée européenne, c’est l’armée de l’Europe. Or l’Europe n’existe pas en tant qu’entité morale et politique].’78 However by 1958 he had had a miraculous conversion, and his relationship with Konrad Adenauer led to one of the greatest political partnerships of the twentieth century. From then on, notwithstanding episodes like the ‘Empty Chair’ episode of 1965–1966 (when de Gaulle refused to engage with the EEC’s move towards a more supranational organisation), he dominated it. The explanation is that de Gaulle never stopped being a French nationalist and a believer in a Europe des nations, but he did shed the age-old French distrust of Germany. What he achieved was a vision of Europe as one that should evolve in line with French and German desires and not one that should not in any way be contaminated by British or American wishes. This was often to the alarm of his partners in the EC like Hol- land and Belgium who wanted at all costs to keep the British in Europe. Only after de Gaulle fell from power in 1969 was there any possibility of a real supranational development for European institutions. By the late 1960s the EEC had nonetheless become a ‘commercial heavyweight’ and the balance of power had begun to move decisively in favour of Europe and against the UK, a move that has arguably continued ever since. It is tempting, as Piers Ludlow points out, to see de Gaulle’s initial refusal to countenance British membership of the EEC as a case of a continuing Franco-British rivalry (or even a personal antipathy by de Gaulle of Britain), but that is undoubtedly an over-simplistic view. By 1963 the EEC was a substantial commercial area with an agenda to integrate much more closely (as in the Treaty of Rome’s injunction to ‘ever closer union’) than Britain was comfortable with. De Gaulle was certainly a factor but the prospect of absorbing the agricultural behemoths of the British Com- monwealth like Australia and New Zealand into the fragile ‘Common Agricultural Policy’ was a prospect that was of keen concern to all the EEC states.79 In short, there was a concern, and not just in Paris, that ‘the admission of new members might undermine what they had already achieved and impede future progress’.80

The Triumph of Europe? After the death of de Gaulle in 1970 the way became clear for Britain to become part of the EEC. The reasons for this are complex and beyond the 6 CONCLUSION: DE GAULLE AND THE ANGLO-SAXONS, 1958–1961 263 scope of this volume. We can still see the echoes of the debates outlined above in the current (2019) global discussions about what kind of world, or even what kind of ‘West’ the populations of France, Britain and the United States want to see in future. This is particularly clear when applied to the issue of Europe. The Second World War still hangs as a shadow over the Europe of both the defeated and victorious powers of 1945. It is arguable that Germany, utterly defeated in 1945, has come to terms with both itself and its neighbours more successfully than any of the three Western democracies upon which we are focussing. Certainly there has been much anguish about war guilt, the Holocaust, and the consequences of a country occupied (or defended) by hundreds of thousands of British, French and American troops until the 1990s. But these are issues that have been addressed and are beyond the scope of this book. The current debate about Europe hinges around the possible emergence of Germany as a reluctant ‘top nation’ on a continent of lesser Powers now that the United Kingdom is bowing out. Questions arise as to how France, or the EU, could survive if Britain abandoned the French to live with the Germans ‘on their own’, and what will now become of the millions of British and EU citizens living on both sides of the Channel now that their European citizenship is no longer a sure value and defence anywhere? These questions continue to cause immense pain and anguish and that will not be forgotten no matter how ‘good’ a Brexit deal is or is not hammered out. So being ‘objective’ about how we got here is difﬁcult given the recent and still raw nature of the events. But we must try.

Memory and Myth The first, and widely recognised, issue is that of the weaponisation of ‘memory’. Brexit risks opening up carefully bandaged wounds. In France the guilt felt by many for the abject defeat of 1940, the widespread collaboration that then followed, and the shaky return to some sort of normality were problems only papered over until the 1970s. A Gaullist mythology of resistance and what Wieviorka calls ‘divided memory’ became the official line, one where: ‘all French people had participated, albeit to an unequal degree, in the underground struggle… united as brothers under the tute- lary figure of Charles de Gaulle…’ The official Gaullist-Communist line was that there was no other Resis- tance that saved France from the Nazi embrace. This can even be seen in contemporary speeches in many parts of France on the ‘Liberation of 264 A. J. WILLIAMS

Europe’ Day of 8 May, which excludes ‘the heterodox elements… the networks that pledged allegiance to Britain, and even the resisto-Vichyists’. Among historians this fiction was slowly debunked in the 1970s, but the impact lingers.81 Again the role of myth is vital in understanding the relative attraction of Europe as a complex of understandings, in de Rougemont’s words ‘myths translate the rules of conduct [règles de conduit]ofasocial or religious group’.82 These are predicated nationally on very different premises. In the case of France that is the idea that war can be waged and a seemingly unbeatable enemy conquered by a strong Republic, prefer- ably led by a de Gaulle-like figure in full revolutionary garb. The sedate figures of Britannia, John Bull or that of Uncle Sam certainly do not lack a certain bourgeois military allure, but they entirely lack the wild-eyed quality of Marianne, leaping the barricades with musket aloft, as in the painting by Delacroix. Macron is but the latest French politician to evoke ‘liberté’ as the French rallying cry for a cosmopolitan Europe based firmly on French political values. But what are those values, and against whom are they directed? Arguably they are directed against Anglo-Saxon liberalism (or, for many on the French left, ‘neo-liberalism’),83 an ideology with a subdued tradition of violent revolution, an emphasis on individual liberty and a strong belief in progress. The very history of liberalism is shot through with pragmatism, one that can be seen in early twentieth century Britain and America in the American ‘pragmatist’ philosophers like John Dewey, Charles Peirce and William James and among the British ‘new liberals’ like T. H. Greene. Christopher Ansell evokes a ‘progressive conservatism’ among pragmatists where ‘meaning is both cumulative and continuously revised’, and (quoting Koopman) its view of ‘progress (meliorism) … “consists in simultaneously accepting and criticizing our inherited traditions”’.84 This was decidedly not stirring stuff. Contrast that with Georges Sorel, syndicalist author of Reflections on Violence (1907) and admirer of Bergson whose lectures he regularly attended at the Collège de France. He wrote in the year of his book’s turbulent publication to the historian Daniel Halévy that ‘the history of French democracy … presents a very remarkable combination of Utopias and myths … the myth safeguarded the Utopia with which it was mixed’. He denounced all forms of ‘meliorism’, in particular ‘liberal political economy … one of the best examples of a Utopia that could be given’, as well as the social democracy of the French socialist Jean Jaurès, and such- like ‘worthy progressists’. Sorel coupled that with a perhaps unconscious 6 CONCLUSION: DE GAULLE AND THE ANGLO-SAXONS, 1958–1961 265 echo of Edmund Burke, who had denounced the French Revolution in similar terms: ‘the optimist in politics is an inconstant and even dangerous man because he takes no account of the difficulties presented by his projects… The optimist passes with remarkable facility from revolutionary anger to the most ridiculous social pacifism.’ But said Sorel, it was ‘Bergson [who]taught us that it is not only religion which occupies the profounder region of our mental life: revolutionary myths have their place there equally with religion’.85 We could say that de Gaulle attempted, with some success, to occupy the space left by religion in the French imagination. As an equally fervent follower of Bergson himself he would have understood the mechanism involved. In a memorandum by Arthur Schlesinger cited above, Kennedy was in fact urged to ‘acquaint himself a little with the philosophy of Bergson.’ This was alongside the recommen- dation that Kennedy read de Gaulle’s Le Fil de L’épée of 1932 when he had been a mere major in the French army. As Free French leader, and then as President of the Republic, de Gaulle managed to incarnate in his person a variety of French myths, which is maybe why so many politicians across the French political spectrum continue to claim him as their own.86 But what if, like in Germany, dominant myths like the Romantic era call of Blut und Boden were after 1945 deemed unacceptable? Germany was in effect forced to create a new myth, one of democracy, largely imposed by Anglo-Saxon liberals. It has gone along with that fiction, mainly due to its own memories of what the alternative has been in the past. A new Europe has had to replace the seductive myth of a German-dominated Mitteleu- ropa, one popularised under the First and Third Reichs. It has proved very easy for British eurosceptics like Margaret Thatcher in Britain to evoke this as a hidden German aim in the new United Europe of the present era precisely because this was a proclaimed German aim until 1945.87 An explanation for the creation of new myths, highlighted by a number of scholars, and most notably Ulrich Beck as well as David Miles, is that by embracing painful memory – Verganenheitsbewältigung (literally, ‘a struggle to come to terms with the past’) – Germany has been transformed by the embrace of law.88 But can we really say, as does Helle Porsdam, that the European intellectual scene, which she largely describes in Franco-German terms, has provided an alternative to the well-established Anglo-American vision of a Europe which is ‘multi-ethnic and more cosmopolitan’?89 We can see that in the thinking of the neoliberal Mont Pélerin group, led by economists Leopold von Mises and Friedrich Hayek outlined above in Chapter 3, 266 A. J. WILLIAMS pp. 85–86,90 but that vision has and had greater adherents in Britain and the United States than in France or Germany. When the neoliberal Margaret Thatcher tried to rethink the (then) EEC by creating a ‘single market’ in 1988, due to be completed by 1992 (but never achieved to this day) she lauded ‘a single market without barriers - visible or invisi- ble - giving you direct and unhindered access to the purchasing power of over 300 million of the world’s wealthiest and most prosperous people … Britain has given the lead’.91 If by the end of her active life she had soured on that theme it was largely out of disappointment that French opposition (in particular) to actually implementing that market had stymied her hopes. Europe has proved to be a difficult ideal to sell to a British population that considers, even to this day, that it ‘won’ the war and resents that Germany seems to have emerged the real winner. Or again, there is anger and dismay with the non-elected Brussels-based EU bureaucracy that issues often seemingly incomprehensible and clumsy ‘directives’ to add to an ever-burgeoning acquis communitaire. There are naturally contrary voices, for many newspapers of the centre-left like the Guardian,the New Statesman,andtheFinancial Times, and individuals from all sides of the political divide, deride the above views as ill-informed. Moreover, the population is not, on the whole, ‘anti-European’; the British working class that preponderantly voted for Brexit loves the Spanish Coast for their holidays and has deserted the nostalgia-ridden seaside resorts of the UK. And who can blame them? Memory is again key, albeit that memory has been nurtured by a euro- phobic popular press. But of course newspapers only sell if they strike a widespread chord, and for many it just feels that the rush to forget the war has rather elided their own memories, ones that seem to be sacrificed in the need for reconciliation. This is most memorably portrayed in the performance by British actor John Cleese in the 1970s in his portrayal of a hotel owner (of ‘Fawlty Towers’) recovering from concussion and trying not to ‘mention the war’ with two visiting German couples. British humour is at its best when it is self-mocking, but this is a meme that is used for any analogous Anglo-German rivalry (especially sporting).92 The United States, when it remembers that Europe exists at all such is the salience of foreign policy issues for most of Main Street USA, is mostly bewildered that its contribution to world order and European defence is minimised by anti-American left-wingers. Most Americans, even journalists, have only vague ideas about who represents Europe, aptly summed 6 CONCLUSION: DE GAULLE AND THE ANGLO-SAXONS, 1958–1961 267 up by Henry Kissinger’s quip ‘who do I call when I want to speak to “Europe”?’93 The mechanism of memory has been accelerated by the post-Cold War expansion of the EU and the extension of the language of reconciliation to areas that were previously under the Soviet jackboot. What is referred to by Monica Riera and Gavin Schaffer as an initial ‘murky post-war selec- tive silence’ has now been replaced by a ‘rememoration’ by ‘mud-raking historians among others’ across Europe,94 with very unpleasant results in parts of Eastern Europe like Poland. The previous Soviet-era narrative of German and Polish war guilt for the Holocaust as been challenged by those who claim that Poles were essentially victims and never perpetrators of atrocities, a narrative clearly contradicted by documentaries like Claude Lanzmann’s 1985 nine-hour film Shoah.95 More specifically for us, such re-evaluation of memory has in places led to a memory-led rejection by certain sections of the French, British and, arguably, American populations who do not wish to forget what happened between 1940 and 1945 or want to remember it to their own advantage. In this vein others blame the absurd nostalgia of some sections of the (especially) British population for the lost Empire as a ‘paranoid fantasy’, a line pursued by Irish commentator Fintan O’Toole. His attempt to put all ‘Brexiteers’ into the category of ‘upper class twittery’ rather overlooks the fact underlined by the Irish commentator Mary Kenny that many of the accused are of working-class or immigrant origin, and not a few of them virulent left-wing anti-imperialists. So Labour MPs Denis Skinner and Jeremy Corbyn as well as former Labour MP, German Gisela Stuart not to mention previous Labour luminaries like Tony Benn and Michael Foot don’t quite fit the stereotypes.96 There are some, especially in the Conservative Party, who stand guilty as charged, but remarkably few who do. Indeed many of the Tory grandees of impeccable ‘imperial’ descent, like Churchill’s grandson Christopher Soames as well as Michael Hesel- tine, are actually ‘remainers’. Imperial nostalgia, or rather bitterness, is also a trope among the followers of the nationalist Front Nationale in France. The wounds of the Algerian Civil War and the treatment meted out by the Gestapo in France to French citizens undoubtedly contribute to a climate of distrust towards not only French citizens and immigrants of Meghrebin origin, but also to the British, where the sinking of the French fleet at Mers el-Kébir is a regular old chestnut in Anglo-French conversations and a central part of the Gaullist discourse about British ‘arrogance’. Again, there are 268 A. J. WILLIAMS contrary cultural signifiers, like the immensely popular film La Grande Vadrouille (1966), itself a spoof of the American film The Great Escape (1963) which portrays the Germans as being mostly evil. The former film is about the escape of a British bomber crew from occupied France, with British, French and German participants being portrayed in affectionate and humorous terms. Terry Thomas and Louis de Funes are both stereo- typical post-war British and French character actors, and both are worthy antidotes to the hatred of the French extreme right.97 Beyond the problems of memory, recent or past, is the issue of ‘failure’ or ‘success’. In many ways both American and British hopes for a global order based on a British-dominated Europe underpinned by a global United States were not to work out entirely as planned. For Lam- berton Harper’s ‘American visions of Europe’ we might also add ‘Bri- tish’.98 The United States wanted a compliant France to help Britain become a key member of a future integrated Europe after the Sec- ond World War. The problems that this ideal has posed for France and Britain are legion and maybe even fatal, as the 2016 ‘Brexit’ referendum result might be said to show. The roots of that lie paradoxically in the period when France and Britain were closest, first as a result of a jointly fought war, and second as a result of the lack of political will expressed in London in the 1940s and 1950s when Britain was in a far stronger bargaining position than France. The politicians of the Fourth Republic, dominated as it often was by the SFIO, were on the whole very much in favour of Britain joining the signatories of the 1957 Treaty of Rome, to form the EEC, and the embryonic European Common Market. In 1957 many in Britain saw themselves as much more wedded to their imperial relationships than to what many in Britain will always call the Continent. Even today the largely mythical solidarity of the Anglosphere exerts a stronger grip over the British (or maybe just the English?) imagination than the idea of European citizenship. As we have mentioned ‘neoliberal’, or hyperlibérale, is a term of abuse for many French and German intellectuals and deployed with extreme care and caveats by all French leaders until Emmanuel Macron (President, 2016–present). The French revolutionary tradition does not brook such interference with the role of the state and a France gloriously alone, a duo of policies embraced with huge success by de Gaulle and still viewed with fervent nostalgia. Germany has gone much further than France in embracing a middle ground between Gaullism and Anglo-Saxon cosmopolitanism (even if we should be careful in confusing the feelings of 6 CONCLUSION: DE GAULLE AND THE ANGLO-SAXONS, 1958–1961 269

Anglo-Saxon liberals and some of the currently dominant conservatives). And one reason for this is that, again, Germany has come to terms with its past better than any other European country, unhindered by illusions of ‘victory’ and largely now unburdened by its humiliations.

From Kultur to Culture? The difference was that the key victor of 1945, the United States, wished to include as many of the vanquished in the order as possible, if only through an instinctive understanding of the necessity for leaders to have proper followers. David Mayers writes that:

Washington in the ﬁrst years after World War II, and in response to that conﬂagration, sought to reform international society. This ambition stemmed from the idea that the United States and its allies for their collective sake had to improve upon inherited practice, its recent failure evident in war-battered Europe and Asia.99

The United States was to become in effect, in John Ikenberry’s term, a ‘Liberal Leviathan’, with all that implies for the use and abuse of great power.100 So much of the New World Order was to hinge on the development of new norms, practices and institutional structures, what international relations theorists came to call ‘regimes’ in the 1970s.101 That way of thinking about the world assumes that power, the central idea that realist thinkers in international relations since time immemorial see as a primordial driver of change, has to be juxtaposed with the liberal idea of cooperation. In effect, it posits that leaders, so called because of their power, have to have more or less willing followers, for what Mayers above calls ‘their collective sake.’ And this gave the Europeans, and especially the French and the Germans, an opportunity to develop a totally new relationship. The development of that thinking and practice can be traced both through the diplomatic and political record, but also through that which we can loosely call the imaginary, as traced by thinkers and writers. In de Rouge- mont’s terms, first evoked in 1938, this is about the transition from a world of ‘mythe’, through a more concretely understood ‘mystique’, to an eventually emerging ‘politique’. It required a re-thinking of Western Europe’s understanding of its relationship with the romantic nationalist 270 A. J. WILLIAMS past and its inevitable corollary of perpetual war into a very different way of understanding the world.102 Arguably that process continues today. Lara Feigel has charted the extraordinary panoply of such people, with a particular emphasis on, to name but a few, the British (Stephen Spender, W. H. Auden, Rebecca West), the Americans (Martha Gelhorn, Ernest Hemingway, Lee Miller), and the German and Austrians ‘sent to Ger- many in the uniform of the conquerors’, like Klaus and Erika Mann (as well as their father Thomas), and film directors Carl Zuckmayer and Billy Wilder.103 To this, by no means exhaustive list, we could add the prodi- gious efforts of the cultural agencies, such as the British Council, Pathé News, and the Allied Control Commission, who produced huge numbers of propaganda films to educate the starving Germans in the ways of democracy and peace. One example of 1946, A Defeated People, has a young William Hartnell commentating over pictures of huge swathes of destroyed German bridges, towns and lines of refugees and demoralised POWs. In one scene, he intones over heart-breaking scenes of young blond children sitting among the ruins how one of them has the ‘eyes of a dead rabbit’.104 Feigel’s book is as much about the family and emotional entanglements of the artists and writers, and all the more interesting for that, as about the cultural ideas they tried to convey. But Feigel’s ultimate conclusion is that these efforts can be said to have failed insofar as Germany, by 1956 at least, ‘had not been fundamentally denazified, democratised or re-educated’. This was in spite of the vast rebuilding of opera houses, theatres and cultural centres. In the 1950s she comments that ‘the majority of Germans [still] saw themselves as victims, as they had in 1945’.105 One area where Feigel does give some cause for optimism of a lasting change among German values was in the French contribution. The French played an often understated and significant role in German cultural institution-building after 1945, including the establishment of universities at Mayence and in the Saarland, and re-building the older universities of Freiburg and Tübingen. They also played a key role in establishing the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung. Rainer Hudemann even claims that the French greatly exceeded the other Allies in terms of its cultural activity, with ‘vast campaigns to invite artists, writers and theatre troupes’, though it must said that the American and Soviet activity left a more lasting international impression, as with the activities of Berthold Brecht in the East, and the impact of American cinema and the visit of Thomas Mann in the West.106 But an aspect that Hudemann also stresses was a key 6 CONCLUSION: DE GAULLE AND THE ANGLO-SAXONS, 1958–1961 271

French contribution, that of ‘human capital’, of which the longest lasting was the beginnings of the cultural exchanges now known as the Erasmus university exchange system. Emmanuel Mounier and Alfred Grosser, the celebrated French specialist of IR, were two of those most implicated in this early process through the Comité français d’échanges avec l’Allemagne nouvelle.107 Equally, a nation that had established itself as a leader in Kultur,acom- plex and difficult idea often conflated with militarism (as in war posters of Prussian gorillas with ‘Militarism’ emblazoned on their helmets and ‘Kultur’ on an accompanying cudgel)108 could maybe only be inspired by lofty ideals. As many of the greatest German philosophers, and most notably Martin Heidegger, had thrown in their lot with the Nazis, it is interesting that the philosophical tradition that emerged from the existentialist ideas of Heidegger and his (anti-Nazi) forebear and one-time teacher, Edmund Husserl, was the standard bearer of a new freedom after 1945. Jean-Paul Sartre’s wartime play, Les Mouches [The Flies] was produced in Paris during the Occupation in 1943. A retelling of the classic Greek legend of the Oresteia it was seen in Paris as a reaction against the shame felt by the French about their lack of resistance to Vichy in 1940. When translated to Germany after the war it was immediately perceived by a German audience as another country ‘paralysed by its shame’, this time about accepting Hitler and the Nazis. But as Sartre himself wrote, as for the French, ‘for the Germans, too, I think that remorse is pointless. … they won’t earn the forgiveness they could get from the world just by being obligingly repentant. They will earn it rather by total, sincere commitment to a future of freedom and work, by their firm desire to build this future, and by the presence among them of as many men of goodwill as possible.’109 Feigel writes that the play was ‘the theatrical sensation of the year when it opened [in Berlin] in 1948 … [Sartre and de Beauvoir were] … bringing existentialism triumphantly into a Germany much in need of a new philosophy’.110 It was of course one that had at least some of its major roots in German philosophy itself, so we could see this literary effort as a cultural parallel to Monnet’s action solidaire.

The Final Word to Germany? The relationship that created a new Europe after 1945 was to prove one that in some ways sidelined both the British and the United States. France turned slowly but surely to a close relationship with Germany. This was 272 A. J. WILLIAMS certainly de Gaulle’s case. It was also that of French writers like Résistant Albert Camus, and Romain Gary, who served in the Free French Air- force, and also saw future cooperation between France and Germany as the only ultimate hope for a martyred Europe. This support for Germany was a little back-handed, for in the words of Gary’s dying hero in his 1945 novel Education Européene, Germany had showed how ‘the Russians, the Americans, all that, they have shown that there is a growing fraternity in the world, the Germans have at least given us that [Les Russes, les Améri- cains, tout ça… Il y a une grande fraternité qui se prépare au monde, les Allemands nous auront valu au moins ça’]’.111 German aggression had showed the way to a better Europe through bringing in the Americans and Russians. That the Americans and British had different ideas as to how that should develop would have to be the subject of a subsequent volume on the 1960s and 1970s.

Notes

1. Robert Dallek, Kennedy: An Unﬁnished Life (London: Penguin, 2003), pp. 455–461. 2. For a good bibliography of the French involvement in Vietnam, again see Logevall, Embers of War, ‘Further Reading’, pp. 797–801. The literature on the American phase (1961–1975) of the Vietnam War is vast, but for a summary guide, see (among others) Louis A. Peake, The United States and the Vietnam War, 1954–1975: A Selected Annotated Bibliography of English-Language Sources (London: Routledge, 2007). Autobiographies that are reasonably truthful include: Robert McNamara, In Retrospect (New York: Random House, 1996); H. R. McMaster, Dereliction of Duty: Johnson, McNamara, the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the Lies That Led to Vietnam (New York: Harper, 2017). See also Thomas A. Swartz, Lyndon Johnson and Europe: In the Shadow of Vietnam (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2003); James M. Blight and Janet M. Lang, The Fog of War: Lessons from the Life of Robert S. McNamara (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littleﬁeld, 2005); and Daniel Ellsberg, Secrets: A Mem- oir of Vietnam and the Pentagon Papers (New York: Viking, 2002). 3. Wolfram Kaiser and J.-H. Meyer (ed.), European Integration, Polity- Building and Policy-Making, 1958–1992 (Basingstoke: Palgrave, 2013); Piers Ludlow, Dealing with Britain: The Six and the First UK Application to the EEC (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997). 4. The expression comes from: Robert Wohl, The Generation of 1914 (Lon- don: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1980). 5. Alistair Horne, Macmillan: 1957–1986 (London: Macmillan, 1989). 6 CONCLUSION: DE GAULLE AND THE ANGLO-SAXONS, 1958–1961 273

6. A friendship that continued when he was Prime Minister: Anthony O. Edmonds, Eisenhower, Macmillan and Allied Unity 1957–61 (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003). 7. Stephen Ambrose, Eisenhower: Soldier and President (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1990), pp. 521–522. 8. Horne, Macmillan, p. 582. 9. A good survey of this mythology is: Sudhir Hazareesingh, In the Shadow of the General: Modern France and the Myth of De Gaulle (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012). See also Jackson, A Certain Idea of France, Introduction, pp. ix–xl and Chapter 30, ‘Myth, Legacy and Achievement’, pp. 762–777. 10. Mark Kramer, ‘Introduction’, in Christian Nuenlist, Anna Locher, and Garret Martin (eds.), Globalizing de Gaulle: International Perspectives on French Foreign Policies, 1958–1969 (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2010), p. 3. 11. Susan Strange, States and Markets (London: Pinter, 1988). 12. The classic description of this is: Karl Polanyi, The Great Transforma- tion: The Political and Economic Origins of Our Time (1944) (London: Beacon, 2002). 13. See Chapter 5, pp. 191–192. 14. Garret Martin, General de Gaulle’s Cold War: Challenging American Hegemony, 1963–1968 (Oxford: Berghahn, 2013), p. 2. 15. Carolyne Davidson, ‘Dealing with de Gaulle: The United States and France’, in Nuenlist, Locher, and Martin (eds.), Globalizing de Gaulle, p. 112. 16. Macmillan to Eisenhower and Eisenhower to Macmillan, 18 July 1958, Box 11, Macmillan–Lloyd, JFD Subject Files, Eisenhower Library. 17. On Bermuda, see ‘Prime Minister Macmillan’s Correspondence with President Eisenhower’, January–May 1957, Box 11, JFD Subject Files, Eisenhower Library. The Canossa reference by the classically-trained Macmillan refers to Holy Roman Emperor Henry IV’s humiliating visit to Pope Gregory VII in 1077CE: Horne, Macmillan, p. 23. 18. Salan was also a key organiser of a coup d’état in Algeria in April 1961, after which he became a diehard enemy of de Gaulle, whom he considered had betrayed French Algeria: Martin Alexander and John Keiger (eds.), France and the Algerian War, 1954–1962: Strategy, Operations and Diplomacy (London: Routledge, 2013); Martin Alexander, Mar- tin Evans, and John Keiger (eds.), The Algerian War and the French Army, 1954–1962: Experiences, Images, Testimonies (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002). 19. Georges Ayache, Le retour du Général de Gaulle (Paris: Perrin, 2015), Section 3. 274 A. J. WILLIAMS

20. Dulles, ‘Telephone Call to the President’, 22 September 1957; Macmil- lan to Dulles, 3 March 1958, Macmillan–Lloyd, Box 11, JFD Subject Files, Eisenhower Library. 21. Charles de Gaulle, Mémoires d’espoir: Le Renouveau (1958–1962) (Paris: Plon, 1970), pp. 131–139. 22. Martin, General de Gaulle’s Cold War,p.2. 23. Ayache, Le retour du Général de Gaulle, p. 168. 24. Karl Marx’s term for the overthrow of the 2nd Republic by Napoleon IIIrd in 1851, often used as a shorthand for the bloodless assumption of power, as was that by Napoleon Ist in 1799. 25. Lacouture, De Gaulle: The Ruler, 1945–1970, p. 164 and Chapter 14. See also Jackson, De Gaulle, Chapter 18. Ayache, Le retour du Général de Gaulle, Section 3 and passim, gives a summary of the alleged ‘plot’ that bought de Gaulle to power in May 1958. 26. François Mauriac, De Gaulle (Paris: Grasset, 1964), p. 344. 27. Frederick Kempe, Berlin 1961: Kennedy, Khrushchev, and the Most Dan- gerous Place on Earth (New York: Putnam, 2011). 28. SDECE, ‘“America” ou “Russie”’, 24 May 1946 [received 5 August 1946], MAE, File 308, B-Amérique, 1944–1952. 29. Kal J. Holsti, ‘National Role Conceptions in the Study of Foreign Policy’, p. 271. 30. Martin, General de Gaulle’s Cold War,p.3. 31. Jason W. Davidson, The Origins of Revisionist and Status-Quo States (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006). Davidson is part of the school of international relations theory that espouses ‘power transition theory’. 32. William T. R. Fox, The Super-Powers: The United States, Britain, and the Soviet Union-Their Responsibility for Peace (New York: Harcourt Brace, 1944). 33. Bonnet to Bidault, 13 and 14 April 1945, Box 7, Série Y Interna- tionale, 1944–1949, May–December 1945. It might be added that Bon- net realised that Missourians’ ‘stubborness is legendary [leur entêtement … est légendaire]’, but he only said this to Bidault in February 1946 [same series, 20 February 1946]. 34. Jean-Reymond Tournoux, La tragédie du Général (Paris: Plon, 1967), p. 199, referred to in Ayache, Le retour du Général de Gaulle, p. 209. 35. The ‘Big Three Alliance’, doc. cit. supra. The ‘chill’ theory was widely reported in the press on 7 December 1953 at the Bermuda Conference. For more on these meetings see FRUS, Foreign Relations of the United States, 1952–1954, Western European Security, Volume V, Part 2 (Wash- ington, DC: United States Government Printing Ofﬁce, 1983). 36. Bonnet to Bidault, 6 December 1946, Box 9, MAE Série Y Affaires Politiques Etats-Unis, 1944–1952. Figures for ‘liking’ the French were 36.9% as against 48.5% for the Germans. 6 CONCLUSION: DE GAULLE AND THE ANGLO-SAXONS, 1958–1961 275

37. David Halberstam, The Best and the Brightest (New York, NY: Ballantine Books, 1972). Many of the best biographies of these denizens of the 1960s Washington Establishment concentrate on the Vietnam War era, so mostly after Kennedy’s death. See, for example, David Milne, Amer- ica’s Rasputin: Walt Rostow and the Vietnam War (New York: Hill & Wang, 2009); McNamara, In Retrospect, and others. 38. Logevall, Embers of War, p. 702. 39. For more on the impact of Parsons on the study of international relations see the forthcoming issue on the ‘1953–1954 Council on Foreign Relations Study Group Meeting’ in the International History Review [to be published in 2020]. On modernisation see footnote 40; Nils Gilman, Mandarins of the Future: Modernization in Cold War America (Balti- more: Johns Hopkins Press, 2003). 40. The literature on this is copious. Good introductions include: David Ekbladh, Great American Mission: Modernization and the Creation of an American World Order (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2010); Odd Arne Westad, The Global Cold War: Third World Inter- ventions and the Making of Our Times (New York: Cambridge Univer- sity Press, 2007); Nils Gilman, Mandarins of the Future, op. cit.; David C. Engerman, Nils Gilman, Mark H. Haefele, and Michael E. Latham, Staging Growth: Modernization, Development and the Global Cold War (Amherst, MA: University of Massachusetts Press, 2003). See also Seitz, The Evolving Role of Nation-Building in US Foreign Policy,op.cit. 41. Ambrose, Eisenhower, pp. 72–77, 83–86, 121–122. 42. Lacouture, De Gaulle: The Ruler, 1945–1970, pp. 367–368. 43. ‘Entretiens Paris De Gaulle-Eisenhower’, September 1959, Box 354, B- Amérique, AM 1952–1963; William Burr, ‘Avoiding the Slippery Slope: The Eisenhower Administration and the Berlin Crisis, November 1958– January 1959’, Diplomatic History, Vol. 18, No. 2, 1994, pp. 177–205. 44. Lacouture, De Gaulle: The Ruler, 1945–1970, p. 369. 45. Lacouture, ibid; Nigel Ashton, Macmillan, Khrushchev and the Berlin Crisis, 1958–1960 (London: Routledge, 2007). 46. Brieﬁng Files, de Gaulle in the United States (22–26 April 1960), mem- orandums of 30 March 1960, Box 355, B-Amérique, AM 1952–1963. 47. ‘Relations culturelles entre la France et les Etats-Unis’, 30 March 1960, Box 355, B-Amérique, AM 1952–1963. 48. Dallek, Kennedy, pp. 49–50. Other biographies of Kennedy include: Richard Reeves, President Kennedy: Proﬁle of Power (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1993); Theodore Sorensen, Leaders of Our Time: Kennedy (New York: Konecky and Konecky, 1999). Dallek is arguably the best at blending Kennedy’s personal and political life story. 49. De Gaulle speeches of 18 March 1944, July 1961, NSF Country Series France, Box 70; ‘Program for President Kennedy’s Visit to Paris, May 276 A. J. WILLIAMS

31–June 3 1961’, NSF Trips and Conferences, Box 233; all John Fitzgerald Kennedy Presidential Library, Boston MA (hereafter Kennedy Library). 50. Rostow was another major architect of the modernisation and development policies of the Kennedy and Johnson Administrations. He explained his view of their logic in: Walt Rostow, Eisenhower, Kennedy and Foreign Aid (Austin, TX: University of Texas Press, 1985). For a good discussion of Rostow’s beliefs and his impact see Seitz, The Evolving Role of Nation-Building in US Foreign Policy, Chapter 5. 51. Again, the best account of this can be found in: Ludlow, Dealing with Britain,op.cit. 52. For a fuller picture of American policy in Europe under Kennedy, see FRUS, Foreign Relations of the United States, 1961–1963, Volume XIII, Western Europe and Canada (Washington, DC: United States Govern- ment Printing Office, 1994). 53. For one example of this see ‘Britain’s Cake-and-Eat-It Brexit Routine Wears Thin with Barnier’, The Guardian, 31 August 2017, https:// www.theguardian.com/politics/2017/aug/31/britain-cake-and-eat-it- brexit-routine-michel-barnier (accessed 15 July 2019). 54. Walt Rostow, ‘Memorandum to the President’, 18 May 1961, NSF Country Series France, Box 70, Kennedy Library. 55. Macmillan to Dulles, 5 September 1958, Box 11, Macmillan–Lloyd, JFD Subject Files, Eisenhower Library. 56. ‘Discussions with Rusk’, 3 June 1961; Richard David Vine, ‘Position Paper: European Integration’, 22 May 1961: ‘Program for President Kennedy’s Visit to Paris, May 31–June 3 1961’, NSF Trips and Con- ferences, Box 233, Kennedy Library. 57. Chauvel (London) to MAE, ‘Séjour à Paris du Président Kennedy, 31 mai-2 juin 1961’, Box 356, AM 1952–1963, USA. 58. Komer was later on a significant figure in President Johnson’s Vietnam policies, where he picked up his nickname ‘Blowtorch Bob’, bestowed on him by American Ambassador to South Vietnam Henry Cabot Lodge. He was blamed by some for misleading Johnson about the non-success of the ‘hearts and minds policy’. See Frank Leith Jones, Blowtorch: Robert Komer, Vietnam and American Cold War Strategy (Annapolis, MR: Naval Institute Press, 2013). 59. Komer, ‘Program for President Kennedy’s Visit to Paris …’: ‘Position Paper: Relations with the Soviet Bloc’, 22 May 1961, NSF Box 233, Kennedy Library. 60. Alphand (Washington) to de Gaulle and MAE (various), 11 May 1961, Box 356, AM 1952–1963, USA. 61. On the 1960–1965 Congo Crisis see Alanna O’Malley, The Diplomacy of Decolonisation: America, Britain and the United Nations During the 6 CONCLUSION: DE GAULLE AND THE ANGLO-SAXONS, 1958–1961 277

Congo Crisis 1960–64 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2018). See also Alan James, Britain and the Congo Crisis, 1960–63 (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 1996). 62. Alphand (Washington) to de Gaulle and MAE (various), 11 May 1961, Box 356, AM 1952–1963, USA. 63. Tripartite Memorandum of Conversation: Kennedy, Chaban-Delmas and Alphand, 10 March 1961; Gavin to Rusk, 22 March 1961: NSF Country Series France, Box 70, Kennedy Library; Chaban Delmas to the Assem- blée Nationale, 17 March 1961, ‘Séjour à Paris du Président Kennedy’, 31 mai-2 juin 1961, MAE Box 356, AM 1952–1963, USA. 64. Dallek, Kennedy, p. 395. 65. Hazareesingh, In the Shadow of the General, p. 166. See also Henri- Christian Giraud, Réplique à l’Amiral de Gaulle (Paris: Editions du Rocher, 2004). 66. Robert Komer, ‘Memorandum for the President: … Jean Monnet’, n.d. February 1961, NSF Country Series France, Box 70, Kennedy Library. 67. Schlesinger, ‘Memorandum for Mr. McGeorge Bundy’, 8 May 1961, NSF Country Series France, Box 70, Kennedy Library. 68. Kempe, Berlin 1961, op. cit; Dallek, Kennedy, pp. 407–414. 69. ‘McGeorge Bundy for the President’, 5 April 1961; ‘Memorandum: A New Approach to France’, 21 April 1961, NSF Country Series France, Box 70, Kennedy Library. 70. Rusk to Paris Embassy (Gavin), 5 May 1961, NSF Country Series France, Box 70, Kennedy Library. France’s nuclear force is still tactical. Its ﬁrst atomic test was carried out in February 1960. 71. Dallek, Kennedy, pp. 396–397. 72. Martin, General de Gaulle’s Cold War,Chapter4andpassim; Gabrielle Hecht, The Radiance of France: Nuclear Power and National Identity After World War II (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2009); and Wilfred L. Kohl, French Nuclear Diplomacy (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2015). 73. Paul Kennedy, Grand Strategies in War and Peace (New Haven, NJ: Yale University Press, 1991), pp. 2–4; Hal Brands, What Good Is Grand Strat- egy? Power and Purpose in American Statecraft from Harry S. Truman to George W. Bush (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2014). 74. Michael H. Hunt, Ideology and US Foreign Policy (New Haven, NJ: Yale University Press, 1987). 75. Martin, General de Gaulle’s Cold War, pp. 1–3. 76. I have explored these in: Andrew J. Williams, ‘Charles De Gaulle: The Warrior as Statesman’, Global Society: Journal of Interdisciplinary Inter- national Relations, Vol. 32, No. 2, April 2018, pp. 162–175. 77. Lacouture, De Gaulle: The Ruler, pp. 333–334; Charles de Gaulle, Le FildeL’épéeetautresécrits(Paris: Plon, 1990), p. 144. Some of this 278 A. J. WILLIAMS

paragraph is taken from Williams, ‘Charles De Gaulle: The Warrior as Statesman’. The Hamlet quote is from Act 4, Scene 4 of the eponymous play. One modern translation is: ‘[t]o be truly great doesn’t mean you’d only fight for a good reason. It means you’d fight over nothing if your honor was at stake’, https://www.sparknotes.com/nofear/shakespeare/ hamlet/page_232/ (accessed 19 July 2019). 78. Georges Ayache, Le retour du Général de Gaulle, pp. 158–161. Ayache is here quoting from Tournoux, La tragédie du Général, p. 140. 79. See Ludlow, Dealing with Britain, and, by the same author: Piers Lud- low, The European Community and the Crises of the 1960s: Negotiating the Gaullist Challenge (London: Routledge, 2006); ‘The Emergence of a Commercial Heavy-Weight: The Kennedy Round Negotiations and the European Community of the 1960s’, Diplomacy and Statecraft, Vol 18, 2007, pp. 351–368. For an introduction to the establishment of the GATT, see Thomas Zeiler, Free Trade: Free World: The Advent of GATT (Chapel Hill: University of North Caroline Press, 1999). 80. Ludlow, Dealing with Britain, p. 7. Ludlow cites two major advocates of the de Gaulle thesis: John Newhouse, De Gaulle and the Anglo-Saxons (London: André Deutch, 1970); and Françoise de La Serre, ‘De Gaulle et la candidature britannique à la Communauté européenne’, in Institut Charles de Gaulle (ed.), De Gaulle en son siècle (Paris: Plon, 1992), Vol. V, pp. 192–202, both Ludlow, Dealing with Britain,p.5. 81. Wieviorka, The French Resistance, p. 458 and Chapter 18, ‘A Divided Memory’, especially p. 461. 82. Denis de Rougemont, L’amour et l’Occident (Paris: Plon, 1972), p. 19. 83. On neo-liberalism, see Chapter 3, pp. 85–86. See also Quinn Slobodian, Globalists: The End of Empire and the Birth of Neoliberalism (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2018). 84. Richard Bellamy, Rethinking Liberalism (London: Continuum, 2000); Christopher Ansell, Pragmatist Democracy: Evolutionary Learning in Public Philosophy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), pp. 13–14. 85. Georges Sorel, Reflections on Violence (New York: Peter Smith, 1941); ‘Letter to Daniel Halévy, July 15 1907’, pp. 1–42. 86. De Gaulle, Le Fil de L’épée et autres écrits; ‘Schlesinger Memorandum for Mr. McGeorge Bundy’, 8 May 1961, NSF Country Series France, Box 70, Kennedy Library. 87. Patrick Salmon, Keith Hamilton, and Stephen Twigge (eds.), German Unification 1989–1990: Documents on British Policy Overseas, Series III, Volume VII (London: Routledge, 2012). 88. Helle Porsdam, ‘Human Rights and European Identity Since World War II: Verganenheitsbewältigung Through Law’, in Menno Spiering and Michael Wintle (eds.), European Identity and the Second World War 6 CONCLUSION: DE GAULLE AND THE ANGLO-SAXONS, 1958–1961 279

(London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011), pp. 23–25; Ulrich Beck, Cos- mopolitan Vision (Cambridge: Polity Press, 2006); and see also David Miles, Constitutionalism, Democracy, and the Liberal State: A Compar- ative Analysis of American and German Constitutionalism (London: Routledge, forthcoming). 89. Porsdam, ‘Human Rights and European Identity…’, p. 22. 90. Again, see Slobodian, Globalists, op. cit.; Alain Laurent, Le libéralisme américain: Histoire d’un détournement (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 2006). 91. Margaret Thatcher, 14 April 1988, https://www.margaretthatcher.org/ document/107219. 92. Monica Riera and Gavin Schaffer (eds.), The Lasting War: Society and Identity in Britain and Germany After 1945 (London: Palgrave Macmil- lan, 2008), pp. 1–3. 93. Kissinger’s possibly apocryphal remark is constantly quoted, a sign of its verisimilitude: Gideon Rachman, ‘Kissinger Never Wanted to Dial Europe’, Financial Times, 22 July 2009. 94. Riera and Schaffer, The Lasting War…,p.3. 95. Claude Lanzmann, Preface by Simone de Beauvoir, Shoah: The Complete Text of the Acclaimed Holocaust Film (New York: Da Capo Press, 1995). 96. Fintan O’Toole, Heroic Failure: Brexit and the Politics of Pain (Lon- don: Apollo Kindle Edition, 2018), well summed up by O’Toole, ‘The Paranoid Fantasy Behind Brexit’, The Guardian,23Novem- ber 2018, https://www.theguardian.com/news/audio/2018/nov/23/ the-paranoid-fantasy-behind-brexit-podcast. See reply by Mary Kenny, ‘There’s More to Brexit Than the Brits Yearning for Their Empire’, Irish Independent, 1 December 2018, https://www.pressreader.com/ireland/ irish-independent/20181201/282114932639855 (accessed 12 August 2019). 97. It is one of the five most popular films in France according to ‘Alllociné’, http://www.allocine.fr/film/fichefilm_gen_cfilm=4307.html (accessed 12 August 2019). 98. John Lamberton Harper, American Visions of Europe: Franklin D. Roo- sevelt, George F. Kennan and Dean G. Acheson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994). 99. David Mayers, ‘Destruction Repaired and Destruction Anticipated: UNRRA, the Atomic Bomb, and U.S. Policy 1944–46’, International History Review, Vol. 38, No. 5, 2016, pp. 961–983. See also David Mayers, America and the Postwar World: Remaking International Society (London: Routledge, 2018), pp. 946–953. 100. John. G. Ikenberry, Liberal Leviathan: The Origins, Crisis, and Trans- formation of the American World Order: The Rise, Decline and Renewal (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2011). 280 A. J. WILLIAMS

101. A good introduction to ‘regime theory’ can be found in: Robert Keo- hane and Joseph Nye, Transnational Relations and World Politics (Cam- bridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1973); Robert Keohane and Joseph Nye, Power and Interdependence: World Politics in Transition (Boston, MA: Little Brown, 1977). 102. De Rougemont, L’amour et l’Occident, p. 263 et passim. 103. Lara Feigel, The Bitter Taste of Victory: Life, Love and Art in the Ruins of the Reich (London: Bloomsbury, 2016), pp. x–xi. 104. Allied Control Commission of Germany; Crown Film Unit, A Defeated People: A Film About the Government of the British Occupied Zone of Germany (London: Imperial War Museum, 1946), CVN252, https:// ﬁlm.iwmcollections.org.uk/record/1370 (accessed 12 August 2019). 105. Feigel, The Bitter Taste of Victory, p. 358. 106. Rainer Hudemann, ‘L’occupation française après 1945 et les relations franco-allemandes’, Vingtième Siècle, No. 55, July–August 1997, pp. 58– 68. 107. Hudemann, ‘L’occupation française après 1945…’, op. cit. 108. ‘Destroy this mad brute’, created by Harry R. Hopps in 1917/1918, Library of Congress, http://www.loc.gov/pictures/item/2010652057/ (accessed 12 August 2019). 109. Sartre quoted by Sarah Bakewell, At the Existentialist Café: Freedom, Being and Apricot Cocktails, op. cit., p. 203. 110. Feigel, The Bitter Taste of Victory, p. 252. 111. Albert Camus, ‘L’avenir de la Civilisation Européenne’, in Camus (ed.), Conférences et discours, 1936–1958 (Paris: Gallimard, 2017), p. 233; Romain Gary, Education Européene (Paris: Gallimard, 1956) [ﬁrst published 1945], p. 246. Bibliography

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© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2020 281 A. J. Williams, France, Britain and the United States in the Twentieth Century: Volume 2, 1940–1961, Studies in Diplomacy and International Relations, https://doi.org/10.1057/978-1-137-41444-1 282 BIBLIOGRAPHY

Groupe Jean Jaurès, Fonds Louis Lévy, Office Universitaire de Recherche Socialiste (OURS), Paris. Hopkins (Harry) Roosevelt Presidential Library. Kennan (George F.) Seeley G. Mudd Memorial Library, Princeton University. Kennedy, John Fitzgerald, Kennedy Presidential Library. Kenney (Rowland) Churchill College, Cambridge. Lehman (Herbert) Columbia University Library. Ministry of Foreign Affairs Archives, Quai d’Orsay, Paris: [among others] Vichy, ‘International’; Cabinet du Ministre (Affaires Etrangères) Affaires politiques: Série Y, Internationale„ Etats – Unis; 1944–49 B- Amérique, 1944–1952 AM 1952–1963, Etats Unis Massigli (René) Papers National Archives, London (formerly Public Record Office) Foreign Office Correspondence: FO 371/ Treasury: T160/ Noel-Baker (Philip) Churchill College, Cambridge. Mollet (Guy) OURS, Paris. Pasvolsky (Leo) Library of Congress. PEP (Political and Economic Planning), B.L.P.E.S, London. Roosevelt (Franklin Delano) Roosevelt Presidential Library Shotwell (James) Columbia University Library. Stimson (Henry) Library of Congress. Truman (Harry S.) Truman Presidential Library. Welles (Sumner) Roosevelt Presidential Library.

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A disagreements among intellectuals Abyssinia (Ethiopia), 189 about, 217 Acheson, Dean, 93, 111, 131, 134, French justiﬁcation of occupation 148, 153, 166, 172, 173, 179, of, 190 180, 191, 193, 198, 200, 202, Front de Libération National 203, 228, 231, 258–261 (FLN), 211, 217, 224–226, Adenauer, Konrad, 204, 240, 244, 239 257, 262 Harkis, 225, 236 and Franco-German rapprochement, and North Africa, 184, 190, 208, 127, 128 210, 215, 226, 243 Aid, 207, 223. See also Trade Pieds noirs, 199, 225 and development, 3, 4, 6, 14, 20, and USA, 15, 16, 21, 37, 183–185, 96, 128, 158, 207, 223 203, 210–212, 216, 219–221, and modernisation, 45, 137, 159, 226, 251, 252 250 War of Independence, 183, 208, Algeria. See also Morocco; North 224 Africa; Tunisia Allied Commissions of Control and consequences for French (ACC), 110, 153 politics, 128, 210 Alphand, Hervé, 39, 70, 90, 215, and de Gaulle, 15, 31, 38, 62, 63, 216, 234, 251, 254, 256, 276, 127, 128, 130, 183, 216, 220, 277 239, 243–245, 251, 252 Alsace-Lorraine, 47

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2020 309 A. J. Williams, France, Britain and the United States in the Twentieth Century: Volume 2, 1940–1961, Studies in Diplomacy and International Relations, https://doi.org/10.1057/978-1-137-41444-1 310 INDEX

Anglo-American Relations. See Special Auriol, Vincent, 42, 56, 71, 75, 96, Relationship 127, 130, 131, 133, 136, 172, Anglo-French Relations. See Britain; 173, 189, 200, 227 France Australia, 185, 187, 262 and European integration, 89, 126, Avenol, Joseph, 97, 115, 117, 143, 128, 131, 133, 149, 151, 160, 174. See also Blum, Léon 162, 164, 165, 188, 205, 216, andLeagueofNations,8, 17, 32, 240, 241, 257 38, 58, 79, 83, 97, 107, 114, and First World War, 1, 6, 17, 62, 143, 197 78, 80, 82, 96, 102, 109, 139, 140, 144, 154, 160, 161, 185, B 186, 240, 247 Beauvoir, Simone de andSecondWorldWar,1, 2, 8, and gender, 18 12, 13, 15, 22, 25, 27, 31, importance of, 18, 30, 271 34, 63, 72, 78, 82, 83, 88, relations with Sartre, 18, 26, 30, 100–103, 106, 134, 155, 160, 271 177, 184–186, 196, 224, 227, writings of, 18 240–242, 245–247, 249, 259, Belgium, 27, 93, 101, 108, 109, 143, 263, 268 150, 262 Treaty of Dunkirk, 1947, 188 Benoist-Méchin, Jacques, 44, 45, 50, ‘Anglosphere’, 16, 19, 90, 189, 268 71, 73 ‘Appeasement’, 11, 211 Bergson, Henri, 6, 7, 17, 30, 61, 62, evoked in Suez Crisis, 21, 128, 165, 261, 264, 265 184, 185, 195, 209–211, 220 importance of, 7 Armstrong, Hamilton Fish, 74, 80 inﬂuence on de Gaulle, 6, 7, 61, and Council on Foreign Relations 62, 261, 265 (CFR), 55, 78, 140, 196 Berle, Adolf, 68, 80, 81, 85, 93, 97, Aron, Raymond 111, 117 on democracy, 156 Berlin Wall, erection of, 245, 251 Bermuda Conference, 1953, 164, friendship with St.-Exupéry, 33 205, 274 and Mitrany, 155 Beveridge Report, 1942, 90, 91, 169 Atlantic Charter, 1941, 34, 63, 97, and ‘Social Security’, 86, 89, 158 126, 132, 220, 242 Bevin, Ernest, 108, 131, 143, attitudes towards in Britain and 149–151, 160, 176, 179, 188, France, 239 189, 193, 226, 227 Attlee, Clement, 132, 150–152, 155, as Foreign Secretary, 108, 143, 149, 157, 158, 169, 176, 178, 191, 150, 188 247 and‘ThirdWorldPower’,176, 188, election of 1945, 138 226, 227 relations with USA, 132, 138, 152, Bidault, Georges, 110, 111, 129, 130, 191 153, 160, 165, 171, 177, 179, INDEX 311

180, 203–207, 230, 231, 247, as post-war economic model, 55, 248, 274 219, 221 as French Foreign Minister, 165 debates on ‘decline’ of, 21 ‘Blitzkrieg’, 27, 31 in First and Second World Wars, Bloch, Marc, 69, 104, 119 227 Blum, Léon in the Middle East, 214 and Britain, 142–144 Second World War, 12, 27, 34 and Eurafrique, 188 British Empire correspondence with Avenol, 143 and British Labour Party, 92, 158, views on Europe of, 45, 106, 141, 168 143 and Commonwealth, 98, 150, 188, wartime trial and captivity of, 86 192, 219, 221, 255 Bohlen, Charles, 135, 136, 141, 198, and ‘Greater Britain’, 219 255 atrocities committed in, 267 Bonnet, Henri, 126, 127, 165 decolonisation of, 184 Boris, Georges, 56, 64, 94, 116 ideas of belonging and citizenship, and de Gaulle, 64 187 and SFIO, 56 in First and Second World Wars, Bowman, Isaiah, 79–81, 87, 98, 221 227 disagreements with Pasvolsky about reliance on ‘native’ troops, 190 PWP, 79 and Round Table, 150, 186, 221 Bretton Woods Organisations, 86, 87, and USA, 219 136, 149, 241 British International Studies Associa- ‘Brexit’ tion (BISA), 8 and the Labour Party, 37, 38, 83, Bruce, David, 135, 165, 169, 84, 86, 91, 92, 94, 108, 114, 200–202 129, 137, 142, 149, 150, 155, Buchan, John (aka Lord Tweedsmuir), 157, 158, 168, 169, 178, 192, 187 229 Bundy, McGeorge, 258, 277 debate over, 21 Butler, Richard ‘Rab’, 165 Britain (aka United Kingdom) in 1940, 5, 8, 27, 33–35, 62, 139, 142, 146, 152, 156, 187, 188 C and ‘Brexit’, 21, 192, 268 Caffery, Jefferson, 135, 140 and ‘Special Relationship’, 90, 187, Camus, Albert, 13, 18, 24, 26, 185, 193 216, 236, 272, 280 and European integration, 149, 151 Carr,EdwardHallet,79, 222, 223 and France, 55 Casablanca Conference, 1943, 52, 59 and Germany, 17, 41, 266 Cassin, René, 19, 26, 39, 54, 56 and Suez Crisis, 1956, 21, 185, Céline, Louis-Ferdinand 211, 220 anti-semitism of, 32 and the USA (1940-1945), 6 collaboration activities, 124 312 INDEX

writings of, 32 Cole, G.D.H., 155, 157, 158, 178. Césaire, Aimé, 18 See also ‘planning’ and French intelligentsia, 218–219 and Labour Party, 157 US views of, 205 ‘Collaboration’, 7, 18, 28, 42, 44, 46, Chaban-Delmas, Jacques, 256, 257 71, 225. See also ‘Humiliation’; Chamberlain, Neville, 33, 34 ‘Liberation’; Resistance replaced by Churchill, 34 changed use of after 1940, 28 Chatham House (aka RIIA), 8, 34, in context of de/colonisation, 216 79, 140 ‘Commission to Study the Organiza- and PWP, 79 tion of the Peace’, 190. See also Chauvel, Jean, 255 Post-war planning (PWP) attitudes to imperialism, 190 China and PWP, 190 de Gaulle on, 13, 220, 256 Commonwealth. See British Empire and ‘Open Door’, 9 ‘Corporatism’, 43, 84. See also and PWP, 87 ‘Planning’ and UNRRA, 107 Cot, Pierre, 37–39, 69, 95 US attitudes towards, 132 and de Gaulle, 39 Churchill, Winston Coty, René, 96, 127, 194, 245 defence of British Empire, 221 Council on Foreign Relations (CFR), and Eisenhower, 164–166, 206, 55, 78–81, 85, 140, 196 240, 247, 248 and post-war planning (PWP), 55 and European integration, 165 Couve de Murville, Maurice, 47, 126, and FDR, 36, 52, 88, 109, 187, 127, 153, 177, 194, 209, 210, 221 226, 229, 237 and Truman, 133, 164, 247, 248 Crossman, Richard, 140, 150, 151 ‘United States of Europe’, Zurich, Cuba, 256 1946, 149 Bay of Pigs incident, 256 CIA (Central Intelligence Agency), 5, Cuban Missile Crisis, 1962, 245 43, 128, 159, 168, 190, 194, Culture 200, 202, 208, 254 ‘cultural turn’ in international reports on France, 168 relations, 6 Clay, General Lucius, 131, 147 and politics, 13, 14 Clémentel, Étienne, 139 as source of historical understand- Coal, importance of, 160, 161 ing, 221 Cold War, 16, 88, 101, 103, 125, power exercised through, 61 126, 134, 147, 148, 185, 196, Curtis, Lionel, 150, 151, 186, 187 197, 220–222, 239, 242, 247 . and Round Table, 150 See also Kennan, George Frost, USA ‘Containment’ policies, 14 D emergence of, 240 Dakar campaign, 1940, 77 INDEX 313

Dalton, Hugh, 37, 43, 93. See also and colonialism, 12 Special Operations Executive French thinking about, 12 (SOE) and world order, 12, 92 Darlan, Admiral François, 46, 47, 49, Depression, 1930s, impact of, 1, 106 250 De Rougement, Denis, 13, 48 and Vichy, 46, 52 and Ligue du Gothard, 48 in North Africa, 52 and ‘Myth’, 48 Darquier de Pellepoix, Louis. See Development Vichy: Commissariat aux affaires and economic wellbeing, 221 juives and Soviet planning, 148 Davis, Noman H., 80 Dien Bien Phu, 1954, 12, 207 Decolonisation, 184, 191, 218, 255 and France, 12, 207 and development, 218 and USA, 12 and race, 216 Dillon, Douglas, 135, 213, 214, 233, de Gaulle, Charles 252 and Algeria, 15, 63, 128, 130, 243, Dreyfus Affair in French politics, 17 245 and Charles Maurras, 17 character and attitudes of, 61 Dulles, Allen, 49 as democrat, 39 Dulles, John Foster early writings (pre-1939), 6 background as lawyer, 196 and Eisenhower, 250 and Eisenhower, 196, 212, 240, and Europe, 2, 4, 13, 21, 34, 41, 248 45, 60, 64, 96, 109, 112, 126, and ‘European Union’, 132 127, 130, 169, 183, 242, 244, in First World War, 140 253, 261, 262 French views of, 166, 190 Franco-Soviet Pact, 1944, 141 and ‘moral’ foreign policy, 259 and French Resistance, 50, 250 and PWP, 12 and Germany, 7, 35, 45, 47, 111, and PWP process, 132 140, 244, 255, 257, 271 as Secretary of State, 12, 140, 195, and Giraud, 52, 54, 257 204, 251 Grand Strategy of, 259, 260 Dumbarton Oaks Conference, 1943, and Kennedy, 253 59, 99, 110 myth of, 28, 127 French exclusion from, 59 and Pétain, 19, 40, 44, 51, 84 Dunkirk, 1940, 33–35, 47 relations with Churchill, 41 return to power, 1958, 245, 261 and Roosevelt, 80 E and the Fourth Republic, 96, 183, Ecole Nationale d’Administration 241, 252 (ENA), 95, 159 and USSR, 7, 64 Eden, Anthony Dejean, Maurice, 19, 39, 54, 60 and Churchill, 164, 165, 248 Democracy and de Gaulle, 41, 54 314 INDEX

and Eisenhower, 212 European integration and Suez Crisis, 1956, 165, 211 and Britain, 151, 257 Egypt, 196, 212, 213, 226. See also and EDC, 164, 205 North Africa; Suez Crisis, 1956 and Franco-German relations, 130 Eisenhower (Dwight D.) US encouragement of, 241 and de Gaulle, 250–252 European Recovery Program (aka and EDC, 134, 164, 166 Marshall Plan), 107, 123, 145 and European integration, 164, 165 European Union, 89, 126, 132, 156, as President, 2, 12, 134, 167, 183, 157, 163. See also European 198, 203, 247, 251 Economic Community (EEC) and Suez Crisis, 211 Britain, attitudes to, 35 ‘Engagement’ France, attitudes to, 261 pre-war development of, 7 USA, attitudes to, 35 ‘Epuration’ (reprisals after Liberation), Existentialism, 271 224 ‘authenticity’, 216 in Europe, 224 inﬂuence on decolonisation debates, in France, 47, 60, 100–102, 216 104–105 ‘mauvaise foi’(badfaith),216 Eritrea, 1941 campaign, 189 ‘Eurafrique’. See Bevin, Ernest, Blum, F Léon, British, French Empires Fascism European Advisory Commission and corporatism, 84 (EAC), 59, 99 in France, 53 European Coal and Steel Community ‘Federalism’ (ECSC), 137, 169 British attitudes towards, 156 and European integration, 162 Federal Union, 156 Founded, 160–162 and ‘functionalism’, 154 European Defense Community (EDC) Feis, Herbert, 81 and Britain, 164, 165, 206 ‘Force de frappe’ (French nuclear and Eisenhower, 134, 164, 166, deterrent), 166, 169, 259 167 Forces Françaises de l”intérieur – FFI. founded, 160–162 See French Resistance and France, 164–168 Foucault, Michel non-ratiﬁcation, 102 appeal of, 218 and USA, 167 Fourth (French) Republic and USSR, 167 and Algeria, 21, 245, 252 European Economic Community and Indochina, 15, 205 (EEC) politics of, 126 and Britain, 254 Fox, William T., 247 encouragement by USA, 241 and ‘Superpower’, 247 French attitudes towards, 261 France. See also Algeria, de Gaulle, Luxembourg Compromise, 170 Charles INDEX 315

British ‘arrogance’ towards, 267 and North Africa, 39, 54, 190, 195, collaboration and fascism in, 53 208, 210, 243 cultural clash with ‘Anglo-Saxons’, Organisation Internationale de la 50, 112, 170 Francophonie 1970, 199 ‘decadence’ in 1930s, 95 and Suez Crisis, 185, 195 defeat, 1940, 1, 5, 8, 19, 27, Third World ‘tiermondisme’, 184 32–35, 40, 43, 44, 263 Union Française, 1946-58, 199 and European integration, 89, 188 US attitudes towards, 202 and Fourth Republic, 2, 5, 20, 21, French Resistance (‘Free French’) 42, 127, 130, 196, 205, 220, in Algiers, 56 268 and ‘cleansing’ (épuration), 60 and Germany, 125, 149, 161, 244, Comité national d’études de la 272 Résistance, 64 interwar period, 151 Comité national français (CNF), liberation of, 1944, 60, 101 50, 54 Commission pour l’étude des and North Africa, 34, 39, 41, 46, problèmes d’après guerre, 64, 90 54, 59, 60, 195, 209, 210 Conseil National de la Résistance occupation of, 205 (CNR), 57 Provisional Government (GPRF), disagreements within, 57 1944–46, 5, 95, 130, 141 Forces Françaises de l”intérieur role of philosophy and intellectuals – FFI, 43 in, 18 and ‘irregular ﬁghter’, 30 and sociological analysis, 6 in London (Groupe Jean Jaurès), 38 and the State, 55 relations with de Gaulle, 15, 50 Vichy Government of, 1940-44, 46, and SOE, 104 54, 104 US attitude towards, 202 wartime exiles, 2, 156, 200 French Socialist Party (SFIO) Free French. See French Resistance and British Labour Party, 92 Welles dismissal of, 40 in exile, 143 French Empire. See also Algeria, and PWP (incl. economic planning), Vietnam 57 and Algeria, 16, 127 and Suez Crisis, 184 and Brazzaville, 184 ‘Functionalism’, 154. See also importance during Second World Globalism; Mitrany War, 186 and Indochina, 126, 129, 199–201, 208 G intellectual opposition to, 3, 12, 19, Gaitskell, Hugh, 192 30, 32, 35, 61, 185, 224 as Chancellor of the Exchequer, 192 and nationalist challenges, 17 as Foreign Secretary, 192 ‘native troops’ [e.g. Spahis], 190 relations with Labour Party, 192 316 INDEX

Galbraith, John Kenneth, 136 functionalism and federalism, 154 Gary, Romain Gouvernement Provisoire de la Education Européene 1944, 31 République Française (GPRF). See and Europe, 31 France French Consul in Los Angeles, 185 ‘Greater Britain’. See British Empire writings of, 31 Grotewohl, Otto. See Blum, Léon GATT (General Agreement on Tariffs Groupe Jean Jaurès. See French and Trade), 149, 223 Restistance and ‘Imperial Preference system’, ‘Growth’ (as economic policy), 16, 192 158, 218 ‘Rounds’, 149, 223 problems of, 16 Gavin, James, 135, 254, 257 ‘Geopolitics’, 59 H German Neueordnung (‘New Order’) Hallstein, Walter, 170 appeal in Europe, 31 Harris, Sir Arthur (Bomber), 43 appeal in France, 32 Hauck, Henri. See French Resistance: Germany Groupe Jean Jaurès defeat of, 63 Hayek, Friedrich, 85, 86, 136, 155, division of, post 1945, 94, 102, 147 265. See also Keynes, Maynard; and EDC, 166, 167, 204 ‘Neo-liberalism’ and European integration, 257 Heidegger, Martin, 124, 271 French attitudes to post-1945, 143 Herter, Christian, 251 Morgenthau Plan, 94, 102, 140 Holocaust, 105, 263, 267 and ‘New Order’ (neueordnung), Vichy French involvement in, 105 45 Hopkins, Harry, 41, 147 rearmament of, 164, 204 and FDR, 41, 147 and recovery from war, 93, Hoppenot, Henri, 40, 58 140–143 Hull, Cordell, 40, 52, 80, 81, 98, 99, Soviet fears of, 32 107, 161, 223 US attitudes to, 93–94, 148–149 and Britain, 40 ‘Zones’ after 1945 (incl. ‘Bizonia’), and FDR, 81, 107 152 and PWP, 81 Gide, André, 105, 141 ‘Humanitarianism’, 88 Giraud, Henri (General), 51, 54, 257 and Human Rights, 88 and de Gaulle, 54, 257 ‘Humiliation’, 2, 15, 17, 20, 21, 27, ‘Globalisation’, 8 29, 31, 33, 51, 55, 63, 64, 78, antecedents of, 159 97, 110, 112, 124, 126, 212, consequences of, 185 217, 223, 225, 226, 244–246, ‘Globalism’, 11, 124. See also Mitrany, 258, 261, 269 David as concept, 27, 29, 65 contrasted with ‘world order’, 11 links to colonisation, 27, 217, deﬁned, 11 224–226 INDEX 317

Huntziger, General Charles, 46, 47 Kennan, George Frost, 14, 15, 134, 135, 147, 148, 259, 260 and Europe, 134, 147 I and US foreign policy, 148 Indochina. See French Empire; Kennedy, John F. Vietnam assassination of, 2, 247 Internally Displaced People (IDPs), and de Gaulle, 253 108, 141 early life of, 253 and UNRRA, 108 and France, 253, 255, 257–259 ‘International Society’, 16, 17, 31, and Macmillan, 245, 249 269 as President of USA, 21, 62, 135, contradictions of, 17 203, 249, 256, 257, 260 International Studies Association Kennedy, Joseph, 33, 36 (ISA), 8 Kenya, decolonisation of International Trusteeship, 191 Mau Mau rebellion, 192, 225 and ‘Commission to Study the Keynes, Maynard, 34, 62, 85, 86, 88, Organization of the Peace’, 93, 111, 136 190 and Hayek, 86 and PWP, 190 and negotiations with USA, 88 Ismay, Filed Marshall Lord, 137 Khrushchev, Nikita, 251, 257, 258 Italy, 7, 9, 35, 40, 49, 84, 110, 133, and Kennedy, 258 143, 150, 153, 156, 159, 167 Kissinger, Henry, 11, 267 and Abyssinia, 189 and balance of power, 11 Korean War, 202

J James, William, 62 L and Bergson, 62 Labour Party, British and pragmatist philosophy, 62 and British Empire, 158, 168 Japan, 9, 14, 35, 49, 53, 156, 194 in Government, 137 and China, 9, 14 post-war plans, 157 French views about, 185 relations with SFIO, 84, 91, 92, and Treaty of Versailles, 9 142 Johnson, Lyndon Baines, 2, 242 and USA, 168 and Vietnam War, 2 Langer, William L.. See Ofﬁce of Jünger, Ernst (in Paris, 1940-44), 124 Strategic Services (OSS), Vichy and Europe, 124 Government Jusserand, Ambassador Jules, 133 Lansing, Robert. See ‘Self- determination’ Laski, Harold, 142, 143 K Laval, Pierre Kellogg-Briand Pact, 1928, 102 collaboration, 47, 48 318 INDEX

condemned to death, 103 as Prime Minister, 245 Prime Minister, Vichy, 41, 84 Maisky, Ivan, 14, 15, 33 League of Nations (LON), 8, 9, 17, Malaya, British decolonisation of, 197 32, 38, 58, 79, 83, 97, 99, 107, Malraux, André, 252 143 Man, Henri de, 83, 86, 138, 157 and United Nations, 32, 97 Maritain, Jacques, 13, 33, 39, 62, 158 and Woodrow Wilson, 9, 107 Marjolin, Robert, 83, 85, 139 Leahy, Admiral William, 40, 52, 78, Marshall Plan (aka European Recovery 110 Program, ERG) as advisor to FDR, 41 Anglo-French disagreements over, 2 and Operation Torch, 52, 78 in China, 87 US Ambassador to Vichy, 40 Economic Cooperation Administra- Léger, Alexis (aka St-John Perse), 95 tion (ECA), 167, 191 Lehman, Herbert, 58, 107–109, 147 and European integration, 188 and FDR, 58, 107 and ‘Reconstruction’, 123, 132, and UNRRA, 58, 107 145, 147, 153, 157, 161 ‘Lend Lease’, 1941, 86 Marshall, George ‘Liberalism’ and ‘Marshall Plan’, 145 compared with French Left, 3 as Truman’s Secretary of State, 134 and constitutionalism, 279 Massigli, René ‘Embedded’, 82 Ambassador to London, 99 and ‘neo-liberalism’, 85, 146, 264 and French Resistance, 108 ‘Liberation’, 18, 28, 29, 217, Maurras, Charles, 17, 62 225. See also ‘Collaboration’, Mayer, René, 165, 203, 205, 206 ‘Humiliation’, Resistance visit to Truman with Bidault, 206 in context of de/colonisation, 216 McCloy, General John, 103, 109, 162 of France, 1944, 60, 101 McNamara, Robert, 249 Liddell-Hart, Basil, 260 Mers-el-Kébir, 1940, 36, 40, 47, 48, Lippmann, Walter, 85, 211 52, 267 London School of Economics and signiﬁcance for FDR, 36 Political Science (LSE), 8, 155, ‘Militarism’, 145, 271 169 Mitrany, David, 155, 157. See also Lothian, Lord (aka Philip Kerr), 34, ‘Functionalism’ 81, 150, 187 ‘Modernisation’ and United States, 34 and Vietnam, 250 Lukacs, Georg, 62 Mollet, Guy attitude to Britain and USA, 209 French Prime Minister, 42, 209 M and French Socialism, 209 Macdonald, James Ramsay, 84, 187 and Suez Crisis, 209 Macmillan, Harold Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact, 1939, 32 and Kennedy, 240, 245, 249 Monnet, Jean INDEX 319

and de Gaulle, 257 French problems in, 243 as founder of the ECSC, 261 and Suez Crisis, 210 in London, 37 US interference in, 209 and the ECSC, 162, 163, 261 Norway Montigny, Jean, 44, 45 war crimes tribunals in, 91 Morocco, 208, 209 Notter, Harley, 80 Murphy, Robert, 40 Muselier, Admiral Emile, 54, 55 ‘Myth’ and ‘Memory’ O and de Rougement, 48 Ofﬁce of Reports and Estimates and European integration, 128 (ORE) and ‘mystique’, 269 and CIA, 128, 168 myth of de Gaulle, 28, 127 Ofﬁce of Strategic Services (OSS), and the French Resistance, 265 5, 43, 49. See also CIA (Central Intelligence Agency) Operation Torch, 1942 N and Vichy Government, 52 Nasser, Gamal Abdel. See Suez Crisis, ‘Ordre nouveau’, France, 1930s 1956 and Aron and Dandieu, 32 NATO (North Atlantic Treaty and de Rougemont, 32 Alliance) Organisation for Economic Coopera- foundation of, 261 tion and Development (OECD), French attitudes towards, 132 161 ‘Neo-liberalism’ Organisation for European Economic attitudes towards, 85–86 Cooperation (OEEC, 1948), contrast with ‘planning’, 85 132, 161 origins of, 265 Organisation Internationale de la ‘New Deal’, 86, 87, 94, 106, 158 Francophonie. See French Empire as French post-war economic Orwell, George model, 158 views on colonialism, 217 internationalised, 87 ‘New Order’ (Nazi Neuordnung) appeal of in France and Europe, 31 P ‘New World Order’, 8, 77, 78, 87, 88 Palestine, British Mandate Anglo-American PWP for, 79 endofmandate,creationofIsrael, and Woodrow Wilson, 87 190 New Zealand, 185, 187, 262 Parson, Talcott, 250 Noel-Baker, Philip, 37, 38, 143, 151 Parti Communiste Français (PCF), and Free French, 38 56, 133, 135, 141, 208, 209, North Africa, 51, 52, 209, 213, 224 220, 250, 257. See also Algeria, and French intellectuals, 224 Morocco, Tunisia and relations with SFIO, 56 320 INDEX

Pasvolsky, Leo, 79–81, 85, 87, 93, 98, Q 111 Quisling, Vidkun, 104. See also as economist, 85 Norway and PWP, 81 Péguy, Charles, 7, 61 Pertinax (André Géraud), 43 R Race (and Imperialism), 186, 219 Pétain, Philippe and development, 219 anti-semitic legislation by, 51 ‘Reconstruction’ cult of (Maréchalisme de base), 51 and Marshall Plan (ERP), 106, 123, and de Gaulle, 19, 32, 40, 44, 84 145, 147, 153, 157, 161 collaboration with Nazi Germany, and PWP, 12, 81 51 and Yugoslavia, 144 and Vichy, 2, 40 and UNRRA, 106 Philip, André, 45, 56, 139 Reparations, 93, 110, 111, 140, 152 and de Gaulle, 56 post-1919, 112 and SFIO, 56 Resistance. See also ‘Collaboration’; ‘Humiliation’; ‘Liberation’ Pineau, Christian, 210 as concept, 28–29 Planning and decolonisation, 217 in Britain, 82, 84 in France. See French Resistance Commissariat général au Plan, 146 Reynaud, Paul, 37, 168 continuities with Vichy, 159 and Anglo-French ‘Union’, 168 in France, 82, 84, 158 and de Gaulle, 37, 168 pre- and post-war, 1, 12, 20, 29, Robbins, Lionel, 82, 155 55, 56, 79 ‘Role theory’ (Kal Holsti), 195 Pleven, René, 19, 38–40, 54, 125, and John Foster Dulles, 195 126, 130–132, 131, 135, 136, Roll, Eric Lord, 136 164, 261 distrust of ‘European experiments’, Pleven Plan, 1950, 125 136 Rome, Treaty of, 1957, 123, 137, Pompidou, Georges, 260 159, 163, 268 Post-war planning (PWP), 1, 20, 29, Roosevelt (Franklin Delano, aka FDR) 55–57, 79–82, 85, 87, 90–92, and Churchill, 34, 52, 88, 109, 222 94–98, 106, 132, 144, 157, 158, and de Gaulle, 19, 36, 41, 243, 247 190, 196 ‘Four Freedoms’, 90 and CFR, 55, 196 and PWP, 80, 81, 90 and Chatham House, 79 and Stalin, 109, 147 in State Department, 55, 80, 81 at Yalta, 136 Potsdam Conference, 1945, 59, 99, Rostow, Walt, 147, 254 109, 138, 142 and de Gaulle, 254 ‘Pragmatist’ philosophy, 264 and Europe, 254 INDEX 321

and Vietnam, 275 and Smuts, 92 Round Table, 8, 150, 185, 186, 221. Soviet Union (USSR) See also Buchan, John; Curtis, and ‘development’, 96 Lionel; Kerr and Suez Crisis, 210 and British Empire, 150 Leninism, 10 Ruhr, the (incl. ‘Rhineland’) lessons for West of, 222 Anglo-US fears about, 160–163 Western studies of, 222–223 post-1919, 152 Spaak, Paul-Henri, 168, 169 post-1945, 152 Spain, 100, 167 and Sarre, 160 Special Operations Executive (SOE), Rusk, Dean, 203, 249, 254, 255, 258 43, 104, 169 Russell, Bertrand, 62 ‘Special Relationship’ [aka Anglo- American Relations], 193 realities of, 193 S Spykman, Nicholas, 59, 221 Salan, General Raoul, 243, 245 Stalin, Josef, 2, 78, 109, 110, 138, Sarre Conﬂict, 160 140, 141, 146, 147, 153, Sartre, Jean-Paul, 13, 18, 30, 100, 203–205, 248 185, 216, 217, 224, 271 and de Gaulle, 109 and existentialism, 216 views on France, 204 relations with Camus, 18, 216, 217, at Yalta, 1945, 2, 109 224 State Department, 5, 38, 40, 41, 55, Sauvy, Alfred, 91, 216 58, 77–81, 85, 107, 131, 135, Schuman, Maurice, 205, 261 147, 153, 201, 254–256 ‘Schuman Plan’, 131 Advisory Committee on Post-War ‘Sciences Po’ (Ecole libre de sciences Foreign Policy (ACPWFP), 80 politiques), 95 disagreements within, 255 ‘Self-determination’ and PWP (Division of Special debates about, 220 Research), 80, 81 and nation-building, 220 St.-Exupéry, Antoine de, 30, 33, 95 and Woodrow Wilson, 9, 242 writings of, 30 SFIO (Section Française de l”inter- Stimson, Henry nationale Socialiste). See French and Britain, 103 Socialist Party (SFIO) and PWP, 98 Shotwell, James, 144 and the United Nations, 98 Smuts, Jan, 92, 93, 97, 107, 186, 187 and war crimes, 101 and British Empire, 186 St. Pierre et Miquelon Crisis, 36, 38, and ‘Mandates’ system, 107 40, 54 and PWP, 97 Strauss, Admiral Lewis, 166 Social security, 83, 86, 89, 158 Streit, Clarence (‘Union Now’), 156 Sorel, Georges, 7, 264, 265 Suez Crisis, 1956 South Africa, Union of, 93 and Anglo-American relations, 165 322 INDEX

compared to Munich Crisis, 211 U development of, 211 United Nations Eden and Mollet in, 211 and Dumbarton Oaks Conference, effect within Britain, 211 1943, 59, 99, 110 and France, 212, 213 founding of, 59 and Nasser, 211 French membership of, 99 nationalisation of Suez Canal, 211 and PWP, 87, 106, 196 and United Nations, 212 and Suez Crisis, 212 US attitude to (Dulles, Eisenhower), United Nations Relief and Rehabilita- 212 tion Administration (UNRRA) Switzerland disagreements over, 108–109 Marcel Pilet-Golaz, 48 inauguration of, 107 and relations with Vichy, 48 termination of, 108 and the Ligue du Gothard, 48 United States. See also Britain (aka United Kingdom), France and Cold War, 16, 101, 126, 134, 147, 148, 197, 222 T and Empires, 125 Thatcher, Margaret, 4, 265, 266 and Europe, 125 ‘Think-tanks’ ‘Progressive’ era in, 82 and Anglo-US relations, 5 public opinion in, 78 and France, 7 rearmament of, 153 ‘Third World’, 21, 216 origins of term, 216 Tito, Josef Broz, 153 V Tixier, André, 56 Vallat, Xavier. See Vichy: Commissariat Toynbee, Arnold aux affaires juives and Chatham House, 34 Vandenberg Resolution, 1948, 198 Trade. See also GATT (General Versailles, Treaty of Agreement on Tariffs and Trade) and PWP, 93 and Aid, 223 and reparations, 93 French distrust of USA over, 88, revision of, 83 192 and Supreme War Council, 139 Imperial Preference system, 192 Vichy Government. See also France Truman (Harry S.) collaboration with Nazi regime, 41 and European integration, 131 Commissariat aux affaires juives, and France, 111, 135, 147, 167, 51, 105 200, 202, 203, 208, 247 and epuration, 104 and Labour Party, 192 Jewish question in, 51 Tunisia, 208, 209 and La Milice, 30, 104 Turkey (and Germany), 49, 145, 199 and Operation Torch, 1942, 52, 78 Tyler, William, 135 and prisoners of war, 44, 46, 51 INDEX 323

Service de Travail Obligatoire, 53 and Roosevelt, 19, 39–41, 58, Wiesbaden Commission d’Armistice, 78–81 46 views about France, 40 Viet Minh. See Indochina; Vietnam Wells, H.G., 78, 92, 113 Vietnam and Atlantic Charter, 92 French in, 199–201 andNewWorldOrder,78 Ho Chih Minh, 202, 249 Westphalian System, 10, 11 USA help for French in, 201 Weygand, Maxime General, 19, 40 US attitudes to, 202 Wight, Martin, 7, 23 Vietnam War (1964-75), 2, 4, 221 Wilson, Harold, 88 von Stülpnagel, General Carl-Heinrich, Wilson, Woodrow. See ‘Self- 46, 47 determination’ and Colonel Edward House, 82 inspiration for FDR, 87 W inspiration for nationalist move- War ments, 188 aims in, 12 and Versailles Treaty, 79 economic causes of, 86 Winant, John, 103. See also European War Crimes Tribunals Advisory Commission (EAC) in France (epuration), 104 Woolf, Leonard, 155, 178 ‘genocide’ and ‘crimes against World War One humanity’, 103 legacies of, 39–41, 78–82, 87–89, and the Holocaust, 105 138 International Criminal Court (ICC), planning during, 17, 78, 80, 82, 1999, 102 96, 101, 140, 160, 186 Lauterpacht, Herch and Lemkin, and Treaty of Versailles, 46, 58, 83, Rafael, 103 161 Nuremberg trials, 95 and Stimson, 101 Ward, Barbara, 86, 157 Y Warsaw Pact, 11 Yalta Conference, 1945, 41, 59, 99, Waugh, Evelyn, 189 109, 141 views about Ethiopia, 189 France as ‘small state’, 2, 109 Weil, Simone, 217 death in wartime Britain, 217 and decolonisation, 217–218 Z Welles, Sumner Zimmern, Alfred, 107 and PWP, 39, 57, 79–81, 92 Zweig, Stefan, 154, 177