22 Million Frenchmen

A gaggle of politicians, statisticians, poll-counters and newsmen collected beneath the glittering chandeliers of the Interior Ministry and waited for the returns from the biggest election turnout in

France's history--21,794,974 voters. The drone of a functionary's voice brought silence. Figures flashed on a screen. From loudspeakers blared the names of successful candidates for the National Assembly. Soon an unfamiliar sound began to take on a rhythm of familiarity. "Department of Finistere," said a voice, "Monsieur Demarquet, Ood-ka. Department of Seine-et-Oise, Monsieur Couturaud, Ood-ka."

"Ood-ka" was a new French word last week. Ood-ka meant U.D.C.A., the Union de Defense des Commercants et des Artisans. And U.D.C.A. meant Pierre Poujade, the rabble-rousing bookseller, and his ragtag crusade against taxes, politicians and parliamentary government. Though the Poujadists had entered more candidates (about 800) than any other party, had disrupted countless meetings with storms of vituperation and vegetables, and generally raised welts on the public weal, the experts had not taken young Pierre Poujade and his bray-voiced "antis" very seriously. But Poujade's bully-boy movement of shopkeepers, farmers, artisans and small businessmen won 52 seats.

Dissipating the Power. It was the most dramatically dismaying result of the whole dismaying election. For the third time since the war, Frenchmen had gone to the polls--a healthy 82% of the eligible turned out--and, in an Assembly of 626 seats (30 of them to be decided later in Algeria), had dissipated the power to govern among four main blocs, roughly as follows: P: Communists: 150. P: Left-of-center coalition (Pierre Mendes-France and Socialists): 160. P: Right-of-center coalition (Premier Edgar Faure, Roman Catholic M.R.P., Independents): 200. P: Poujadists: 52.

Frenchmen examined their handiwork with a national headshake of disbelief. The support accorded the Communists and Poujadists put a third of Parliament (36% of the popular vote) into the hands of men publicly opposed to parliamentary democracy. The remainder, a workable majority if combined, was decisively split between forces of relatively similar philosophies but bitterly conflicting ambitions and allegiances.

Reality Revealed. Ironically, the election did not indicate a swing of opinion; it only revealed the reality of the French political complexion--a reality that had been successfully concealed for nearly five years by the elaborate electoral system of "alliances" that the French had devised in 1951 to defeat the extremes of Gaullism and Communism. This time the cen ter was so divided that alliances became impossible.

The results were startling. With one exception, every major party that actually increased its share of the popular vote last week lost seats; and the one major party that dropped in percentage of popular votes gained seats. Example: ex-Premier Pinay's right-wing Independents and Peasants gained 2%, but lost 42 seats. The Communists lost nearly 1%, but won 53 new seats, representing almost exactly the seats they lost in 1951 when the center alliances scooped up all Assembly seats in any Department where they achieved a bare majority.

A Long Fall. Thus, the center politicians who brought on the election were hardest hit by the results. Premier Edgar Faure wrenched little more than a hand ful of Radical Deputies away from his ex-friend and chief antagonist. Pierre Mendes-France. The Catholic M.R.P., the party of Georges Bidault and Robert Schuman, had 15 seats trimmed from its previous 87. Counting Gaullists who lost and others who joined new alignments, the right-of-center bloc fell 100 seats or more below the strength it had been able to muster in the old Assembly.

Faure's right-wing friends had hoped to derail France's man-in-a-hurry, Mendes-France, by bringing on the election months before he was ready. They did slow Mendes down--though he pumped his personal vote from 37,000 to 59,000 and built a base of roughly 70 loyal Radical Deputies in the Assembly. The factional fighting between former friends reflected credit on no one. Mendes' fierce attacks on the leaders of the dissolved Assembly, like their attacks on him, helped further to destroy the dignity of the parliamentary system and France's respect for it. If any of the politicians of the middle could feel satisfaction, it was the Socialists of Guy Mollet. Though they actually lost seats, the Socialists added about 450,000 to their

1952 vote, and emerged the stronger partner in the alliance with Mendes.

It was the Poujadists who provided the election's real surprise. A motley, programless band of malcontents, they had cried angry imprecations against tax collectors, hurled vegetables and insults at opponents, demanded dissolution of the Republic, baited Jews in general and Jewish politicians in particular, especially Mendes-France. They were sworn to perform in the Assembly not according to the will of their electors, but on the orders of their organizer and prophet, Pierre Poujade (see box), who did not himself seek office but required loyalty pledges from those who did.

What if Poujadist Deputies failed to follow orders? he was asked. "Oh well," Poujade said, chortling to reporters between bites of a tangerine, "there are plenty of lampposts left in the Place de la Republique." One moment he was sweet reason. "If they cooperate with us, we'll cooperate with them," he said of the center forces. Next, blustering: "We will not hesitate to use the most Draconian meth ods to achieve what we want--strikes, tax withholding and so on."

Temporary Deal. The simple mathematical truth was that French democracy was now hemmed in more tightly than ever between forces committed to seek its extinction. Even united ("I don't say we will not work with the Communists," said Poujade), the antidemocrats were not strong enough to reach for power. But the divided democrats could not grasp it, either.

The indictment of the French voter was not that he was politically indifferent: he was if anything too insistent on disagreeing with his neighbors. And in this he was helped by that old political nostrum, proportional representation, which encourages as many parties as there are disagreements. Proportional representation, and the resulting multiplicity of parties, registered accurately Frenchmen's differences and their deep distrust of one another. But it failed in the primary object of the democratic process--discovering areas of agreement.

Sullen Suitors. Out of the wreckage, the rightist forces of Faure and Pinay, from their position of slight numerical superiority, made the first gesture towards putting things back together again. Between the two center groups, said Faure, "there is no real opposition on the big problems." His proposition: "a temporary union" of left-and right-wing moderates. The right-wingers let it be known that Mendes was anathema to them, but hinted that they might accept a Socialist like Mollet or Christian Pineau for Premier.

But hard-bargaining Mendes-France and his Socialist ally Mollet turned down Faure's offer, insisted on a chance to form a government of their own. "We have decided not to let ourselves be divided," explained Mollet.

With two weeks to go before the Assembly convenes, the sullen suitors were maneuvering to secure the best possible terms for whatever marriage they could make. They may succeed in making a go of things for a while; somebody had better, for problems press--chief among them the growing anarchy in Algeria. If France's governing center cannot get together and stay together, there are two legal ways out of such a marriage. A future Premier can dissolve the Parliament and call for new elections, as Faure did--but not until the Assembly has sat for 18 months and overthrown two Premiers by an Assembly majority.

A quicker way is for the Deputies themselves at some point to decide that they are hopelessly divided, vote their immediate dissolution, and go back to the country for new elections. "But this," as the London Economist pointed out, "would require an improbable degree of self-abnegation"--and unless this divided Assembly could first agree on some useful set of electoral reforms, 22 million Frenchmen would in all likelihood only say again what they said last week.

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