It was necessary to avoid a double pitfall: that of making it yet another historical collection of quotations, and that of falling into a projective reclamation of current affairs. This is only fitting when the figure of General de Gaulle is at stake, whose history spread across three republics seems indefinitely prolonged by the incessant invocation — even appropriation — of his thoughts.
Hence the prudent yet lively formula chosen by Jean-Pierre Rioux of a kaleidoscope, an assemblage of texts “published on the spot” at the time, comprising eight portraits of a man who detested being called “of the 18th of June,” as he found the association of his life with this single date significantly reductive. Already an indication of his character. Once the 964 pages are closed, ample credit is given to the originator of this work published by Omnibus editions: the mystery of the man from Free France is not completely elucidated, and historians will still have much work to do to overcome — but doesn’t “greatness need mystery”? — the shadowy areas of the character. Only a slight disagreement is held regarding the title of the introduction: “a moral of history” as the idea of confinement conveyed by this concept does not seem consistent, despite his religious beliefs, with the worldview and future-focused vision contained in General’s work.
From the early military engagements of Lieutenant de Gaulle in 1914, told in the grand siècle style of an intimate biography by Gaston Bonheur, to the dark hours of 1970 described with boundless emotion by Jean Mauriac, young generation readers must ultimately sweep away this too prevalent perception of the man buckled into his military tunic, a radical slayer of the “chienlit” in May ’68. With supporting testimonies and analyses, they are invited to share the reflections and actions of a man whose communication was overly personalized to the point of giving him the appearance of a dictator, who was wrong to be right too soon: first and foremost, his vain efforts to persuade a reluctant military staff, reason for the military defeat of June 1940, of the necessity to make troops mobile and to support them with offensive use of tanks, all in a book that was more read and appreciated by the enemy across the Rhine than by the strategists of rue St Dominique. “The choice that governs careers is more readily placed on what pleases than on what deserves,” he would later denounce in a reflection that is not – alas – devoid of a certain timeliness. His unwavering conviction, then, that strategic retreat was better than the cowardly abandonment performed by the Vichy government, the inevitability, according to him, of the painful “decolonization” in 1958, and his ongoing efforts against all odds to endow France with nuclear power as of April 1960 provide some points of reference to temper the “bad aspects of good Gaullism,” the temptations of the Grande Nation so often decried by our neighbors and allies. Add to this his view of the “Soviet Russia,” embracing the idea, more than evident today, of an eternal Russia in its autocracy and the prescience of the upcoming gigantism of China. A moreover lucidity about Paris political life, a city which “governs the whole existence of the nation.” “Of seven French people,” explains de Gaulle, “one lives there and the other six depend on what is thought and done there.” A truth to ponder in lieu of being able to remedy it.
Far from being apologetic, the book allows both the novice and the specialist to maintain their critical spirit while also relishing the vitriolic passages by Jean-François Revel on “the General’s style,” a psychologically analyzant content analysis of his writings and speeches, from the “joyous yes” of the referendum to the manifest disdain for “electoral circumstances” when the opposition wins at the local elections! A feeling of déjà vu. In conclusion, this magnificent excuse from the author for having written “sometimes general, sometimes General, merely following de Gaulle who in his Memoirs writes this word sometimes with a capital letter (for example in General de Gaulle), sometimes with a lowercase (for example in general Catroux)!” One will also reread with great interest the very enlightening reflections of Jean Daniel on “de Gaulle and Algeria,” a mix of field reporting and fine political analyses that trace, from May 13th, 1958 to the Evian Agreements of April 1962, these dark years of the metropolis in its relations as much with its ultimate colony as with itself. Particularly noteworthy is the prescient certainty of the great “journalist” from the Express of an “Algerian revolution marked by Arab-Islamism” while recalling this statement made by the Tunisian President Bourguiba: “it may be that for more than a century, the French have missed all opportunities for a good policy in Algeria but the opportunities lost by the Algerian fighters in a few years are no better.” And Jean Daniel concludes in a shock formula: “in Algeria, France was not Nazism, that’s it.” Historians and politicians will gladly debate this.
It is probably the text by Régis Debray “See you tomorrow de Gaulle” that best reflects the ambivalence of contemporaries towards the General. Now retired like a wise man living on the Aventine, the former advisor to François Mitterrand seems literally torn, in form and substance, between evident seduction and complete repulsion for the founder of the Fifth Republic. Ultimately, the same logic. There isn’t a sentence where the essayist, faithful to his absolute authenticity, does not reflect this ambiguity: the slightest pleasant favor granted to the General is immediately followed by a formidable ferocity, tossing the exhausted reader into a real storm of conflicting opinions.
Finally, from this fascinating book that should necessarily figure in any library worthy of the name, among all, this phrase — let’s say of hope — will be retained for those who intend to serve France one day or… who already serve it: to Paul Delouvrier whom he wishes to appoint in 1958 as General Delegate of the Government in Algeria and who complains about “not being up to the task,” one hears the cavernous voice of the General responding “Well, you will grow!”
“De Gaulle, Portraits,” Texts selected and presented by Jean-Pierre Rioux, Omnibus Editions, 2008, 964 p., 27 euros
