Pompidou: A New Gallic Image

WHEN President Georges Pompidou arrives in Washington this week to begin a nine-day stay in the U.S. --his first state visit--Americans will get their first good look at a leader who is a far cry from the regal and aloof figure of Charles de Gaulle. What they will see, in fact, is a man who has substituted pragmatism for grandeur, who wants to govern France rather than rule it, who emphasizes the continuity of the government rather than the man. Like his host, Richard Nixon, Pompidou can already claim two important domestic accomplishments: he has lowered the national voice and, despite profound social stress at home, he has sternly demanded--and won--at least some time to bring about orderly change.

Pompidou's visit, which will also take him to Cape Kennedy, San Francisco, Chicago and New York, is intended primarily as a gesture of good will. The French President is fully aware that Americans have developed very mixed feelings about his nation in recent years, largely because of the haughty and often hostile behavior of Charles de Gaulle. Pompidou is anxious to reassure the U.S. that France is an ally and friend first and last--if not always in between. The cosmetic aspect of the trip is planned down to the scheduling of a sightseeing tour of San Francisco and the unveiling of an elaborate wardrobe from half a dozen Paris couturiers by Pompidou's attractive wife Claude. Within the past few weeks, however, the whole public relations campaign has been considerably marred by what, from the U.S. viewpoint, is Pompidou's most serious mistake to date: his decision to sell 108 Mirage jets to Libya.

The U.S. is convinced that the infusion of new air power on the Arab side of the Middle East conflict threatens to intensify the level of fighting. Thus France's Mideast policy will undoubtedly be a major topic of discussion during Pompidou's White House visits with President Nixon, and it is likely to provoke unpleasant incidents during his nationwide tour. The U.S. Congress will provide one of its coldest receptions in history to a chief-of-state guest speaker. Many Representatives plan either to boycott Pompidou's address, walk out while it is in progress, or present him with a declaration of protest. New York Mayor John Lindsay, who delighted the city's heavy Jewish population last fall by throwing a royal welcome for Israeli Prime Minister Golda Meir, does not plan an official welcome for Pompidou, and will be conveniently out of town when he arrives --an extraordinary display of politics in place of politesse for the mayor of a supposedly cosmopolitan city. The French President will probably be greeted in New York by hostile crowds who support Israel.

To these expressions of displeasure, Pompidou is likely to have the same set of answers. First of all, as he has said previously, France is irrevocably committed to Israel's rights of existence and security, and has done nothing that it believes will imperil either. He will no doubt point out that Libya could probably have purchased its jets in Moscow without having to agree to one important condition stipulated by Paris: that the planes cannot be used in any offensive action against Israel. Furthermore, Pompidou is convinced that no amount of arms rationing will successfully keep the lid on the Mideast war. In an interview with TIME Paris Bureau Chief William Rademaekers before his departure for the U.S., Pompidou declared: "I do not think that the role of countries that can effectively intervene is to try and apply the brakes, to limit the number or the capacity or the targets of the bombs dropped everv day. I think that the conflict will either be stopped or it will get worse."

Stern Loyalist Review. Pompidou has been remarkably candid about his prime motivation for arranging the jet deal with Libya: he is determined to increase the French presence throughout the Western Mediterranean, which he regards as a vital French defense area and sphere of influence. Paris diplomacy is concentrating "on those parts of the world which are geographically close to her, such as Europe, Africa--whether it be North Africa or Black Africa," he told Rademaekers. "It is in these regions that I am trying to accentuate France's presence and give it greater reality." Under Pompidou's direction, France in recent months has agreed to sell Mirage jets to the Franco government in Spain, moved to improve relations with its former North African colonies of Algeria and Morocco, and is rumored to be negotiating an arms deal with Greece. Thus the coup that placed a young, oil-rich regime in power in Libya last September provided a perfect opportunity for Pompidou to expand the influence of France in the Mediterranean.

By seizing the initiative with Libya, Pompidou stirred controversy not only abroad but also within his own government. He ignored the recommendation of his Foreign Minister, Maurice Schumann, who advised selling the Libyans a much smaller number of Mirages, and accepted instead the advice of Defense Minister Michel Debre, who wanted to fulfill their request for all 108 jets. Since Debre is generally regarded as the Cabinet member most loyal to the departed Charles de Gaulle and to his policies, Pompidou's decision grated on those ministers who are anxious for France to abandon the route charted by De Gaulle. But the French President feels even stronger pressure from another quarter. He faces stern "loyalist" review of almost every decision, chiefly from some 25 Deputies who make known their views both in and outside the Gaullist party. Pompidou is hardly their prisoner, but he neatly sums up his predicament by saying:

"Great inheritances are more weighty than small ones, I admit."

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