1 Is it legitimate to speak of a French fascist movement before the war? This old debate has recently been rekindled by a collection of essays edited by Michel Dobry and by a translation of an older volume by Robert Soucy. In light of the points raised by these works, Michel Winock proposes
to take a fresh look at the entire question, focusing, for obvious reasons, on the Croix-de-Feu movement. 2 We thought that the issue of French fascism had long been settled. This is far from being the case. Two works have recently breathed fresh life into the controversy. One of these, Fascismes Français? 1933-1939, by Robert
Soucy, known in English by the title of French Fascism: The Second Wave, 1933-1939, is available in a new translation into French, with a preface by Antoine Prost. [2] The other, entitled Le mythe de l’allergie française au fascisme, is a collection of essays edited by the sociologist Michel Dobry.
[3] Coming in rapid succession, these publications take to task historians such as Philippe Machefer, René Rémond, Pierre Milza, Serge Berstein, Jacques Julliard, Philippe Burrin, and others – including the author of the present article – for the sin of minimizing or even denying what to the two authors is the very obvious existence of a fascist movement in
France. Grouping these historians together into a "school of consensus," Dobry sums up their common position as a " thesis of immunity" as their work tends to demonstrate that France in the 1930s, and France generally, was "immunized against Fascism." 3 Dobry proposes a hypothesis inspired by the sociology of Pierre Bourdieu, which suggests that the
"relentlessness" of these historians may be a result of their positions in the "field," in order words, of their career interests. Although Dobry resorts to omission to avoid divulging his views about what these motivations might be, he does not hesitate to expose them for the purpose of disqualifying the work of these scholars. Going a step further, he suggests that these authors may have ideological reasons to "cleanse most of the radical right of any suspicion of kinship with or similarity to
the 'authentic fascisms.'" This accusation, which the polemicist in Dobry would be hard put to demonstrate, overlooks the diversity found among the putative members of this supposed school as well as their academic pedigree (Philippe Burrin is a professor in Geneva, while Jacques Julliard is director of studies at Hautes Études, alongside Serge Berstein, Pierre Milza, of Sciences Po, etc.). As I find myself included in this group for the sin of having been critical of Ni droite ni
gauche by Zeev Sternhell, [4] I will take the risk of challenging our critic to demonstrate any allegiance on my part. For his part, Michel Dobry does not merely engage in debate, he resorts to insults. He accuses his opponents, for example, of "strange blunders," "essentialist vision," "classificatory obsession," among others. So often in France,
academic debate, which is so legitimate and necessary, turns to suspicion, and Dobry provides another example of this trend, the strategy consisting of questioning the scientific legitimacy of one's adversary through ideological insinuation. 4 This is to be regretted as these authors' arguments deserve consideration and discussion. The issue of French
fascism is not straightforward, and many interpretations have been in contention for a long time. Here are a few objections I would offer my detractors on my own behalf. 5 1. Michel Dobry uses the words "allergy" and "immunity" to lampoon his adversaries,
[5] who would see in France a land impenetrable by fascism. One of the first historians to consider the question, Raoul Girardet, wrote a pioneering article 50 years ago entitled "Note sur l’esprit d’un fascisme français 1934-1940",
[6] which proposed the notion of a "fascist impregnation." None of the historians discussed by Dobry questions the notion of contagion, which cuts across political streams, infects influential writers, wins over numerous newspapers, and encourages the birth of a number of organizations.
[7] How extensive was this "impregnation" and how France in the 1930s was able to escape fascism and remain a parliamentary republic until military defeat in 1940? These were questions to be assessed. This longevity of the regime is not a fantasy but a reality, hence the legitimacy of the question of resistance to the contagion, which has been asked by the
historians targeted, who have given various answers to the question. 6 2. Dobry objects to the word "fascist." Bad historians, he says, are caught up in a "classificatory obsession." By defining fascism on the basis of models drawn from Italian fascism and National Socialism, they diagnose the well-known "allergy," since the partisans of Mussolini and
Hitler were only marginal in France. The methodological error, he explains, consists first and foremost in this reductive approach, this desire to classify. Ultimately, this is a curious objection: what science rejects classification? From zoology to nosology, systematic classification (or taxonomy) is a necessary practice. Suggesting that classifying negates thinking is to summarily throw out Aristotle, Montesquieu, and Durkheim. If anything is worthy of the name of political science or
political sociology, it is only because authors as varied at Max Weber, Hannah Arendt, and Raymond Aron have taken the trouble to create categories, ideal types, and typologies. Clearly, classification does not exhaust analysis, and the field of history cannot limit itself to drawing distinctions. Yet it helps to avoid confusion and admixture. From the outset, classification in the social sciences has never been an exact science, and its methods vary from one practitioner to another. Yet it
underlies the effort to define and interpret for the purpose of making social and political phenomena understandable. I see nothing reprehensible in discerning the phenomenon of fascism, in making the effort to identify its novelty, and in defining the characteristics that distinguish it from other authoritarian movements in time and space. 7 3. To return
to the subject of French fascism, it is amusing to note that Michel Dobry himself advances a few good reasons for its unlikelihood, a sin that, when committed by others, he condemns as the "immunity thesis." The authoritarian right wing in France, he writes, admired the "solutions" of Mussolini and Hitler but could not appropriate "the ideological formulations of the Italian fascists," much less "those elaborated by the German National Socialists." In fact, Dobry, who provides us – despite
himself – with one explanation for the limits of fascist impregnation, would have done well to reflect more deeply on this point, namely the pacifism of the authoritarian right wing. This pacifism was not a mission but the outcome of a context. Evidently, Dobry does not want to take into account the bellicose nature of Italian fascism and Nazism. In my view, there is a significant difference between France and its two neighbors. In the 1930s, French nationalism had no agenda either of revenge or
conquest. France was not immune to fascism by nature but as a result of prevailing conditions. As a victorious country that had regained its "lost provinces," that was strengthened by the second-largest colonial empire in the world, but that had seen its foundations weakened since the Great War, France had little in common with either a defeated Germany or with an Italy frustrated by the terms of the peace treaties. 8 4. Yet Michel Dobry wishes to view the French authoritarian and radical movements as fascist. One way to achieve this is simply to refuse to define fascism or to extend the notion of fascism to include all of the reactionary movements of the inter-war period (including the Salazar, Horty, and Franco regimes). Clearly, this is the way of "panfascism." Alternatively, as
Gilbert Allardyce suggests, one can restrict the definition of the word "fascist" to refer only to a particular phenomenon, a particular historical singularity, which would be the sole original Italian form of fascism. This becomes "unifascism." Dobry raises the specter of the latter solution in order to reject it in favor of the former: "In such cases, the most notable quality of a definition may reside in its sobriety since it may be summed up in one phrase, and its most remarkable effect is
the extreme extension [my emphasis] in the population of the ideological movements, circles or currents it carves into historical reality." 9 Michel Dobry is right to point out (after everybody) "the considerable authoritarian and anti-democratic pressures that [in the 1930s], unevenly and in variable forms, beset most European countries." If, as
the author does, we sacrifice the particular qualities of national histories to the shared traits of reactionary movements, we may view these pressures as a single phenomenon. This protoplasmic fascism would make the question of fascism meaningless, since it is everywhere. As in the language and slogans of activists ("Say no to fascism!"), it becomes a simple, generic, and offensive way of labeling the adversary. Instead, if we wish to understand the contradictions between these various
“anti-democratic pressures”, their respective particularities, and their situational implications, it is legitimate to define fascism with some precision and to confront this definition with the case of France. 10 Most authors view the Croix-de-Feu, which in July 1936 became the French
Social Party, as the core of the question. Given their large numerical size, the CDF/PSF (in this paper, I adopt the abbreviations used by Robert Soucy) are really the best field test to measure the penetration of fascism in France. [8] 11 Robert Soucy, who does not treat the question from the same angle as Michel Dobry, simply advances a claim – even before developing his arguments – that La Rocque was "a dyed-in-the wool fascist" (1995, 165). In doing so, Soucy joins a long and old line. For 70 years now, the CDF/PSF, which was an anti-parliamentary party of the masses and a well-organized party of the
middle class, has been represented as fascist, as have its leaders, a view most French historians of the period have now refuted. Let us go over the debate point by point, following Soucy's argumentation. 12 "What was Hitlerian about La Rocque in 1931 was his insistence that his shock troops obey him
blindly"(Soucy 1995, 165). "Between 1933 and 1936, the CDF alluded on numerous occasions to the threat of a coup against parliamentary government" (Soucy 1995, 245). 13 After becoming president of the Croix-de-Feu in 1932, La Rocque organized a quasi-military order of "dispos" [disponibles – available men] marked by strict discipline, displays
resembling large military maneuvers, and military parades. In the eyes of parties of the left, this was the aspect that justified the labeling of the Croix-de-Feu as fascist. In the report of the investigative commission on the events of February 6, Laurent Bonnevay concludes that, while apparently abiding by the laws, Colonel La Rocque did "organize, in secret, and over the entire country, genuine, supervised mobilizations of significant concentrations of his troops, as if he were preparing for
a march on Rome." The same report found that, on the same day, La Rocque became involved only at the last minute, "taking care not to associate himself with rioters or to encourage violence." This attitude was shared by communist veterans belonging to ARAC (Association Républicaine des Anciens Combattants), who participated autonomously in the day of protest. Yet the radical Pierre Cot ventures a comparison: "Like the Italian fascists at the time of the march on Rome or like the
Sturmabteilung (SA) troops before 1932, the Croix-de-Feu was organized into military or paramilitary formations." [9] 14 Yet the comparison does not hold up after an examination of the facts. What did
Mussolini's squadrons or Hitler's assault sections have in common with La Roque's "dispos"? In 1920-1921, the Blackshirts managed an impressive conquest of Venezia Giulia, the Po River valley, and Tuscany through punitive and armed raids, using all manner of violence against the "red" rural communities. Beatings, pillaging, fire, torture, and assassinations were all used in this fascist offensive.
[10] For their part, the SA was an instrument of terror in Weimar Germany, a genuine political army repeatedly engaged in armed confrontation with socialist and even communist troops. In August 1932, five SA members were sentenced to death for the murder of a communist miner. Despite his tactical choice of legality, Hitler publicly declared his solidarity
with the killers: "Comrades: confronted with this monstrous and bloody verdict, I feel tied to you by a boundless loyalty. From this moment, your liberation is for us a question of honor." During the course of 1932, armed confrontations with communists in Germany increased, and funerals for SA troops fallen in combat became occasions for Nazi demonstrations. Can the Croix-de-Feu be likened to these criminal organizations? 15 For La Rocque, his "dispos" were first of all a militia pledged to protect meetings of the Croix-de-Feu, just as the socialists and communists had theirs. They also had a more strategic function as they created an impression of power. The former military officer, trained in Morocco under General Hubert Lyautey, did not forget his slogan: "Show force so as not to have to
use it." Little could have been more impressive than these massive mobilizations, held at secret times and in secret places, in Chartres or Chantilly, as activists arrived by car or motorcycle, or as these troops stood lined up against those of the Popular Front, as they did on July 14, 1935 on the Champs-Élysées. Lastly, the "dispos" were there to defend not the regime but society in the event of any attempt at a communist revolution. In addition, in the context of nascent civil war in France
at the time, showing strength was also a way of showing the enemy, who also had thousands marching in formation, what they could expect from the Croix-de-Feu should they resort to violence. This is a far cry from the raids of the Italian squadrons or the crimes of the Nazi storm troopers. [11] 16 Though it did resort to mass mobilizations, the CDF/PSF did not seek physical confrontation. Take the example of an armed episode that, more than any other, identified the CDF/PSF in the eyes of its adversaries as a fascist movement, namely the "Clichy affair" of March 1937. The local section of the French Social Party had organized a "cinematographic gala" at which the
movie La Bataille by Claude Farrère was to be shown. About 400 men, 80 women, and 10 children turned out at the Olympia cinema in Clichy with printed invitations. It was rumored that La Rocque was planning to attend. A call for a counter-demonstration was made, signed by the socialist mayor and his communist deputy, and then posted. On the evening of March 16, as the municipal sirens began to sound, an attack by left-wing militants set on penetrating the premises where the event was to
be held provoked a volley of fire from an overwhelmed and poorly-led police force, which left five dead and more than 100 wounded among the left-wing activists, while the police suffered 257 casualties. The French Communist Party then called for the dissolution of the French Social Party. Although the gala was denounced as a provocation, La Rocque's men were able to invoke freedom of association, as many newspapers of the time commented. Although the Communist Party's call was rejected, the
tragic episode was further "proof," in the eyes of the left, of the fascist character of La Rocque's forces, even if they had at no time engaged into the violent street fighting. [12] 17 It is not convincing to
accuse the Croix-de-Feu, as Robert Soucy does, of threatening to use force in a coup. The attitude of the Croix-de-Feu on February 6 shows a respect for the rule of law and a desire to stand out from other protest organizations and especially from extremists who were planning to storm the Palais Bourbon. The testimony of Léon Blum before the commission of inquiry is telling: "If ... the column that was advancing down the left bank under the command of Colonel La Rocque had not stopped at the
flimsy barricade in the Rue de Bourgogne, there is no doubt that the [National] Assembly would have been engulfed by insurrection." 18 The CDF/PSF were also distinguished from the fascist paramilitaries by the way they dressed as the Croix-de-Feu forces stood in lines wearing no uniform, some in trilby hats, others in berets or caps. In an interview in
Vu magazine on February 8, 1934, La Rocque was asked about this point: "In our organization," he replied, "we wanted to impose a uniform, or at least the beginnings of a uniform. When I was asked about berets, I said: 'When do we start the goose step?' No. I would very much prefer that my men march with a bit more cheer, some in bowler hats and some in caps. It's more touching and it's more French! The Croix-de-Feu, you see, are a great brotherhood." 19 Robert Soucy will argue that this was only a ruse and that none of La Rocque's political statements can be taken at face value since his denials are merely decoys. Behind this facade of declared legality lurked a fascist: "The fact that he did not launch a suicide attack in 1935 or 1936 does not necessarily indicate a personality less fascistic than Hitler's, who, after the Munich
putsch, also opted for prudence" (Soucy 1995, 252). All of La Rocque's statements, all of the internal rules of the CDF/PDF, and all notable facts of the decade, Soucy will argue, amount to nothing: La Rocque was a crypto-fascist. 20 Other elements, Soucy claims, encourage comparison with the Italian
fascists and the Nazis, one of which being anti-Marxism. More specifically, since a movement of the right had to be anti-Marxist, "the socioeconomic solution the party proposed as a substitute for Marxism" was itself "typically fascist, involving conciliation instead of the class struggle, corporatism instead of socialism, domesticated labor unions instead of revolutionary ones, social harmony instead of sit-down strikes, hierarchy instead of equality, and bourgeois paternalism instead of
negotiating powers for the working class." In its overarching points, the analysis is accurate. But is it enough to convict on a charge of fascism? 21 Because they aspired to national reconciliation, La Rocque and the CDF/PSF used the slogan "Social first!" in opposition to the "Politics first!" of Maurras. In the short term, mutual assistance initiatives
provide the justification for the CDF/PSF to mobilize, particularly women, who were responsible for the distribution of food and clothing. [13] The same is true of demands for a minimum wage, a working day whose length would be determined for each profession and region, and the right to annual paid holidays, all of which should be negotiated by profession
and region. As regards the future, the long-term goal was to re-establish "harmony between the various categories of society, improve moral and material working conditions, grant the family its primordial place, restore the common heritage, and rehabilitate the land." According to the CDF/PSF, this reconciliation would be achieved through "corporatism." However, in an interview with Le Journal, La Rocque explained: "As to corporatism, we don't view it as the corporation of the past nor
as that of Mr. Mussolini. We have adopted the term 'organized profession,' to which we add the dimensions of the corporation, regionalism, and cooperation." [14] 22 "To organize a profession," he explains elsewhere,
"is to reunite, on the local, regional, and national levels, the various categories of workers, from the manual laborer to the manager, within a single branch of production. It is to associate similar and complementary categories of production. It is to juxtapose and combine, at the concerted initiative of the interested parties themselves, the various human, technical, and industrial elements of that production. It is to encourage and then protect their union according to defined rules. And at
the top, it is to provide the country, the State, and the government with an economic advisory committee whose rulings shall be both binding and freely issued." [15] 23 To this end, the French Social Party did not
aim to abolish labor unions, but instead wanted them to be "exclusively professional and regional: "Men of order and reconciliation should by no means wish for the disappearance of labor unions. Instead, they hold them to be indispensable artisans of the expected renaissance. They would be unable to manage without their collaboration. They expect them to remain independent of political, revolutionary, or electoral allegiances. They want to deliver them to their true destiny." [16] 24 This is certainly not Marxism. It is not even a non-Marxist leftist vision. La Rocque, military man and Catholic to the core, detested a class struggle that divided the nation and caused social discord. Clearly, he was a man of
the right, even of the far right. But this did not make him a fascist. His inspiration came from elsewhere. Like the popes of his time, he condemned "the excesses of capitalism" and dreamed of a generalized system of "cooperation," which would be defined by the State "but without direct interference by it." Already, in Rerum Novarum, Pope Leo XIII had simultaneously denounced capitalism and socialism and supported the reconciliation between capital and labor within corporations that
should be encouraged by the State, though the State should not meddle "in their internal government." This social doctrine, which was shared by his successors, favored intermediary bodies over State control. The encyclical Quadragesimo Anno issued by Pius XI in May 1931 closely matches the CDF/PSF doctrine of defending private property, guaranteeing the rights of the individual, formally condemning both socialism and communism, combatting destitution as well as the kind of liberalism
that is hostile to government intervention, rejecting class warfare, strikes, and lock-outs, and supporting for the idea of corporations, in which both labor and management unions were to participate. This is what the corporatism of associations supported by the PSF took its inspiration from, not the state-controlled corporatism of Mussolini. 25
Clarifying this point in his biography of La Rocque, Jacques Nobécourt observes that "these ideas were then part of a wider Catholic social movement" and were the focus of the Angers Social Weeks in the Spring of 1935. [17] Why therefore does Robert Soucy refuse to contemplate the possibility of Catholic sources of inspiration behind La Rocque's program?
Instead, he suggests that this Christian inspiration is mere clientelism and represents nothing more than an opportunistic defense of the Church by the fascists: "Even Doriot realized in 1938 that it was necessary to glorify the spirituality of the 'cathedrals of France.'" (Soucy 1995, 428). This argument is not very convincing. 26 To defend the interests
of the Catholic Church with discernment in specific circumstances is one thing, but to deny the Catholic social inspiration with which La Rocque and his ideas were deeply impregnated is quite another thing. Yet Soucy can also be reasonable when he remarks that: "He [La Rocque] opposed Catholicism of the left (such as, let us say, that of Emmanuel Mounier), and defended a form of politically authoritarian and socially conservative Catholicism" (Soucy 1995, 281). Duly noted. Yet no serious
historian has ever tried to claim that the head of the Croix-de-Feu was a Catholic of the left, especially since left-wing Catholicism was in the 1930s still a relatively modest movement in size. 27 Robert Soucy claims that "La Rocque considered liberalism, whether political or
cultural, to be an integral part of a general threat to authority, whether social, economic, religious, parental, or marital" (Soucy 1995, 283). 28 There is no doubt that La Rocque was a man of order. The slogan "Work, Family, Fatherland" was invented by the French Social Party and later borrowed without permission and made infamous by the Vichy regime.
Though it is no longer fashionable to make the family "the elementary unit of the social collectivity," this was a widely-held view in conservative political opinion at the time. Parental authority, the defense of the head of the family, and the "eminent" place of the mother at the "legal household" were all popular notions, defended in all Christian circles. On an institutional level, family-oriented Christian policies included the women's suffrage, which did not as yet exist, and the "family
vote," whereby voters received more or fewer votes depending on the number of their children. There was nothing original in the CDF/PSF's position since the women's suffrage (which was dreaded by the anti-clerical left and had been rejected by the Senate) and the family vote were both included in the program of the Christian Democratic Parti Démocrate Populaire (PDP). Restoring honor to having children and encouraging large families also went in the same direction. 29 There is no doubt that La Rocque was an adversary of "hedonism," a partisan of "tradition." But, unlike the fascists, he did not support the primacy of the State over the family or education. Instead, as a partisan of freedom of education, he resembles a “liberal”, as were called the Catholics who opposed the state monopoly during the 19th century. But Soucy is having
none of this: "The Nazis themselves claimed to be fierce partisans of the traditional family before coming to power. It was only after consolidating his power that Hitler called into question the authority of parents over their children" (Soucy 1995, 287). 30 Such is Soucy's approach. He dismisses all statements, programs, and manifestos by La Rocque and
the CDF/PSF that do not tend in the direction of "fascism" as mere propaganda, artifice, and lures, behind which lurk sinister preparations for the advent of a fascist regime. Anything that does not fit the profile of fascism must be interpreted as so many stalling tactics, ruses, and propaganda. This would last only until the movement comes to power. And, since the PSF never came to power, Soucy does not hesitate to use as evidence what happened in Italy and Germany after Mussolini and Hitler
did come to power. 31 In sum, La Rocque was neither republican nor democratic, we are told. But are things that simple? Take the [French] Revolution. The man was certainly no worshiper of that episode. Yet on the 150th anniversary of the 1789 Revolution, he offered the following analysis: "This Revolution, which spilled blood on our soil and
profaned our spiritual values, at the same time liberated the nation and preserved the unity of the fatherland." How many French [Catholic] prelates would go so far as to make such an admission? "It is unjust to claim that the Revolution was the cause of the tragedies it carried along with itself," La Rocque argued. "It was only a consequence of these tragedies. There is no doubt that the "men of the Revolution" lacked the gift of realism and the staying power needed for "progressive reform."
Yet they can be credited with a decisive event, namely: "The birth of the Third Estate, the popular classes." Moreover, the article concludes with an exaltation of the France of [the Battle of] Valmy. [18] This may not be the official version of communist historians, but it certainly is not the counter-revolutionary vulgate that was still being defended by
Action Française either. 32 Or let us take the case of republican government. The Croix-de-Feu program of 1935 is informative in this respect: "The Croix-de-Feu movement does not challenge the Republican regime." Neither monarchy nor dictatorship, therefore. Two contemporary witness accounts from the Christian Democratic movement draw clear
distinctions between the PSF and far-right movements. The first is an article by Robert Cornilleau, one of the directors of the PDP (which had caused a scandal a few years previously for advocating an alliance of the Christian Democrats and the Socialists). This article dates from November 1937, when the far right was running a violent campaign against La Rocque after he refused to join the Freedom Front (Front de la Liberté) founded by Doriot: "By refusing to contribute the
considerable moral and numerical force he had at his command in the service of a supposed anti-communist conspiracy," Cornilleau writes, "Colonel La Rocque has shown himself to be human, wise, and a true Frenchman from old France. All supporters of republican government who still love liberty owe him a debt of gratitude." [19] 33 In less immediate terms, in February 1938, the Catholic philosopher Gabriel Marcel wanted to demonstrate the clear agreement that existed between the positions of the French Social Party and those of the Catholic pro-republican weekly Temps Présent,
[20] the successor to Sept, which had been widely condemned for its positions on the Spanish civil war: "I repeat once again, even if with these words I commit only myself, that I am convinced that the spiritual climate of friendship and the concrete and solid understanding of the hard realities of daily life that the PSF has sought so
indefatigably to instigate in our country, a country devastated by mutual misunderstanding, by slogans filled with hatred, and above all perhaps, by a doctrine that is foreign to our spirit and that runs contrary to the teachings of experience and the demands of reason and faith, this human climate in the fullest sense of the word represents the vital soil in which a thinking that is at once national, universalist, and Christian and that to which the contributors to Temps Présent are
committed can take root." [21] 34 So what political system did the French Social Party advocate? To his critics, La Rocque repeatedly stated that he was hostile to all forms of dictatorship. The manifesto of the PSF
National Congress of December 1936 restated that it was "firmly attached to the republican liberties that form the endpoint of the glorious history of France and that exclude fascist dictatorship, Hitlerian absolutism, and the inhuman slavery of Soviet Marxism." Apparently, in the eyes of Robert Soucy, the budding dictator was revealing nothing but his Machiavellian approach. Yet La Rocque article, entitled "No fascism!" and published in Le Flambeau of May 1, 1937 states that: "France
does not need adventures. Its institutions need to be reformed not least so that they do not degenerate any further. Power centers need to be reassigned and given their own respective means to match their responsibilities according to the principles of republican government. No well-informed man of good faith could doubt our hostility to dictatorial eventualities."
[22] 35 Clearly, far from being a catch-all form of fascism, the CDF/PSF institutional project drew closer to a major current of anti-parliamentarianism, which had been growing steadily in France since 1919, and
which boomed at the time of Boulangism. "The executive is dominated by the 'responsibility' factor and supported by the 'duration' factor," La Rocque writes. "A head of state, mandated for a period of at least two successive legislatures and endowed with the right of [parliamentary] dissolution is responsible for the choice of ministers; he does not relinquish his responsibilities unless these are terminated by resignation or the verdict of a National Assembly convened, for instance, by a
two-thirds majority in each Chamber. A Prime Minister with the right of countersignature leads and coordinates the work of his colleagues, and he is given the necessary powers to that end, with a maximum of six or seven ministers individually responsible ..." 36 What this amounts to is a restoration of executive power, but also, at the other end, a "vigorous and prosperous decentralization; a fraternal France, generous with liberty, compensating for inequality; a France that is generously, intelligently liberal but freed from the indisciplines of 'liberalism'..." [23] 37 Let us remember also that at the time, numerous voices were being raised against the parliamentary regime in France, on both the left and the right. Reformists sought a restoration of executive power as a guarantee of a governmental stability that had become improbable. Even Léon Blum, the head of the Popular Front, the sworn rival of the CDF/PSF, following an initial essay, La réforme gouvernementale, published in 1918 (with a second edition published in 1936), in which he suggested that the executive power should be strengthened by the addition of a President of the Council [of Ministers], is critical in 1941, with the benefit of hindsight, of the parliamentarian character of the Third Republic. Blum goes so far as to write that: "A parliamentary, or representative, regime does not represent the form of democratic government most appropriate for French society." While reaffirming the principles of democracy, he adds that: "Parliamentarian government is not the sole, exclusive, or necessary form of democracy." He also makes administrative decentralization and "especially the deconcentration of powers" an imperative. [24] However, it is not enough to unite Blum and La Rocque under a single standard. Rather, one must try to uncover the extent to which their criticisms of the institutions of the Third Republic and of the functioning of parliamentary democracy converged. It is now known that de Gaulle, who shared these conclusions, opposed in 1945-1946 the proposed constitution of the Fourth Republic, promoting instead his own "Bayeux Constitution" and ultimately creating the Constitution of the Fifth Republic. Clearly, La Rocque and the CDF/PSF cannot be isolated from this history of anti-parliamentary criticism, which extends far beyond the circles of influence and the organs of the authoritarian right wing. 38 A pamphlet from 1935 entitled "Program of the French Croix-de-Feu Social Movement," sums up their objectives: 39
40 Another point deserves attention. In his history of La Rocque and the CDF/PSF, Robert Soucy dismisses as negligible the ruptures that occurred between the extremists and their "Leader" as well as the violent and extreme attacks the far right launched against La Rocque. Yet these arrowheads tell a rich tale. Marcel Bucard, founder of the Francist movement and later of the Parti Unitaire d’Action Socialiste et Nationale (United Party for Socialist and National Action), had already left the Croix-de-Feu, which he had helped to found, when La Rocque became its president. Bucard, an admirer of Mussolini who had once been received personally by the Duce, clung on to a more genuinely fascist program, compared to which La Rocque's ideas appear as so much boy-scouting. 41 Joseph Pozzo di Borgo, who also helped to found the Croix-de-Feu, would resign from the movement in 1936 due to what he saw as the unacceptably moderate positions of its leader and slogans, and went on to participate in negotiations with the Cagoule movement. His pamphlet, entitled La Rocque: Fantôme à vendre (La Rocque: Soul for Sale) also highlights the difference that existed at the time between an activist and the Colonel. In 1937, Maurice Pujo, in the name of Action Française, published Comment La Rocque a trahi (How La Rocque Betrayed Us), whose title is enough to give a taste of the overall tone. The same year, Jean Renaud, director of Solidarité Française, wrote in another pamphlet entitled J’accuse La Rocque: 42
43 Warnings by La Rocque against self-defense groups were not enough to prevent many press outlets from sowing confusion between the PSF and the CSAR (the Cagoule), when Cagoule men were subjected to legal action. For example, Henri de Kerillis published an article on the campaign against La Rocque in L’Œuvre of February 5, 1938, which originated from the Cagoule. [25] 44 Other facts demonstrate La Rocque's desire to preserve the independence of his party and to stand out from other leaders of fascist-sympathizing parties. In 1937, he refused to participate in the Freedom Front, which had been instigated by Jacques Doriot, following the Clichy affair. 45
46 At the request of his "friends," he stated his position with regard to Henry Dorgères and his Green Shirts and refused to support the Farmers' Front (Front Paysan), which abstained "from any declaration of loyalty to the republican format" and reiterated the "republican and democratic" character of the French Social Party. [27] To the very end, including after the start of the war, La Rocque wanted to defend the independence of his group and to protect it from any interference and from any forms of suspicious allegiance. As the PSF had been by far the most powerful party of the right, the hostility and hatred his attitude generated can easily be understood. In fact, the very title of the pamphlet by Marcel Pujo (Comment La Rocque a trahi [How La Rocque Betrayed Us]) subsequently became a leitmotif for all protagonists on the authoritarian right. Xavier Vallat and Philippe Henriot in particular stood out for their virulence and thoroughness. Antisemitism47 Antisemitism does not necessarily figure in the definition of fascism. Historians debate, incidentally, the turn taken by Italian fascism, whose antisemitism was not an original component, unlike Nazism. However, Robert Soucy, who insists on the "Hitlerian" character of the CDF/PSF, is untroubled by such nuances as he claims that in 1937, "the PSF became increasingly antisemitic," not only in Algeria but "also in France" (Soucy 1995, 231). This has the consequence of making La Rocque and his forces look worse by demonstrating that they were worse than the Italian fascists since they did not even wait to come to power before revealing their Jew-hating passion. Yet how much of this is true? 48 Clearly, some CDF/PSF activists were authentically antisemitic, especially in Algeria. Yet La Rocque himself never ceased to repeat the claim that "the ethnic problem does not exist in France" and that "Racism exists only in nations that have remained primitive." [28]This was far from the position adopted by some leaders and writers from the far-right leagues, from Marcel Bucard to the intellectuals behind the newspaper Je suis partout [I am everywhere]. 49 It is true that La Rocque was not insensitive to the xenophobic calls that filled the country during this crisis. His forces were drawn primarily from the middle class, whose corporatist bodies regularly denounced the ravaging effects of illegal immigration and of overly welcoming naturalization policies, which led to unfair professional competition. In Service Public, a book title that carries not the least fascist connotation, one finds an echo of this xenophobia, particularly against Jewish refugees from Germany and Central Europe after Hitler's rise to power. After affirming his anti-racism and his rejection of antisemitism ("The French race is a magnificent synthesis: disciplined, cultured, and balanced. It forms a unified whole. No linguistic research, no hereditary analysis can bely this fact."), La Rocque declares that it is necessary to "protect our loyal hospitality against the excessive surge of foreigners arriving to dispossess our workforce, spreading the germs of revolt and revolution among our citizenry, and contaminating the expression of our national thinking." And Robert Soucy cites these sinister-sounding words: "And behold, Hitlerian racism, combined with our own wild sentimentality, condemns us to host a swarming mass of virulent outlaws who know no master; and behold, among these a few islands break out, for whom Nazi persecution simply provides cover for espionage and conspiracy." [29] 50 Let us not seek to excuse La Rocque. Clearly, he is reciting an antiphon of the time, which is common not only to the right but to the far right as well. Somewhat similar phrases may be found in Pleins Pouvoirs [Full Powers] by Giraudoux. [30] Moreover, such things continue to be written today about immigrants, readily lumping them together with delinquents. In 1932, at the 7th Congress of the French Communist Party, Maurice Thorez excoriated "the xenophobic current that exists within our ranks." In fact, La Rocque's originality lies elsewhere, specifically in his refusal to follow a certain antisemitic doxa of both the right and far right, not only in words but also in deeds. 51 Let us remember that the CDF/PSF were open to all "men of good will," regardless of race or religion. In 1933, La Rocque along with 500 Croix-de-Feu attended a religious service at the synagogue in the Rue Notre-Dame-de-Nazareth in memory of the French soldiers of all religions who fell in the Great War. Every year, the presence of the CDF/PSF was noted at this ceremony. Moreover, Grand Rabbi Kaplan, following the troubles of February 6, 1934, eulogized the "heroic leader" La Rocque with these words: "Though I do not have the honor of membership in your association, I cannot help considering myself to be one of yours." [31] 52 There were even Jews among CDF/PSF activists. Of course, this did not prevent rampant antisemitism, particularly after the victory of the Popular Front. In Alsace and Moselle, an antisemitic thrust did mark the French Social Party, particularly in 1938. According to the prefect of Bas-Rhin department, in April 1938, the PSF leaders in Strasbourg had changed their attitude after "the return to power of Mr. Léon Blum." 53 However, this was not the case of the national leaders. La Rocque and the PSF were therefore subjected to attacks from antisemitic parties and interests for deliberately refusing to join Doriot's Freedom Front. Henri Coston, a professional antisemite, published a pamphlet in 1937 entitled: La Rocque et les Juifs, un nouveau scandale! [La Rocque and the Jews: A New Scandal!], which reprinted articles from Le Petit Oranais, a virulently antisemitic publication hostile to La Rocque, and concluded with the following choice insult: 54
55 Other pamphlets were then in circulation, including one which the Prefect of Moselle department passed on to the Minister of the Interior, entitled: La Rocque et l’emprise juive [La Rocque and the Jewish ascendancy]. [32] La Rocque did not fail to reply, in an editorial in Le Petit Journal on April 7, 1938, in order to "energetically suppress" the calls of the antisemites and to plead for "the greatest distrust of all individuals who devote themselves to this campaign against the Jews, and particularly any who may approach representatives of the party." Expulsions followed, [33] and the anti-antisemitic line was somehow maintained. One may well ask, in the formulation of Edmond Barrachin, whether La Rocque may not have represented something of a moral and political rampart against the wave of antisemitism at the time, particularly in the Alsace region, inundated as it was with German propaganda, at a time when so many publications, books, and organizations were adopting an antisemitic line and spreading it to all levels of society. For his part, Doriot, the founder of the Parti Populaire Français (PPF) in 1936, was not antisemitic at the outset, but he put on great antisemitic airs once he saw its political effectiveness. La Rocque's resistance on this question is thus rather remarkable, despite his concessions to the prevailing xenophobia. 56 Did his position change after the establishment of the Vichy National Revolution, and especially after the passage of the first laws on the status of the Jews in October 1940? Perhaps. But here again, the case merits closer consideration. Georges Wormser, in his biography of Georges Mandel, reports that General Mordacq, on learning of the forthcoming promulgation of race laws, declared to the Head of State: " Monsieur le Maréchal, you will dishonor our uniform." Pétain is said to have replied: "I don't care!" Once this exchange became more widely known, Wormser adds, "One of those who displayed the greatest indignation at the Maréchal's reply was Colonel La Rocque." [34] For its part, Doriot's Le Cri du Peuple [The Call of the People] welcomed the news that La Rocque did not succeed in blocking the passage of the laws: "The other day, we showed how Mr. La Rocque in his Petit Journal rushed to the aid of the Jews – but without success since the laws have been passed, but not without profit to his till." [35] This did not prevent La Rocque from apparently accommodating the antisemitism of the new regime. However, he stands apart from the antisemites and neo-antisemites who filled the streets of Vichy and flooded the Parisian press. Instead, he redirected his fire against the Freemasons: "In each location, on each occasion where Jewish purulence took place," he writes in Le Petit Journal of October 5, 1940, "the Freemasons were there, introducing, protecting, conspiring. Settling the Jewish question without destroying the Lodges and all their tentacles would be to perform a magic trick." [36] 57 In the great tradition of the Catholic right wing, La Rocque, in his late doctrinal work, Disciples d’action [Disciples of Action] published in 1941, did not hesitate to state that the Freemasons were the cause of all of France's ills. At least, he did not use the term "Judeo-Freemason" used by antisemites. However, faithful to a Sacred Union and to the fraternity of the trenches, the former soldier reaffirmed that: "Nothing in all of this prevented patriotic Jews from mixing their blood with our own on the battlefields in 1914-1918, on the battlefields of our external theaters of operation, on the battlefields of 1939-1940: they have earned their acceptance and the fraternity of the French." [37] This is a start! For their part, the antisemites of Vichy and Paris of the time did not bother with similar precautions since they were the ones who labeled him "Jewified" (enjuivé) and who continued to confront him. 58 Jewish influence on the PSF continued to be denounced by antisemites once they came to power. For example, a memo from the Secret Societies Department (Service des Sociétés Secrètes)of Haute-Garonne department dated February 2, 1942 gives the names of Jewish individuals in the the Colonel's immediate entourage. This is followed by this comment: 59
60 Taken as a whole, these testimonials make it very difficult to assert that La Rocque was a "dyed-in-the-wool" antisemite. Collaboration61 The worst accusation was yet to come: "In 1941," Robert Soucy writes, "none of the criticisms which La Rocque had previously directed at the Hitler regime prevented him from proposing a 'Continental collaboration' with the Germans. If we take his rupture with the Vichy regime in 1942 and his arrest by the Gestapo in 1943 as proof that he was not a fascist, we are only allowing this to overshadow his active collaboration with the Nazis between October 1940 and December 1941" (Soucy 1995, 214). 62 Let us review the details. In 1940, La Rocque rallied behind Pétain, whose "National Revolution" appeared compatible with his ideas. Had the new regime not borrowed the very slogan of the Croix-de-Feu, which it had invented in 1934, namely: "Work, Family, Fatherland?" Yet this allegiance brought him only limited power, unpopular as he was among Pétain's entourage. In a memo dated September 16, 1940, La Rocque recommends: "a) formal discipline behind Maréchal Pétain, and b) absolute reserve with regard to his government." [39] La Rocque agreed to join the National Council created in January 1941, but resigned somewhat precipitously on July 28 of the same year. He agreed to send a representative to negotiations regarding the proposed creation of a single party, but soon broke off talks with Marcel Déat, the originator of the plan. [40] He transformed his own party, though he retained its "French Social Progress "title, and reoriented its activities toward social aid. As a Pétain supporter of goodwill, he recognized his legitimacy "as the Head of State chosen in these tragic hours," adding: "Yet this book is not a dithyramb. I must warn that no adulation is permitted." Indeed, in Disciplines d’Action, we read nothing resembling the blandishments of publishers and of the press at that time. 63 Yet Soucy's accusation is rooted elsewhere since it concerns "collaboration" with the German Nazis. In this, we have proof that Soucy relies on falsified evidence. I will merely reproduce here a correction by Jacques Nobécourt, who had occasion to read the English edition of Soucy's volume just before writing his own biography of La Rocque: 64
65 For his part, Jean-Paul Thomas notes that: "Soucy cites the words 'Continental collaboration' from a 1941 book by La Rocque, adding the unquoted 'with the Germans,' which deliberately runs contrary to the meaning as the sentence and chapter cited in fact discuss reconstruction after the war, which the Colonel was already envisaging for Europe in 1939." [42] 66 As to La Rocque's supposed collaboration with the Germans, it is useful to read the entry on him in the Dictionnaire de la Politique Française [Dictionary of French Politics] by Henry Coston. This self-proclaimed and obsessive antisemite and fascist writes that: 67
68 The rest of the La Roque story does not concern us here, except for his membership of the Resistance, including his creation in France and in collaboration with the British Intelligence Service of the Klan network, which he led from June 1, 1942, through the dissolution of the PSF on October 30, 1942 by General Oberg, [44] his arrest in Fresnes and in Cherche-Midi jails in March and September 1943, and then his detention in the German prisons of Eisenberg and Itter, all of which provide further components of the case. However, this approach is irrelevant to Robert Soucy's diagnosis: La Rocque, fascist as he was, was a "French" fascist, ergo he opposed the occupying forces as a French nationalist. This would be to overlook the fate of those who were accused of fascism or Nazism in France. Although a few old Cagoule members and far-right activists joined the Resistance, Bucard, Doriot, Déat, Darnand, and the fascist writers Brasillach, Rebatet, Drieu La Rochelle, and Châteaubriant remained loyal collaborators to the bitter end, sometimes going so far as to wear the uniform of the legion of French volunteers. 69 La Rocque would then have been a disappointed lieutenant, distanced from the National Revolution, through which he might have hoped to realize his ambitions after July 10, 1940, though without much hope. [45] A patriot, loyal to the "victor of Verdun," he joined the Resistance, though not the Free French Forces of General de Gaulle. He felt that the fight had to be taken to French soil and not to London. In 1957, during an audience with Gilles de La Rocque, the son of the Colonel, General de Gaulle said to him: "I knew that La Rocque fought the good fight and was on the same side of the fence in a different form, but why didn't he join me?" [46] There are numerous explanations, and I would refer the reader once again to the biography by Jacques Nobécourt. It appears to me that, although contingencies did play a role, the most important factor was the political antagonism between the leader of the old Croix-de-Feu and the political men and organizations that surrounded de Gaulle. The disputes of the 1930s were not forgotten. 70 Was the Croix-de-Feu/PSF a Fascist Party?71 The revolutionary dimension of fascism72 From the height of the antifascist struggle to the views of modern historians, the definition of fascism has varied. To sidestep a fruitless polemic, I will take as my point of departure the definition given by Emilio Gentile, one of the preeminent Italian specialists, in Qu’est-ce que le fascisme?: 73
74 Although Michel Dobry would call this definition too narrow and not "plain" enough, we must be clear about the terms we use. As I said earlier, the case is closed if fascism means indistinctly anti-communist, anti-liberal, or anti-parliamentary reactionaries organized into more or less militarized groups seeking to establish regimes vested with authority. Agreement with Dobry and Soucy would be easy if that is what fascism is. If so, then France did experience fascism and, while it did not come to power, it posed a real threat. However, the labor and socialist movement of Marxist origin in France, the French Section of the Workers’ International (Section Française de l'Internationale Ouvrière – SFIO), the French communist party, and the Trotskyist groups cannot be lumped together. Any historian defining these different groups simply as "socialist movements" or "Marxist movements" would not be taken seriously. 75 Were Hitler, Mussolini, Salazar, Franco, Horthy, or even Pilsudski and Pétain all fascists? Does distinguishing, classifying, or defining them amount to mere intellectual hair-splitting casting dubious light on one’s principles? Let us try to show why fascism – a 20th century political phenomenon that followed the Great War and a contemporary of that other radically new feature of the century, the Bolshevik revolution – does not apply to all reactionary movements or to all nationalist popular movements. 76 In the French case, the whole question revolves around the Croix-de-Feu (CDF) and the French Social Party (Parti Social Français – PSF) led by Lieutenant-Colonel François de La Rocque. The CDF/PSF was obviously the strongest, most popular, and most threatening league, and later, party as far as the left was concerned. If the Croix-de-Feu was fascist, then no doubt remains that fascism was a major player in French politics. 77 Fascism has one dimension that sets it apart from other far-right movements. Anti-Marxism, anti-liberalism, and anti-parliamentarism, even when combined with nationalism and corporatism are not enough to classify a far-right movement as a fascist movement. The dictatorships of Salazar and Franco were not fascist in the sense that those of Mussolini and Hitler were. The originality of fascism is that while it is a reactionary movement, it is also a revolutionary one. It seeks not only to replace a parliamentary regime by personal power, but strives to create a "new man" via a totalitarian and bellicose regime. 78 The term "totalitarianism" originated in Italian liberal circles to designate fascist Italy. It was taken up by Mussolini who, in 1925, called for a "fierce totalitarian will." In the 1932 Encyclopedia Italiana, the Duce and his spokesperson Giovanni Gentile wrote that: 79
80 The terms "totalitarian" and "totalitarianism" then spread from Italy to the rest of Europe and the United States, where they were used post-1933 to designate fascist, national-socialist, or communist states. Luigi Sturzo, a priest and Christian Democrat, was one of the first to use the term to refer to "three great totalitarian States with different characteristics, but all three nationalistic and founded on administrative and political centralization, militarism, a monopolized education, and a controlled economy." [48] 81 While totalitarianism is a characteristic of fascism and the notion clearly spread in the 1930s, the fact remains that a totalitarian reality was only fully unfurled in fascist regimes, whereas fascist movements only presented more or less visible signs of it. Although the CDF/PSF never held power, one might try to imagine the worst had it done so. However, those claiming that La Rocque aimed to create a totalitarian dictatorship are hard-pressed to find in its doctrine or actions signs that foreshadowed such a regime. In fact, the back cover of the PSF's program document shows Marianne pushing the swastika, the fascist sheaf, and the sickle and hammer out of France. One could read the content of that document over and over again without finding any signs of a totalitarian agenda. Instead, the document reaffirms that the party does not seek to challenge the French republican regime and that while it does advocate the strengthening of the executive branch to the detriment of the legislative branch, it does not advocate abolishing parliament or the right to vote (which would be made mandatory). 82 The fascist will to create a "new man" had a bellicose nature from the outset. Fascism exalts war and cannot exist outside of imperialist ambition, a conqueror mentality, and the warrior ideal. In Mein Kampf, Hitler affirms "the rigid law of necessity and the right to victory of the best and stronger." In Hitler’s mind, all human beings strive for expansion and all peoples strive for world domination. In Fascism, Doctrines, and Institutions, Mussolini asserts that fascism is the "will to achieve power and domination." By contrast, the PSF document reveals no militarist or expansionist agenda. Nothing is more opposed to its vision of international relations than the fascist will to achieve power. As the document states, "France must remain true to its tradition and peacemaking mission while tenaciously seeking the best ways to lead the civilized world toward a practical conception of collective security." That statement has a Léon Blum-like ring to it. 83 Whatever intentions parties may have had, the overall situation in France encouraged peace among all parties. As is often noted, the winners are always pacifists. Victorious in 1918 and already possessing a colonial empire, France no longer had territorial ambitions. Moreover, the country’s population was aging and began declining in 1935. It was still recovering from a world war fought on home soil that had left it bloodied and scarred forever. That context was hardly favorable to the birth and rise of expansionist, aggressive, and warmongering nationalism. French fascists went to war by proxy for the Italians in Ethiopia and the Phalangists in Spain. Gilles, the hero of Drieu La Rochelle, best expressed the impotence of French fascists, saying that their only option was to flee from France and fight for the Francoist army. But if the CDF/PSF was not fascist, what was it? A mass party of the right84 Those who witnessed the development of the CDF/PSF were struck by one new and original feature. It was a mass party of the right. We know Maurice Duverger’s now classic distinction between elite-based parties and mass-based parties. Except for the Leagues, which were short-lived, and before the emergence of the CDF/PSF, the right was composed of elite-based parties led by figures with political and financial clout, in effect generals in need of soldiers but not of electors. Mass parties originated with the socialist movement of the late 19th century. Just after World War I, the SFIO became the first party in France to reach 100,000 members. According to Le Flambeau, membership of the Croix-de-Feu rose from barely 13,000 in 1930 to 30,000 in 1934 and then to between 700,000 and 900,000 just before it was dissolved in 1936. In June 1936, Le Flambeau had 512,000 subscribers. For its part, the PSF enjoyed even higher membership, with some exaggerated estimates putting the number at three million. Today, historians of the period and of the movement agree on the figure of one million. [49] Whatever the exact number, it most likely had more members than the socialist and communist parties combined. 85 The CDF/PSF also had the means to organize public meetings, marches, and rallies comparable in size to those of the Front Populaire. Of course, estimates by the police and organizers of the number of participants in such meetings are always questionable, being either under- or overstated. Suffice it to say that La Rocque could mobilize tens of thousands. Most often, the halls rented for meetings were too small, and he held simultaneous meetings in close proximity so he could speak at both. On January 28, 1935, for instance, 35,000 people gathered at four Paris sites: Wagram, Bullier, Magic City, and Mutualité. Over 50,000 people attended the marches in the Rue de Rivoli (on Joan of Arc Day in May) and the Champs-Élysées (on the July 14 French national holiday). In other years, even more attended. Rallies in other parts of France were just as popular. Even if overstated, these numbers show the extent of the CDF/PSF’s political weight and suggest that the PSF would have been by and large the most successful party of the right in the 1940 elections, had they been held. 86 Naturally, La Rocque and his followers became the most visible, strongest, and most dangerous foe of the Front Populaire parties. Since their members were united against fascism, by sheer force of numbers, thePSF was often labeled the "fascist party" that must be overcome. The response to the attack on Léon Blum on February 13, 1936 at the funeral of Jacques Bainville serves as a good example. This showcased the amalgamation, focalization, and orchestration typical of political propaganda techniques. Although the Croix-de-Feu had no hand in that mob action – which was improvised yet had long since been encouraged by hateful articles in L’Action Française, the newspaper L’Humanité called for retaliation over the following days, publishing on its front page not a picture of Charles Maurras but of La Rocque, labeling him a "factious leader." Thanks to its membership, the Croix-de-Feu was a more serious and credible enemy than Action Française. In fact, tens of thousands attended the counter-demonstration held by the PSF outside the communist meeting at the Parc des Princes on October 4, 1936. No party of the right, no nationalist league, not even Doriot’s French Popular Party (Parti Populaire Français), with its 180,000 members, could mobilize so many so fast. That display of power partially explains why the CDF/PSF was identified with fascism. In the CDF/PSF, the Front Populaire found its rallying cry and the enemy it needed to calm internal conflicts. With a clearly identified fascist target, the antifascists could now close ranks. Many Front Populaire leaders knew that La Rocque’s movement was not fascist. Proof is Thorez’s "proffered hand" to Croix-de-Feu activists prior to the 1936 elections, which shows that not all were seen as "lost causes." [50] However, the colonel did lead the most organized opposition to the Front Populaire. According to the logic of action, he had to appear as the incarnation of French fascism and thus became a foe against which the Front Populaire could stand united. 87 What this mass party of the right does share with fascist movements is anti-communism, anti-parliamentarism, [51] and anti-freemasonry. La Rocque’s desire to be "neither right nor left," a fascist slogan, is also a common theme. Yet his inspiration differed from fascism. La Rocque was a nationalist and a Christian who looked on the Union Sacrée (Sacred Union) with nostalgia. His political project was not to strengthen the right. He wanted to unite French people and bridge the right-left divide. Though undoubtedly naive, he wanted to close that long-existing schism and to restore the virtues of a real national union, as in 1914. His natural opponents were those who divided people, starting with the communists and the socialists. He wanted a new republic based on a military vision, one that would be hierarchical and with a strengthened executive branch. In that, he merely borrowed ideas about constitutional reform from various sources along the political spectrum, which had been circulating since 1919 but never carried through. What he opposed was a republican model that resulted in a parliamentary regime, which he deemed unfit to govern. How would he achieve his goals? As the PSF document states, "Within the legal framework, by exercising the civic and political rights the Constitution grants all citizens, and through force should the revolutionary parties resort to violence and trample on our liberties in order to impose their dictatorship." 88 Although one might argue that those were just words, CDF/PSF publications contain no other directive or goal than to win elections and reform the republic, and, if necessary, defend society against subversive actions by revolutionaries. 89 Sociologically speaking, we have long known that La Roque recruited mostly among the middle-class, particularly the self-employed middle-class, which represented a high percentage of the labor force, and was the same electoral base the Parti Radical-Socialiste (Radical-Socialist Party) catered for. However, the Matignon Accords and the ensuing labor laws introduced by the Front Populaire led to the downfall of Léon Blum as a result of a rebellion by Radical senators. Likewise, the implementation order for the new labor laws (particularly the 40-hour work week) caused the Radical members of the legislature to rebel. Thus the PSF benefited from the malaise created by the "laborism" of the Front Populaire. [52] We also know that the Parti Socialiste discussed ways to defend a middle-class in full economic crisis, resulting in the emergence of Marcel Déat’s neo-socialism. However, the simple fact of being the party of the middle-class par excellence does not automatically turn the PSF into a fascist party. This socioeconomic class had been long-time supporters of the République Radicale, with the defense of small holdings as its core tenet in a society largely made up of small landowners, peasants, artisans, and small business owners (or roughly 40 percent of the labor force in 1936). A Precursor to Gaullism?90 Many historians have noted similarities between the CDF/PSF and the Rassemblement du Peuple Français (Rally of the French People – RPF) founded by de Gaulle in 1947. The two parties shared a desire for unity across right-left party lines, a dislike of the parliamentary system, a belief in a new French republican regime with a stronger executive branch and a restored principle of authority, the political promotion of the President, and class reconciliation via cooperation between capital providers and laborers. The RPF was also a major mass movement, though for a shorter time, winning the 1947 municipal elections by a large margin. Yet, it was not a direct descendant of the CDF/PSF. The Second World War had changed the context, and de Gaulle and La Rocque were different individuals. 91 Still, in addition to having quite similar doctrinal foundations (nationalism, anti-communism, anti-parliamentarism), several leaders of the RPF were former PSF members, as shown in Jean-Paul Thomas’ doctoral dissertation. [53] In the eyes of the left, the Rassemblement Gaulliste (Gaullist Rally) was clearly a new fascism. In December 1947, the journal Esprit raised the alarm in a special issue entitled "The Lull of Fascism is Over." Although not all the articles were about France, it was the birth of the RPF and its appeal to the masses that sparked off this new resistance. Paul Fraisse’s editorial contained a theme that is at the core of the present analysis, namely that "Fascism is a foreign word. In French, it translates literally as ‘rally.’" Yet not all mass parties are necessarily fascist. In the same issue, Jean-Marie Domenach had no problem shooting down the "myth of the national rally". It was this myth that led de Gaulle to aim to replace the party system with a new Sacred Union that could only exist under the authority of a leader. Both La Rocque and de Gaulle after him were veterans of World War I, and they dreamed of eradicating or at least greatly minimizing the conflicts that weakened the nation, and in particular the class struggle. This myth of the national rally was a founding principle of the Fifth Republic and of a new constitution that might be seen as contrary to the republican tradition, particularly the 1962 version, which provided for the election of the President by universal suffrage. Although we may criticize these policies, it would be unheard of today to label the Gaullist regime as fascist. All other things being equal, the crisis of the Fourth Republic shared many points with the crisis of the Third Republic in the 1930s. In the words of Domenach, "The parliamentary institutions we are subjected to are so devoid of sense that they can no longer serve as a platform of resistance." While this outlook was painfully confirmed by the Algerian War, we must keep in mind the crises of the parliamentary system in the 1930s and the 1950s if we are to grasp the success of both La Rocque and de Gaulle. 92 Many years later, La Rocque’s old adversaries reassessed their initial view of him. In 1962, the socialist Daniel Mayer said the following of the February 6 events: "In the days before and even that very night, it seems as if Colonel La Rocque did not have the same goal as those with whom our legitimate passion associated him and from which it would appear he wanted to differentiate himself." [54] For his part, Christian-Democrat Étienne Borne argued that: 93
94 Here is another account, this one by writer Gilles Perrault. In a letter to Gilles de La Rocque dated July 2, 1985, he said: 95
96 Before concluding, I will borrow a clarification from historian Philippe Machefer, who did pioneering work on political coalitions and in 1970 began writing his doctoral dissertation on the PSF, a work he was unable to complete because of his duties as senator (socialist) followed by an early death. At the request of Gilles de La Rocque, Machefer sent him a summary of his research in a letter dated August 10, 1981. It states that: 97
98 In 1944-45, Daladier, in handwritten note to Itter, stated that: ‘Deep down, I believe that La Rocque wanted to create a national movement whose aim was to win a majority lawfully." 99
100 Of course, we can speculate about what the CDF/PSF would have done had it came to power. Would it have been a Bonapartist regime – a compromise between dictatorship and the republican legacy, or a Salazar-type regime – a reactionary dictatorship with close ties between State and Church, or a fascist regime – totalitarian internally and aggressive externally? But nothing about the CDF/PSF movement or its political agenda foreshadows the establishment of a dictatorship. In a letter dated October 17, 1939 to his son Jean-François, La Rocque affirms that he is against domestic conflict in the following terms: "Our task is to bring about the necessary change in the political and social arenas as quickly as possible, not to impose them through force." [58] Once in power, La Rocque could have initiated the process of constitutional reform within the republican framework, as did General de Gaulle in 1958. It is also possible that like Gaston Doumergue in 1934, the PSF might have entirely failed to reform the regime and achieved little more than rebuilding a more homogenous right. 101 Too many variables coexist to allow us to decide, including the economic context, political power struggles, the international context, war, and more. Authoritarian regimes and fascist regimes both changed over time. Mussolini’s regime in the 1920s, which compromised with the reactionary right, took a totalitarian turn in the second half of the 1930s. In France, the Gaullist regime established after May 13, 1958 also underwent changes starting in the 1970s. The possibilities are endless, and we can only judge based on what was, not what might have been. 102 During the Interwar period, and in particular in the 1930s, a wave of authoritarian movements and regimes swept Europe. To my mind, grouping them all under the term “fascism” is invalid. At first, fascism designated the regime established by Mussolini. The term was also applied to national-socialism, the first phase of Francoism (1939-1945), the brief Legionary regime in Romania, Szàlazi’s Arrow Crosses in Hungary, and all other movements that, in France and elsewhere, were modeled on Italian fascism, such as Marcel Bucard’s Francism or Jacques Doriot’s PPF (albeit in a progressive form). Although other regimes were influenced by fascism to varying degrees, these remained traditional dictatorships in which the army, the conservative right, and the Church (Catholic or Orthodox) were all stakeholders. These include the regimes of Pilsudski in Poland, Horthy in Hungary, Smetona in Lithuania, Dollfuss in Austria, Salazar in Portugal, Metaxas in Greece, and Vichy France under Pétain. [59] However, the Croix-de-Feu, with its roots in Social Christianity, might have founded a regime falling into none of these categories, but one more closely tied to a national history heavily influenced by the dual legacy of the 1789 Revolution and Bonapartism, much like the features the Fifth Republic, which shares little with the republican parliamentary tradition, still exhibits today. 103 In conclusion, I argue that the term “fascism” cannot be applied to all movements supportive of right-leaning authoritarianism, the so-called national right, or the far-right. Only activists, with no taste for nuance, refuse to make distinctions. The good historian has neither scores to settle nor a political agenda to defend. The historian’s main concern is making sense of the past. There exists a gap between researchers and citizens, or to paraphrase the title of two conferences given by Max Weber in 1917 and 1919, between the “scholar” and the “politician.” In their work, historians must silence their passions and not confound research and attempts to demonstrate a pre-existing truth. It is true that a tendency to harbor distrust has long-since cast doubt on researchers' impartiality. As Sartre might say, researchers are beings “in situation” and thus always subject to influence. Of course, historians are not machines that simply state the true and the false. That is why modesty is critical to researchers, who must constantly question themselves. Their rule must be to ignore their prejudices and political loyalties and to overcome their fear of contradicting the doxa of their peers, their camp, their party, and their milieu. When they are wrong, they must acknowledge this in good faith. However, Dobry and Soucy have by no means convinced me that I am wrong about French fascism. I observed its traces, the influence it held in some circles, and in particular in intellectual aspects, and saw that “impregnation” reflected in certain groups and parties. Clearly, I cannot claim that French fascism did not exist. Yet I observed its limits and stated the objective causes of these limits. Lastly, I agreed with my opponents regarding the central issue of this discussion, which is whether or not the Croix-de-Feu/Parti Social Français was fascist. If it was fascist, we cannot claim that fascism was a marginal phenomenon in France in the 1930s. If it was not, then French fascism did not have a powerful presence. By reassessing the question using archive material about La Rocque, the news media of the day, numerous first-hand accounts, and research publications, I argue in this paper that the Croix-de-Feu and the PSF cannot be called a fascist party unless, of course, we disregards semantic precision altogether. Notes
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In what ways did fascism challenge the ideas and practices of European liberalism and democracy?In what ways did fascism challenge the ideas and practices of European liberalism and democracy? A: Fascism grew rapidly and there was the idea of taking over the world. That was the grand task for germany in their system of fascism. Democracy was power to the people and Fascism was strictly a dictatorship.
Which of the following was the fundamental justification for the Jesuit establishment of missions like the one described in the excerpt?Which of the following was the fundamental justification for the Jesuit establishment of missions like the one described in the excerpt? To promote the spread of Roman Catholicism throughout the New World.
Which of the following best explains the social dislocations experienced by much of Europe in the nineteenth century?Which of the following best explains the social dislocations experienced by much of Europe in the nineteenth century? conditions over the course of the nineteenth century? Governments were increasingly under political pressure to relieve problems caused by industrialization.
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Which of the following would best explain the appeal of fascism in france alluded to in the passage?
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