A Question of Confidence

By majority vote, members of the French Assembly last week declared France an international incompetent. They scorned the most elaborate reassurances ever offered any nation. They rejected controls on their old enemy painstakingly contrived at their own insistence by their best friends. Driven largely by personal malice and domestic intrigues, they gravely damaged any hope of a united Europe, flung back the proffered hand of friendship from their ancient foe, and jeopardized their own safety. Their decision--if it stood--left France in the position of a ward, for other nations to protect and to defend. And even if the Assembly reversed itself this week in response to the world's shocked reaction, the memory of its first performance would remain.

Frenchmen call the National Assembly building "The House Without Windows." Inside its sooty, neo-Grecian walls last week, it was as if the outside events of the past three months had never happened.

Speaker after speaker arose to voice the old fears and complaints that they had voiced four, three, two years ago--oblivious to all the new concessions (British troops, Saar settlement) made just for them. In the end, the French Assembly proved again that it is an assemblage of negatives. Men who, by their dedication to EDC, had shown themselves ready to accept German rearmament, now joined the 100 Communists in voting it down.

The Old Cries. As the debate began, Georges Bidault and his Catholic M.R.P., professed friends of a united Europe, bided their time. "Don't get yourself worked up," the M.R.P.'s Francois de Menthon mocked Premier Mendes-France. "We've already decided to deal with you later." They have never forgiven him his share in the defeat of their pet EDC.

Even committees which reported favor ably on the Paris accords loaded their approvals with reservations, misgivings and conditions. No voice was lifted in praise or thankfulness that France, by the initiative of Britain's Anthony Eden, the prodding of the U.S.'s John Foster Dulles, and the shrewdness of Mendes-France, had been saved from isolation.

"Under the pretext of Atlantic solidarity, they are asking France to take precautions against the Soviet danger before taking precautions against the German danger," cried rightist General Adolphe Aumeran. "Without our agreement Amer ica will not dare rearm Germany." Insisted Gaullist Jacques Soustelle: "Every effort to get a modus vivendi with the East must be sought first. Logic dictates it . . . an alliance with Russia is a geopolitical must for France." Complained old Paul Reynaud, the man who was Premier in 1940 when France fell: "The Paris accords give the political hegemony to England and the military hegemony to Germany." Doddering old Edouard Herriot summarized for the fearful. "I refuse to accord [the Germans] either my sympathy or friendship," Herriot complained in his best emotional quaver. "The U.S. de serves that we make sacrifices for it. But France cannot sacrifice her conscience . . .

She must be faithful to the memory of Frenchmen who died under German blows." The Chamber boomed applause.

The M.R.P.,divided between those who, like Bidault, wanted to vote against Men des whatever the cost to France, and those who, like onetime Foreign Minister Robert Schuman, would vote for Western unity, announced that it would abstain.

Former Premier Antoine Pinay declared that he, too, would abstain. So did Reynaud. Suddenly, the move to take refuge on the sidelines of abstention gained momentum. "Elections are only 18 months off," explained one observer. "If, by then, rearming Germany still worries Frenchmen, the abstainers can say, 'Don't blame us; we didn't vote for it.' If the Germans behave, the abstainers can contend, 'After all, we didn't stand in the way of the treaties.' " Socialists, pledged to vote for rearmament, began to panic.

Patriotic Plea. Virtually alone, Mendes fought back. "Our allies are already considering rearming Germany without us, and in September they were on the point of doing it without limitations or controls," he argued. "If we refuse it, they will do it just the same." Deputies hooted in disbelief. Had they not defied the last threat of "agonizing reappraisal" and gotten away with it? Mendes recited the new guarantees he had extracted from the U.S. and Britain, and their guarantee of the Saar deal. He pleaded against abstention--though he himself had abstained from voting on NATO and EDC. "It would be better to say no than to refrain from voting," he pleaded. "If your vote can be interpreted as a sign of weakness or hesitation . . . I say to you, with deep emotion, that the government will not have enough power to make its views respected." Concluding, Mendes bid for the votes of those who might be inclined to vote against him personally: "I am a patriot.

I address myself to fellow patriots . . . It is only by accident that it is I who make this appeal to you. Forget the personality of the Premier and think only of the country." The M.R.P. sat silent, unmoved.

The Long Night. At midnight Mendes asked a vote on the treaty provisions which authorized German rearmament and admission to the Western European Union. The M.R.P. demanded a recess. For three hours Mendes confidently sat on the front bench scanning newspapers while the M.R.P. conferred. de Menthon argued for an outright vote against, instead of abstention. Bidault agreed.

Emerging from the meeting, Bidault encountered Reynaud. "Is the night going to be long?" asked Reynaud. "It may be long, but in any case it is ours," said Bidault with a sly-fox grin.

In the chamber, De Menthon rose and told Mendes: "You need not be surprised that we are going to vote against you.

We have always opposed an independent national army for Germany." Mendes' eyes were veiled, but he retorted steadily: "Weigh carefully where your duty lies.

These votes will be examined abroad with severity." The M.R.P.'s strategy was clear. Let the Paris accords pass, so that Mendes would get the blame for German rearmament. Make the margin ungraciously thin, so that Mendes would get no glory from it. But Mendes' failure to pose a vote of confidence gave many a Deputy an opportunity to register his dislike of Mendes and the Germans.

Repairing the Damage. At 5:32 a.m.

on the day before Christmas, the vote on German rearmament was announced: "Rejected by 259 for, 280 against." Mendes, sitting with his hands clutching one knee, barely moved. The Communists clapped. The rest of the Assembly sat in stunned silence. From the back benches came an audible whisper: "Perhaps that was going too far." Coldly and scornfully, Mendes told the Assembly: "You have just emitted a vote which is bad for the country." To repair what damage he could, he demanded immediate votes on other Paris agreements.

Momentarily chastened, the Assembly rapidly voted 372 to 154 to restore German sovereignty, 368 to 145 to approve the Saar agreement. Then Mendes announced he would resubmit the rejected treaty on German rearmament as a vote of confidence. Glumly, the Assembly adjourned for the weekend.

The Issue Is How. Abroad, the reaction was one of incredulity and mounting disgust. Britain's Anthony Eden issued the bluntest statement in years. "It is clear that what is at stake is the unity of the Western allies. The issue is not whether the German Federal Republic will rearm, but how." In Washington John Foster Dulles suggested that the vote raised a serious question as to France's ability to take the kind of decision required of a responsible ally.

This week the Deputies returned to Paris for their second and last chance.

On their decision rode the fate of Mendes and the prestige of France.

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