On the surface at least, the Gaullist régime in France now looks substantially stronger than before the May crisis. The June elections gave General de Gaulle and his then Prime Minister, Georges Pompidou, a massive parliamentary majority that for the next five years seemingly insures M. Pompidou's successor, former Foreign Minister Maurice Couve de Murville, against every normal political hazard-except, perhaps, the eventual loss of his master's confidence. What is probably even more important, the deep national consensus indicated by the scale and circumstances of the Gaullist electoral victory has clearly restored the General's momentarily shaken faith in his own thaumaturgic powers. If a new confrontation between the state and the revolutionary students and workers develops during the next few months, as it may, General de Gaulle can no doubt count this time on a prompt reawakening of the "national instinct" that responded so sluggishly to his leadership last spring. The loyalty of the police, which wavered for a few dangerous days in May after Pompidou's apparent surrender to the students, has been consolidated by appropriate administrative measures during the summer months; the loyalty of the army, which had to be won over at the crucial moment by the amnesty promised General Raoul Salan and other former rebels or conspirators against de Gaulle's Algerian policies, is thought to be fully dependable today. The split between the orthodox Communists and the revolutionaries of the New Left, which probably helped more than either General de Gaulle's charisma or General Massu's armored force-in-being to save the bourgeois republic in its hour of peril, seems to have become even more bitter and unbridgeable since the elections. There is no direct and overt threat to the General's authority from the Right. The personal rivalries and ideological tensions that unquestionably exist within the majority do not seem incoercible. The economic and financial problems that confront the Government are serious, but not, as far as one can judge, unmanageable.
On the surface at least, the Gaullist régime in France now looks substantially stronger than before the May crisis. The June elections gave General de Gaulle and his then Prime Minister, Georges Pompidou, a massive parliamentary majority that for the next five years seemingly insures M. Pompidou's successor, former Foreign Minister Maurice Couve de Murville, against every normal political hazard-except, perhaps, the eventual loss of his master's confidence. What is probably even more important, the deep national consensus indicated by the scale and circumstances of the Gaullist electoral victory has clearly restored the General's momentarily shaken faith in his own thaumaturgic powers. If a new confrontation between the state and the revolutionary students and workers develops during the next few months, as it may, General de Gaulle can no doubt count this time on a prompt reawakening of the "national instinct" that responded so sluggishly to his leadership last spring. The loyalty of the police, which wavered for a few dangerous days in May after Pompidou's apparent surrender to the students, has been consolidated by appropriate administrative measures during the summer months; the loyalty of the army, which had to be won over at the crucial moment by the amnesty promised General Raoul Salan and other former rebels or conspirators against de Gaulle's Algerian policies, is thought to be fully dependable today. The split between the orthodox Communists and the revolutionaries of the New Left, which probably helped more than either General de Gaulle's charisma or General Massu's armored force-in-being to save the bourgeois republic in its hour of peril, seems to have become even more bitter and unbridgeable since the elections. There is no direct and overt threat to the General's authority from the Right. The personal rivalries and ideological tensions that unquestionably exist within the majority do not seem incoercible. The economic and financial problems that confront the Government are serious, but not, as far as one can judge, unmanageable.
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What is the reaction of the French people to the politique de grandeur-the policy which, in the name of France, General de Gaulle is projecting on a world scale? Before this question can be answered we must first ask: How is French policy shaped and decided? Next, how is it made known to parliament and public opinion? Third, do the broad masses of the people have access to adequate and objective information on which to base their judgment of this policy? Only then can we turn to the question: What is their judgment?
In Germany as in France, 1969 will be remembered as the year of the break in continuity. The principal break is in each case obvious: the departure of General de Gaulle after eleven years in power and the relegation of the Christian Democrats to the opposition after twenty years in power. But the nature and import of these breaks call for interpretation.
France intends both to preserve her national identity and to help bring about the peace that she cherishes. She refuses to take refuge in the comfort of a neutrality that is nothing more than an abdication of responsibility in face of the great disputes of our time. At the same time she objects to every form of hegemony, whether detrimental or advantageous to herself; for she does not challenge anyone else's right to the rights she claims for herself. For in her position, with her calling and with her resources, how could she take part in the human adventure and in the construction of peace on earth if she renounced the exercise of political imagination, if she accepted the protection of an outsider and left to others the task of shaping her own history and behavior in the world?
