"Yes to Ourselves"

Under the gilded ceiling of Paris' Palais du Luxembourg, where Napoleon came to ask fresh levies to send against the Austrians and the Prussians, where Clemenceau, vengeful "Tiger" of the Versailles Treaty, once brooded in the red velvet chairs, the French Senate this week declared an end to the French-German hostility that has been the central pivot of European history for 150 years.

Ironically, the West could thank the Communists for the promise of a new era. By their unfriendly acts the Communists had achieved what men of good will had been unable to achieve (and what the Communists themselves least wanted) the pledged unity of the West. Said Premier Edgar Faure: "French-German quarrels have no meaning when we face an even more dangerous antagonist."

It was the last chance to upset the Paris accords for German rearmament. But even as the Senate debate opened, there was a strong sense of realism, of decisions made, of the inevitable accepted. Six members of Faure's Cabinet had voted against the accords in the Assembly and six had abstained. Now the Premier rose to declare that his entire Cabinet was united in support. Foreign Minister Antoine Pinay. who had abstained in the Assembly, set the theme of realism. The choice, he said, was not between an armed and an unarmed Germany; it was between a free France and a France dominated by the Soviet Union. Said he: "We must reinforce the West. We must strengthen its cohesion. Before coexisting, we must first exist . . If this rearmament is not done with us, it will be done without--or perhaps against us." If France insisted on standing alone, "one day, fate will make a choice for us--between slavery without hope or liberation from our ruins."

No Way Seems Sure. Senator after Senator rose to explain at length either that dislike of German rearmament was leading him to vote against or that dislike of German rearmament would not prevent him from voting for. Only the 16 Communists and some of the 48 Gaullists among the 320 members were implacably hostile, but as the oratory droned on, there arose real danger that the hesitant and reluctant would insist on delaying amendments.

"Doubts and criticisms spring up within me," wailed Gaullist Michel Debre. "No way seems to be sure, no solution seems to be the ideal." An Independent Senator complained that France was being blackmailed by its allies. "From surrender to surrender, from self-denial to self-denial, are we ready to abandon everything in order to avoid isolation?" he demanded.

Lips tight with anger, Faure sprang to the rostrum. "There have been neither threats nor blackmail on the part of our allies," he snapped. "But is it abnormal, is it surprising that our continual hesitations, our twistings and turnings, have troubled our allies? Let's not forget the past. Who asked for the Atlantic pact in the first place? It wasn't America. It was Europe. We feared that there would be no more American troops in Europe, or that the American troops would arrive too late." Bluntly, Faure warned: "We cannot always change our minds after having signed. M. Mendes-France asked with insistence, looked with desperate eagerness, obtained with difficulty an accord less good, no doubt, than one would wish, but less bad than you think; now we must wind it up. If France again changes her mind, I'm not the one who's going to bring the word to our allies."

Faure was thus making ratification, in effect, a vote of confidence, giving to the Senate a power it does not formally possess--to depose a Premier. The stubby little Premier pressed on, words tumbling out in a brilliant display of impromptu rebuttal. Then he stepped down amidst a crash of applause. Superbly timed, his outburst checked the gathering emotional opposition. To those who complained that the French will was cowed by allies' threats, Pinay retorted: "The French will? Why should it only be revealed in the power to say no--no to our own proposal, no to our own policy; that is, to say in the end, no to ourselves? It will be a much more firm show of courage to say yes to our own initiative.

" All Bets Down. After four days and long nights of debate, Faure laid in his final plea. His allies had helped all that they could. To ease the way, German President Theodor Heuss had signed the Paris accords, completing German action except for the formality of depositing the instrument of ratification. Secretary of State Dulles had sent a carefully worded message pledging the U.S. to "closest cooperation" with the new Western European Union. Faure played his trump.

"The government has already made contact with its allies with a view to preparing the resumption of negotiations with the Soviet government," he declared. "It will try to get a conference in the shortest possible time on all the outstanding questions capable of solution. [But] the only choice we can make is to ratify first and negotiate later ... Let us tear out from our hearts this fear and doubt!" Faure stepped down, muttered: "Les jeux sont faits" the croupier's classic cry that all bets are down.

After Saturday midnight, voting began. Five amendments, designed variously to defer ratification until after an attempt at a disarmament pact with Russia, until the allies agreed on the arms pool, until France received "new guarantees" from its allies, were defeated by comfortable margins. Finally the Senate voted the accords themselves. The vote on the key WEU pact was 184-110, the others even more decisive.

All that remained were the votes of the U.S. Senate and of some small powers that had been waiting for France, plus the formalities of parchment-signing. Four and a half years after the need for German rearmament was reluctantly recognized by the West, France had made the fateful decision. In French-German comradeship, begun grudgingly in the face of present danger, lay some hope for a lasting and united community of nations.

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