Friday, Jan. 20, 1961

One Man Against Order

After four weeks of bitter strikes, one man kept Belgium in turmoil almost singlehanded. Andre Renard, 49, deputy secretary-general of the General Workers Federation, held out against the government, against his own Socialist Party, even in apparent defiance of the parliamentary process itself.

A born union organizer, bony, greying Renard is a popular hero in the mold of the late Nye Bevan, and just as militant a Socialist. He grew up in the bitter, capitalist-hating 1930s, fought bravely against the Nazis in the World War II under ground. Now he clearly had much more in mind than simply defeating Premier Gaston Eyskens' economic austerity program. He sought the downfall of the regime. He demanded a new socialized pattern for Belgium, with nationalization of industry and central economic planning. He wanted a division of his country into two federated regions--the Walloon south and the Flemish north. Unable for years to achieve this by normal political means, he had seized on the strike to try to impose his program from the streets.

In Mons, a crowd of 15,000 singing first the anticapitalist Internationale, then the anticlerical Down with the Cassocks, filled the city's main square to hear Renard lash out at Eyskens' Loi Unique and shout his creed. With relish Renard pointed out that the strike was costing the capitalist owners of industry a billion francs ($20 million) a day. "Every time you cross off a day on the calendar," he cried, "think, another billion less for them!" Would Renard call off the strike? "A single word!" he shouted. "Persist!"

At Renard's bidding, the strikers persisted. Although the Flemish north now was quiet and mostly back at work, the rest of Belgium remained racked with strife. The Cabinet met and decided to order 2,000 more troops back from their NATO garrisons in Germany to help guard factories and mines that Renard's extremists had threatened with sabotage. In many towns gendarmes escorted government-conscripted garbage men on their rounds; as they dumped the cans into trucks, village after village echoed to auto horns that beeped rhythmically "Eyskens au po-teau"--"Eyskens to the gallows." Here and there, there were scuffles with the police, smashed windows, streets seeded with tacks.

The Socialists in Parliament, for whose stodgy, bourgeois caution Renard has undisguised contempt, were as aghast as anyone at Renard's disregard for orderly processes. In the debate on Eyskens' controversial bill, Socialist members made it clear they were prepared to compromise if a face-saving device could be found. "We must discuss things together," admitted Socialist ex-Premier Achille van Acker. In return, Eyskens agreed to consider a Socialist amendment. Then, exhausted, the Premier fainted in the Chamber, was led away to a sickbed before the vote on the measure brought victory to the government by 115 to 90.

Victory would not necessarily be lasting. Whatever his fellow - Socialists in Parliament might do. Andre Renard was prepared to fight on. In his Walloon stronghold of Namur. 400 Socialist political leaders passed a resolution demanding that the Walloons should be free to break away and "choose their own means of social and economic expansion." At week's end Renard still commanded his loyal crowds, still recklessly kept his country balancing on the edge of anarchy.

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