The De Gaulle Presidency and the Media: Statism and Public Communications

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The de Gaulle Presidency and the Media Statism and Public Communications

Jean K. Chalaby

The de Gaulle Presidency and the Media

French Politics, Society and Culture Series General Editor: Robert Elgie, Senior Lecturer in European Politics, The University of Nottingham France has always fascinated ouside observers. Now, the country is undergoing a period of profound transformation. France is faced with a rapidly changing international and European environment and it is having to rethink some of its most basic social, political and economic orthodoxies. As elsewhere, there is pressure to conform. And yet, while France is responding in ways that are no doubt familiar to people in other European countries, it is also managing to maintain elements of its long-standing distinctiveness. Overall, it remains a place that is not exactly commes les autres. This new series examines all aspects of French politics, society and culture. In so doing it focuses on the changing nature of the French system as well as the established patterns of political, social and cultural life. Contributors to the series are encouraged to present new and innovative arguments so that the informed reader can learn and understand more about one of the most beguiling and compelling of all European countries. Titles include: Jean K. Chalaby THE DE GAULLE PRESIDENCY AND THE MEDIA Statism and Public Communications David Drake INTELLECTUALS AND POLITICS IN POST-WAR FRANCE David J. Howarth THE FRENCH ROAD TO EUROPEAN MONETARY UNION

French Politics, Society and Culture Series Standing Order ISBN 0–333–80440–6 hardcover (outside North America only) You can receive future titles in this series as they are published by placing a standing order. Please contact your bookseller or, in case of difficulty, write to us at the address below providing your name and address, the title of the series and the ISBN quoted above. Customer Services Department, Macmillan Distribution Ltd, Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 6XS, England

The de Gaulle Presidency and the Media Statism and Public Communications Jean K. Chalaby Lecturer City University, London

© Jean K. Chalaby 2002 All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without written permission. No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted save with written permission or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, or under the terms of any licence permitting limited copying issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency, 90 Tottenham Court Road, London W1P 0LP. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. The author has asserted his right to be identiﬁed as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. First published 2002 by PALGRAVE MACMILLAN Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 6XS and 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010 Companies and representatives throughout the world PALGRAVE MACMILLAN is the global academic imprint of the Palgrave Macmillan division of St. Martin’s Press, LLC and of Palgrave Macmillan Ltd. Macmillan® is a registered trademark in the United States, United Kingdom and other countries. Palgrave is a registered trademark in the European Union and other countries. ISBN 0-333-75138-8 This book is printed on paper suitable for recycling and made from fully managed and sustained forest sources. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Chalaby, Jean K. The de Gaulle presidency and the media: statism and public communications/Jean K. Chalaby. p. cm. – (French politics, society and culture) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0–333–75138–8 1. Gaulle, Charles de, 1890–1970–Views on mass media. 2. France–Politics and government–1958–1969. 3. Mass media policy–France–History–20th century. 4. Government publicity–France. 5. Press and politics–France. I. Title. II. French politics, society, and culture series. DC420.C4238 2002 944.083¢6¢092–dc21 [B] 2001056114 10 11

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Printed and bound in Great Britain by Antony Rowe Ltd, Chippenham and Eastbourne

To my parents, Raphaëlle and Reda, and my brother, Fernaz

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Contents List of Tables and Figures

xi

List of Illustrations

xiii

List of Abbreviations

xv

Acknowledgements

xvii

Introduction

xix

Part I 1 1.1 1.2 1.2.1 1.2.2 1.2.3 1.2.4 1.3

2 2.1 2.2 2.3 2.4 2.5 2.5.1 2.6 2.6.1 2.6.2 2.6.3 2.6.4

The Press

1

The Press, 1945–69 The post-Liberation press The press during the de Gaulle presidency The Paris-based press The provincial press Defining a national press Patterns of press ownership The effects of the presidency and television on the press

3 3 8 10 16 17 19

Press Opinion during the de Gaulle Presidency The Paris-based newspapers The provincial press Current affairs magazines: Le Nouvel Observateur and L’Express Periodicals De Gaulle and the intelligentsia: the reviews Gaullism and structuralism Conclusions Press opinion during the de Gaulle Presidency Dating the discontinuity in press support The divide between popular and quality newspapers Concluding remark

23 24 42

vii

20

49 53 55 57 59 59 65 66 68

viii Contents

3 3.1 3.1.1 3.1.2 3.1.3 3.1.4 3.2 3.2.1 3.3 Part II 4 4.1 4.2 5

The President and the Press De Gaulle’s comments on the press De Gaulle’s memoirs Public comments Private conversations Conclusion Relationship with journalists Charles de Gaulle and Hubert Beuve-Méry Origins of de Gaulle’s opinion on the press The Broadcasting Media The State Radio and Television during the Fourth Republic The development of television in the 1940s and 1950s The national broadcaster as a Government Agency

69 69 69 73 75 76 77 79 80 83

85 85 86

5.1 5.1.1 5.1.2 5.2 5.3 5.4 5.4.1 5.4.2 5.4.3 5.4.4 5.5

The National Broadcaster during the de Gaulle Presidency The broadcasting reforms The 1959 reform The 1964 reform The affair of La Caméra explore le temps Television and political struggle, 1965–68 May 1968 at the ORTF The incubation period The strike The ‘restoration’ The government and de Gaulle during the crisis Conclusion

93 94 94 96 104 106 111 111 114 118 120 121

6 6.1 6.1.1 6.1.2 6.1.3 6.2 6.2.1

The ORTF as State Broadcaster Means of control over the ORTF Appointments, sanctions and promotions Directives and the SLII Pressure calls and direct interventions Power and information Political reporting

123 123 123 126 128 134 134

Contents ix

6.2.2 6.3 6.3.1 6.3.2 6.4 6.5

Presidential coverage Access to television Access to television during electoral campaigns General access Public discourse domesticated State television versus public television

Part III De Gaulle and the Process of Public Communications 7 7.1 7.2 7.3 7.4 7.4.1 7.4.2 7.4.3 7.4.4 7.4.5 7.5 8 8.1 8.2 8.3 8.3.1 8.3.2 8.4 8.5 9 9.1 9.1.1 9.1.2

De Gaulle’s Communications Strategy Broadcast addresses and interviews Press conferences A reluctant campaigner: candidate de Gaulle The origins of de Gaulle’s communications strategy The clash of ideologies: de Gaulle’s wartime experience De Gaulle’s action of presence Performing charismatic actions The impact of the presidency on the public communications system Influences from the social sciences Conclusion

136 140 141 145 146 147

149 151 151 158 160 163 163 165 167 171 173 176

One State, One Nation, One Television: Making Sense of de Gaulle’s Broadcasting Policy Television and the process of state-building Television as an instrument of government Social cohesion and national identity Television and national identity One people – one audience Television as the ‘voice of France’ The Gaullist broadcasting policy and the opposition

177 177 180 182 182 184 186 188

Reason of State and Public Communications: de Gaulle in Context de Gaulle and his predecessors Richelieu Napoléon

189 189 189 193

x Contents

9.1.3 9.2 9.2.1 9.2.2 9.2.3

Public communications and the project of the nation-state De Gaulle and contemporary American presidents The presidential press conference in France and the United States Presidential uses of television Conclusions

197 198 198 203 205

Conclusion: a Statist Public Communications System

207

Appendixes

209

Notes

217

References

231

Index

243

List of Tables and Figures Table 1.1 Table 1.2 Table 1.3 Table 1.4

Table 2.1

Table 2.2

Table 2.3

Table 2.4

Table 2.5

Number of daily newspapers and print-run figures in Paris and the Provinces (in 1000s) Circulation of Paris-based daily newspapers (in 1000s) Circulation of the 11 leading provincial daily newspapers (in 1000s) Geographical distribution of the sale of Paris-based daily newspapers in 1970 (percentages) Stances of 11 Paris-based daily newspapers at the 1958, October 1962 and 1969 referenda, the 1965 presidential election and the 1967 legislative elections Stances of 11 provincial daily newspapers at the 1958, October 1962 and 1969 referenda, the 1965 presidential election and the 1967 legislative elections Number of Paris-based and provincial daily newspapers in content analysis supporting or opposing de Gaulle or the Gaullists at the 1958, October 1962 and 1969 referenda, the 1965 presidential election and the 1967 legislative elections Number and percentage of daily newspapers in content analysis supporting or opposing de Gaulle or the Gaullists at the 1958, October 1962 and 1969 referenda, the 1965 presidential election and the 1967 legislative elections Percentage of daily newspapers in content analysis in terms of circulation supporting or opposing de Gaulle or the Gaullists at the 1958, October 1962 and 1969 referenda, the 1965 presidential election and the 1967 legislative elections xi

9 10 18

19

26

44

60

61

62

xii List of Tables and Figures

Figure 2.1

Figure 2.2

Table 6.1 Figure 7.1 Table 7.1

Table 9.1

Appendix 1 Appendix 2 Appendix 3 Appendix 4

Percentage of titles and circulation in content analysis in favour of de Gaulle or the Gaullists at the 1958, October 1962 and 1969 referenda, the 1965 presidential election and the 1967 legislative elections Percentage of titles and circulation in content analysis and votes in favour of de Gaulle or the Gaullists at the 1958, October 1962 and 1969 referenda, the 1965 presidential election and the 1967 legislative elections. Percentage of time devoted to de Gaulle’s trips versus other topics in four news bulletins De Gaulle’s broadcast interventions from 1958 to 1969 Voting intentions among those who had and did not have a TV set in a period of six weeks before the first round of the presidential election (percentages) Number and frequency of press conferences held by de Gaulle and contemporary American presidents Ministers or officials in charge of information, 1958–72 Directors-General, RTF/ORTF, 1949–73 Directors of Television, RTF/ORTF, 1952–72 Number of television sets and percentage of households possessing a television set, 1950–74

63

64 138 152

162

199 209 211 213 215

List of Illustrations 2.1 6.1 6.2

7.2 7.3

Roland Moisan’s caricature of Charles de Gaulle, Le Canard Enchaîné, 1 December 1965 Stills of de Gaulle’s departure for an official visit to Italy, 25 June 1959 Stills from the news bulletins on 15, 16, 17 February 1959, of de Gaulle’s trip to southwestern France, 14–18 February 1959 Stills from de Gaulle’s broadcast address on 6 April 1962 De Gaulle’s third interview of the presidential campaign, with Michel Droit, 15 December 1965

xiii

54 137

139 153 157


List of Abbreviations AFP CGT CFTC FNPF MRP NMPP OFI ORTF RDF RTF SLII SNEP SNRT SOFIRAD SPPP SUT UNR UNR-UDT

Agence France-Presse Confédération générale du travail Confédération française des travailleurs chrétiens Fédération nationale de la presse française Mouvement républicain populaire Nouvelles messageries de la presse parisienne Office français d’information Office de radiodiffusion-télévision française Radiodiffusion française Radiodiffusion-télévision française Service de liaison interministérielle pour l’information Société nationale des entreprises de presse Syndicat national de radio et de télévision Société financière de radiodiffusion Société professionnelle des papiers de presse Syndicat unifié des techniciens Union pour la nouvelle République Union pour la nouvelle République – Union démocratique du travail

xv


Acknowledgements

This book was made possible by a three-year research grant from the Swiss National Science Foundation. I wish to express my deep gratitude to them. I am also grateful to Professor Uli Windisch, at the University of Geneva, Switzerland, for his support. I wish to thank my wife, Jane, Sally Crawford, my editor, and John M. Smith at Palgrave Macmillan for their help in the preparation of the manuscript and proofs. Further assistance was kindly provided by Guillaume Papazoglou, Librarian of the Institut Charles de Gaulle in Paris, and the staff of the Bibliothèque Nationale and the Institut National de l’Audiovisuel.

xvii


Introduction

I The objective of this book is threefold. Firstly, it examines the most salient aspects of the media during the de Gaulle presidency from 1958 to 1969. This includes the press and the broadcast media as well as media laws and policies. Secondly, the book studies the relationship between de Gaulle and the media in the 1960s. Facets of this relationship include the opinion the press had of de Gaulle, the president’s own views on the press, his relationship with journalists and his role in the shaping of broadcasting policy. It also involves de Gaulle’s use of the broadcast media and his overall communications strategy. Thirdly, the book analyses the mechanisms and effects of the dominance of the state on the public communications system during the de Gaulle presidency.

II My book is divided into three parts, each containing three chapters. Part I deals with the press, Part II with the broadcast media and Part III with de Gaulle’s engagement in the process of public communications. Chapter 1 provides a historical outline of the French press from the overhaul of the Liberation in 1944–45 to the end of the de Gaulle presidency. Section 1.1 examines the press’s regulatory framework, a framework that was established in the aftermath of the Second World War, Section 1.2 is an overview of the key features of the press and the leading newspapers during the de Gaulle presidency and Section 1.3 analyses the impact on the press of two xix

xx Introduction

factors: the start of the presidency in 1958 and the emergence of television as a mass medium during the 1960s. Chapter 2 assesses the opinion the press had of de Gaulle. This is dealt with as a comprehensive content analysis of the French press between 1958 and 1969. From the Parisian and provincial press, 22 daily newspapers (representing approximately 65 per cent of the total circulation of French dailies), the two leading current affairs magazines and the other prominent periodicals were analysed at five key moments of the de Gaulle presidency. The main findings are that the press was not entirely hostile to de Gaulle (contrary to what is commonly claimed), that he lost more press support within the first four years of his presidency than at any time afterwards, and that there was a parallel relationship between press support and voting patterns. Chapter 3 examines the relationship between de Gaulle and the press from the president’s perspective. Section 3.1 reviews his public and private comments on the press. Section 3.2 covers the working relationship between de Gaulle and journalists, the access of correspondents to the president and presidential aides and the role of his press secretary. Section 3.3 analyses the causes of de Gaulle’s intense dislike of the press and his conflictual relationship with journalists. Part II deals with the broadcast media. Chapter 4 provides a summary of the development of the broadcasting media in the 1940s and 1950s (Section 4.1) and an overview of the relationship between the government and the national broadcaster, RTF (Radiodiffusion-télévision française) during the Fourth Republic (Section 4.2). Chapter 5 focuses on the turbulent history of the state broadcaster during the 1960s. Section 5.1 documents the two major administrative reforms of 1959 and 1964 and expands on related issues, such as the crippling labour relations that existed at the national broadcaster and the civic unrest that went on during this period. Section 5.2 gives an account of the explosive affair of La Caméra explore le temps. Section 5.3 examines the political struggles of the national broadcaster that took place between 1965 and 1968. Section 5.4 looks at the crisis of May 1968 at the offices of the national broadcaster when staff staged the longest strike of the crisis. Chapter 6 examines the way in which the Gaullist regime controlled the national broadcaster and how this control influenced political coverage on television. Section 6.1 documents the methods employed by the government to keep the Office de radiodiffusiontélévision française (ORTF) under control. Section 6.2 demonstrates

Introduction xxi

that political control heavily influenced news coverage and that propaganda requirements interfered both with news values and journalistic criteria of story suitability. Section 6.3 shows that access to the national broadcaster was restricted for the opposition and for civil society leaders, both outside and during electoral campaigns. Sections 6.4 and 6.5 argue that in fact political control forced the national broadcaster to operate as a state television and that a distinction be made between state and public broadcasters. Part III concentrates on the involvement of de Gaulle himself in the process of public communications. Chapter 7 details de Gaulle’s communications strategy. Section 7.1 examines the broadcast addresses, Section 7.2 the press conferences and Section 7.3 de Gaulle’s campaign for the 1965 presidential election. Section 7.4 explains the origins and factors that underlie de Gaulle’s communications strategy: Section 7.4.1 argues that de Gaulle’s wartime experience accounts for his appreciation of the importance of broadcasting media for political leadership. Section 7.4.2 claims that several themes in de Gaulle’s inter-war writings on military strategy prefigure his broadcast communication style, notably his notion of action of presence. Section 7.4.3 holds that de Gaulle used the broadcasting media either to reinforce his charisma (charisma-reinforcing actions) or to make demands on the electorate by relying on his charisma (charisma-spending actions). Section 7.4.4 analyses the impact of the creation of the presidency in 1958 on the French public communications system. Section 7.4.5 singles out social scientist Gustave Le Bon as a major influence on de Gaulle’s communications strategy. Chapter 8 deconstructs de Gaulle’s broadcasting policy into four elements. The first is institutional and refers to the statist character of his policy (Section 8.1). The second is political, the regime using the broadcasting media as an instrument of government (Section 8.2). The third element is socio-ideological, as the Gaullists attempted to use television to reinforce national identity and social cohesion (Section 8.3). The fourth is national, the state broadcaster being entrusted with an official character and a mission to represent France abroad (Section 8.4). Chapter 9 contextualizes de Gaulle’s handling of public communications by comparing him with past and contemporary political leaders. Section 9.1 argues that there are similarities in the ways Richelieu, Napoléon and de Gaulle have handled public communications and that they stem from the continuity of the political project they have pursued. Section 9.2 compares the relationship of

xxii Introduction

de Gaulle, and the four American presidents who were his contemporaries (Eisenhower, Kennedy, Johnson and Nixon), with the media. The comparison focuses on presidential press conferences and presidential use of television.

III A major difficulty when writing about de Gaulle stems from the dichotomy of views about him. On the one hand, de Gaulle has become a cult figure, sanctified by half-a-century of myth-building and a substantial hagiography that grants him exceptional merits, powers and virtues. Most relevant to this volume is that hagiographers depict de Gaulle as standing above and beyond the political fray, an image that is misconstrued. On the other hand, a large amount of the literature is extremely critical of de Gaulle for no other reason than ideological divergences. Three steps were taken to overcome this dichotomy: interpretation, contextualization and comparison. Firstly, my research is embedded in the hermeneutic tradition of sociology that sets the understanding and interpretation of the subject-matter as the primary tasks for the social scientist. This implies that my research is geared towards the comprehension and explanation of its subject and that the operating concepts are selected for their heuristic qualities. It does not guarantee that concepts are value-free, but that the pre-conditions exist for an analysis as axiologically neutral as possible. Secondly, this book contextualizes the de Gaulle presidency in French contemporary political history. The overview of the press and the broadcasting media during the Fourth Republic allows us to distinguish where the Gaullist administration was innovative and where it reproduced well-established political patterns. Finally, this book compares de Gaulle’s engagement in the process of public communications with that of previous French leaders and contemporary American presidents. The comparison broadens the field of knowledge and opens up the possibility for a more objective assessment of de Gaulle’s performance in the public sphere. This study uses both primary and secondary sources. Primary sources include daily newspapers, weeklies and magazines, periodicals from the trade press, audiovisual archives, parliamentary debates, official reports and interviews. Translations, unless otherwise indicated, are the author’s own.

Part I The Press


1 The Press, 1945–69

This chapter overviews the history of the press from the Liberation until the end of the de Gaulle presidency. Section 1.1 examines the foundation of the press’s regulatory framework, a framework that was laid down in the post-war years. The great majority of today’s French newspapers were also launched at the Liberation, replacing titles that were banned by France’s new rulers. Section 1.2 focuses on the press during the de Gaulle presidency. It covers the leading Parisian and provincial newspapers, analyses the relationship between the Paris-based and regional press and examines the patterns of press ownership. Section 1.3 studies the impact on the press of the start of the presidency in 1958 as well as the rise of television as a mass medium during the 1960s.

1.1

The post-Liberation press

In the aftermath of the Second World War the French press went through a more extensive overhaul than in any other European country, including Germany. Post-war leaders made a series of reforms that thoroughly reorganized the country’s press system. They followed three main objectives: the eviction of the Vichy press, the launch of new titles and the creation of a legal framework that would ensure the independence of the press from the unwelcome influence of moneyed interests and politics (Albert, 1989, pp. 17–21). This vast legislative programme began with the press ordinances of 1944 and was followed by laws that continued to be passed well into the 1950s. 3

4 The de Gaulle Presidency and the Media

Firstly, a series of legal acts outlawed titles that had continued publication during the German occupation.1 Following ordinances adopted in June and September 1944, titles were suspended, printing plants were confiscated and journalists and newspaper proprietors arrested and prosecuted (Bellanger et al., 1975, pp. 194–6). Secondly, laws were passed over the following years to legalize the building of a new press on the remains of the Vichy one. The first law came in May 1946 and triggered a three-phase programme. The initial phase involved the transfer of the confiscated estates of the incriminated newspapers (including buildings and printing plants) to the government. The government then decreed the devolution of these estates to a public company, the Société nationale des entreprises de presse (SNEP). The SNEP was in charge of managing these estates and organizing their distribution to new companies, something it began to do in the mid-1950s. The third phase was the handing over of the estates to companies authorized by the government (Bellanger et al., 1975, pp. 201–8). Short of nationalizing the print media (an attempt to do this was aborted in the early 1950s), a law passed in May 1946 nevertheless set in motion a mechanism of expropriation that was to encounter difficulties in its implementation. There followed years of legal wrangling. The most contentious cases dragged on until 1954, and were only settled after lengthy discussions with the press commission and the adoption of a new law in August of the same year. Thirdly, the aim of political leaders was to create a new legal framework for the press. They recalled the endemic corruption that had afflicted newspapers during the Third Republic. From the 1880s until the outbreak of the Second World War, newspapers accepted – and in many cases sought to obtain – bribes from financial institutions, political parties, ministries and foreign governments (see Section 3.3). The post-war government wished to put an end to this venality together with the influence of moneyed interests on the press. Thus, in 1944, the press commission of the Resistance Council examined the legal framework that would offer the best guarantees against ‘the corruption of newspapers and the influence of capitalism on the newspaper press’ (in Bellanger et al., 1975, p. 194; see also Martin, 1997, pp. 284–7). Two series of legal provisions form the backbone of the battle against the legal and illegal influence of money on the press. Firstly,

The Press, 1945–69 5

the status of press companies was thoroughly reformed and stringent rules were set up to limit the influence of big business on the press. A decree adopted in August 1944 established rules ensuring the maximum transparency of newspapers’ finances. Legislation in the ensuing years multiplied the barriers to press monopolization. No press concern was allowed to possess more than one daily newspaper and vertical integration was prohibited. In addition, financing from commercial companies and foreign corporations alike was forbidden (Charon, 1991, p. 55). Market forces were also prevented from playing a role in the press through strict regulation of the two main sources of newspaper revenues: sales and advertising. Cover prices were fixed by the government and newspapers had to announce their advertising rates six months in advance (Bellanger et al., 1975, pp. 217–18). The second series of decrees aimed at restructuring the whole press field. Public authorities chose to increase state intervention in newspapers in order to release the pressure from market mechanisms. The government too intervened, either by itself setting up companies or by taking control of key sectors of the press industry, thus progressively immersing the press in an increasingly rigid structure as outlined below. Agence France-Presse (AFP) The most prominent of these state companies was the news agency Agence France-Presse (AFP). Founded in 1944 by journalists (all exmembers of the Resistance movement), the AFP was the successor of pre-war press agency, Havas, and Vichy’s Office français d’information (OFI). The AFP was originally planned to be a cooperative organization, but was placed under state control by the press decrees passed by de Gaulle’s government in September 1944. For 12 years it struggled to become an independent news agency and its lack of credibility on the international stage forced the French authorities to grant it more independence with a new statute in January 1957 (Huteau and Ullmann, 1992, pp. 53–8). Newspaper distribution In 1947, the newspaper proprietors’ union, the Fédération nationale de la presse française (FNPF), successfully lobbied against a bill aimed at establishing the monopoly of a state company in the distri-


bution sector. A new law led to the creation of a commercial company, the Nouvelles messageries de la presse parisienne (NMPP). Its ownership was split between cooperative societies and a subsidiary of Hachette, the company that had held the distribution monopoly before the war. Like its predecessor, the NMPP possessed a quasi-monopoly in distribution. The running of this industrial juggernaut involved the state through its representatives in the distribution industry governing body, the Superior Council of Press Distributors. Newsprint distribution In the war’s aftermath, because of a shortage of supplies of pulp and paper, newsprint distribution was taken over by the Ministry of Information. In 1947, the FNPF, wary of state dominance, negotiated for the launch of the Société professionnelle des papiers de presse (SPPP). The SPPP’s agenda was wide-ranging, covering the purchase, import and distribution of newsprint. Albeit managed by professional unions, the SPPP was placed under the control of two powerful commissioners appointed by the state and granted with vetoing powers. The government also controlled the budget of the SPPP. In 1954, the SPPP was still in charge of 70 per cent of the total supply of newsprint in France (Charon, 1991, pp. 63–5). Advertising In the post-war years, the state took over Havas’s monopoly in the trading of newspaper advertising space. During the Third Republic, Havas had built two quasi-monopolistic positions: as a news agency and as a trader in advertising space. While the news side of the business was transferred to the AFP, the advertising business continued to operate with the Havas name. In 1945, the state seized 67 per cent of its shares and in 1951 increased its interest to 80 per cent. Havas, controlling as it did a key resource for newspapers, played a pivotal role in the economy of the print media and was a ‘powerful instrument of influence on the newspaper press’ (Bellanger et al., 1975, p. 246). State aid State intervention also took the shape of financial aid and subsidies became part of the concerted effort to set the press free from the


world of finance and industry. In the mid-1940s, the first measures taken in favour of the press consisted of indirect subsidies via a series of decrees granting several tax concessions to newspapers, including tax rebates. In addition, there was progressive development of a system of direct financial assistance. In 1948, an edict allowed newspapers to pay only 4 per cent of the postal tariff. In 1958, they were granted a 50 per cent reduction on telephone charges. State funds were allocated to reimburse both the national railways company for the transportation of newspapers and the national post office for telephone and telegraphic charges. Altogether, aid to the press cost the state 30 billion FFr. by 1957, a figure that remained stable for some years (Santini, 1990; La Correspondance de la presse, 12 March 1966, pp. 13–14). Industrial relations French newspapers, however, were not helped by the conflicting industrial relations that prevailed throughout the industry from the Liberation onwards. The majority of press workers were members of the print section of the Communist-led Confédération générale du travail (CGT), known as the ‘Livre CGT’, the most militant and bestorganized branch of the CGT. It possessed a considerable amount of power in the industry, notably that of having full control over the training and contracting of press workers. As soon as the war ended the CGT pressed for further concessions from press proprietors. Even though they accepted demands to hire numbers of workers well above their needs and agreed to abovestandard financial packages, in 1945, strikes broke out immediately. Two years later a 31-day conflict stopped the printing of all Parisian dailies. This incident was to affect the finances of newspapers for several years and, in some cases, irremediably. In the late 1940s and early 1950s numerous strikes broke out that were engineered for political motives. Tensions reached a climax in 1951 when the press workers of L’Humanité asked their colleagues in other plants not to print government communiqués relating to a strike in the transport sector (Bellanger et al., 1975, pp. 415–18; Charon, 1991, pp. 69–74).2 Conclusion This regulatory framework and bureaucratic structure gave the state a central role to play in the press field. In addition to imposing


monopolies in key areas of the newspaper industry, the government restricted market mechanisms and controlled newspapers’ key resources. The result of this system denied newspapers much freedom since they had to manoeuvre in a tightly regulated environment dominated by state-run companies. The centralized and bureaucratic system was also riddled with deficiencies, something which had a paralysing effect on the press. One of its side-effects was that newspapers had difficulty generating enough income and many of them became aid-dependent. Until the 1970s state subsidies represented between 15 and 20 per cent of the total turnover of the press industry – the highest ratio in Europe (Albert, 1983, p. 57). Furthermore, this system privileged the status quo. No provisions were made to help the launch of new titles and several measures, notably the preferential mailing charge, mostly benefited the wealthiest and best-established papers. The system also discouraged risk-taking by press proprietors, not least because any sign of profit was sanctioned by a reduction in subsidies. This type of environment multiplied the disincentives against entrepreneurship and seriously affected the long-term performance of the French press (Vebret, 1984; Toussaint Desmoulins, 1987).

1.2

The press during the de Gaulle presidency

The Gaullist government, on the other hand, did not legislate much on press matters and the regulatory framework set in the post-war years survived the de Gaulle presidency almost untouched. The distribution network and the monopoly of the NMPP, the state aid and subsidies, the dominance of the SPPP in newsprint supplies, and the state control over Havas, all remained intact. This continuity is reflected by statistics on the French press that show consistency in terms of titles and sales throughout the 1950s and 1960s (Table 1.1). The number of Parisian dailies, from a peak of 28 in 1946, rapidly declined until stabilizing at an average of 13 in the mid-1950s. This figure remained stable during the de Gaulle years. The most noticeable closure during the 1960s was that of Libération (see below). In addition, two major attempts to launch new daily newspapers failed. The first bid was from Robert Hersant, the press proprietor, and the second from Marcel Dassault, the defence industrialist,


Table 1.1 Number of daily newspapers and print-run figures in Paris and the Provinces (in 1000s) Year

Number of titles Paris

Print-run Paris

Number of titles Provinces

Print-run Provinces

Print-run total

1945 1946 1947 1948 1949

26 28 19 18 16

4 606 5 959 4 702 4 450 3 792

153 175 161 142 139

7 532 9 165 8 165 7 859 7 417

12 138 15 124 12 867 12 309 11 209

1950 1951 1952 1953 1954 1955 1956 1957 1958 1959

16 15 14 12 12 13 14 13 13 13

3 678 3 607 3 412 3 514 3 618 3 779 4 441 4 226 4 373 3 980

126 122 117 116 116 116 111 110 110 103

7 256 6 634 6 188 6 458 6 559 6 823 6 958 7 254 7 294 6 930

10 934 10 241 9 600 9 972 10 177 10 602 11 399 11 480 11 667 10 910

1960 1961 1962 1963 1964 1965 1966 1967 1968 1969

13 13 13 14 14 13 14 12 13 13

4 185 4 239 4 207 4 121 4 107 4 211 4 391 4 624 5 034 4 596

98 96 96 94 93 92 91 86 85 81

7 170 7 087 7 198 7 434 7 617 7 857 7 831 8 005 8 039 7 572

11 355 11 326 11 405 11 555 11 724 12 068 12 222 12 629 13 073 12 168

1970 1971

13 12

4 278 4 244

81 81

7 587 7 750

11 865 11 994

Source:

Service Juridique et Technique de l’Information, 1996, p. 102.

whose 24 Heures, launched in October 1965, closed a year later following massive losses. In terms of provincial dailies, 1946 was a record year, with 175 titles. After that date, their number dropped as a result of closures, mergers and acquisitions. Most of them were launched in the wake of the Liberation and did not have the resources to establish decent


news services. During the 11 years of the de Gaulle presidency, their decline was steep, falling from 110 in 1958 to 81 in 1969, a drop of 36 per cent. During these same 11 years the print-run of Parisian titles increased by 9.8 per cent and that of provincial titles by 7.2 per cent.3 These moderate increases offset earlier losses and in 1966 the print-run figures had only just recovered their 1945 level. Newspaper circulation in France did not keep pace with the 12.3 per cent growth in population, which grew from 44.8 million in 1958 to 50.3 million inhabitants in 1969 (INSEE, 1990, p. 26). Daily newspaper consumption declined through the 1960s and the French rate was amongst the lowest of the developed nations. In 1960, 252 copies of newspapers per 1000 inhabitants were sold in France, against 326 in the United States and 514 in Britain. The ratios were similar at the end of the decade with 238 copies per 1000 inhabitants in France, against 302 in United States and 463 in Britain (Albert, 1983, p. 26). 1.2.1

The Paris-based press

In the 1960s, the Paris-based press included 11 titles, seven of them launched at the time of the Liberation. The titles are listed in Table 1.2 and described below. Table 1.2

Circulation of Paris-based daily newspapers (in 1000s) 1958

L’Aurore Combat La Croix Le Figaro France-Soir L’Humanité Libération Le Monde Paris-Jour Paris-Presse Le Parisien Libéré

369 39 92 392 1128 169 1156 164 – 98 764

1960 344 34 89 384 1 116 143 98 166 97 89 758

1962 373 32 100 392 1 046 149 867 182 146 90 773

1964 344 30 110 399 995 139 68 200 185 65 743

1966

1968

329 325 118 420 1049 155 – 251 2088 59 774

4

318 35 121 424 881 161 – 355 257 549 751

1970 301 26 133 430 869 145 – 360 246 4910 732

Sources: Derieux and Texier, 1974, pp. 130–1; L’Humanité: Presse-Actualité, February 1966, p. 30, March 1971, p. 42; Paris-Jour: Presse-Actualité, February 1966, p. 30, April–May 1970, p. 44, March 1971, p. 42; Paris-Presse: Presse-Actualité, February 1966, p. 31, March 1971, p. 42; Libération: La Correspondance de la presse, 27 November 1964.

The Press, 1945–69 11

L’Aurore L’Aurore was launched as a clandestine sheet in 1942 and was first sold openly in Paris in September 1944. In the 1960s, it was very much an ‘opinion’ paper and had strong political views. Its founder, Robert Lazurick, claimed socialist credentials but the paper was closer to the centre-right. Once Algeria gained independence in 1962, L’Aurore became more radical and flirted with the extreme right-wing (Le Goff, 1967b). Combat Combat was published covertly by the Resistance in Lyon in 1941. Printed in Paris at the Liberation, it became a newspaper written by intellectuals for intellectuals. It focused on current affairs and culture and became renowned for its leading articles and opinion columns, often signed by illustrious literary figures. In the immediate post-war years, under the editorship of Albert Camus, Georges Altschuler, Raymond Aron, Georges Bernanos, Jean-Paul Sartre and André Malraux were among those who contributed pieces to the newspaper. Ideological dissension in the editorial team and financial difficulties rapidly marred the intelligentsia’s daily. Once Camus left Combat in June 1947, Henry Smadja, the new financial backer, progressively affirmed his ascendancy on the newspaper and managed to pull it through the 1960s and 1970s. However, its existence had become precarious and it never regained the aura it had in the immediate post-war years (Ajchenbaum, 1994). La Croix La Croix, founded in 1883, and still in publication, was the paper of the Catholic Church. It was published almost throughout the Second World War, being interrupted only in June 1944. This suspension occurred several years after the date set by the 1944 ordinance that forbade newspapers published after 26 November 1942 to reappear at the Liberation. Nonetheless, de Gaulle pronounced a nihil obstat in favour of La Croix, which resumed publication on 1 February 1945. One of the reasons for de Gaulle’s benevolence was that several staff members had been engaged in the Resistance and received cross-partisan support after the war. In addition, de Gaulle was a devout Catholic and was sympathetic to the re-establishment in France of a major Catholic publication.


Le Figaro Le Figaro was first published in Paris in November 1866. Witty and entertaining, it gained a reputation during the Third Republic for its literary and theatre reviews. The famous literary names to contribute to its columns included Guy de Maupassant and Mallarmé. At the close of the nineteenth century it was one of the few established Parisian newspapers convinced of Captain Dreyfus’s innocence (Boussel, 1960; Ponty, 1974). Le Figaro went through a difficult period during the inter-war years because of an ownership that was both inexperienced and somewhat whimsical. It was suspended early enough by the Vichy government to be allowed to resume publication in 1944. Led by Pierre Brisson until his death in 1964, it entered the de Gaulle era as a quality conservative newspaper (Brisson, 1959). France-Soir When it was launched in 1944, France-Soir tried to emulate the French press’s only commercial success of the inter-war era, ParisSoir. The post-war version was not as successful as its predecessor. It never sold more than 1.1 million copies, sales figures which it achieved during its peak period between 1956 and 1966 (Courrière, 1995, pp. 422–65). France-Soir was a popular newspaper that somehow managed to misunderstand popular journalism. The news stories were short and clearly written, but the news angles were too similar to that of highbrow newspapers. The news mix was also ill-adapted to a popular readership and there were too many articles about the government and the economy. Even although France-Soir rarely committed itself to explicit political opinions, it remained too governmental in tone (see also Chapter 2). Pierre Lazareff, its editor, courted the favours of the Socialists during the Fourth Republic and of the Gaullists during the Fifth Republic. France-Soir, then, was too subservient to the regime in power and never published anything remotely critical against the government of the day. It read almost like an official newspaper and the lack of any cutting edge was all too apparent. L’Humanité Founded in April 1904 as the mouthpiece of the French Socialist Party, the SFIO, Jean Jaurès, the party leader, was L’Humanité’s first

The Press, 1945–69 13

political editor. When the party split at the Tours Conference in 1920 the newspaper followed the majority and became the voice of the newly founded French Communist Party (PCF). This opened up a period of crisis for the paper, marked by a strained financial situation and a substantial drop in circulation. The primary causes were poor management and the radicalization of the PCF. To compound its difficulties, copies of L’Humanité were regularly seized and members of its staff repeatedly imprisoned during the 1920s. The 1930s witnessed a remarkable change of fortune for the paper. Reorganized on a more professional basis, its circulation soared and reached 349 000 daily copies in 1939. It had become France’s fourth best-selling daily when it was banned by the government in August 1939 following the Soviet–German pact (Milza, 1973). L’Humanité published 317 clandestine issues during the war and resurfaced in August 1944. From the Liberation onwards, the sales were in constant decline, dropping from 400 000 in 1946 to 216 000 in 1958. The financial difficulties of the paper were aggravated by the repeated seizures of the journal during the colonial wars in South-East Asia and Algeria (Echevin, 1959; Copin, 1967). Le Populaire and La Nation There were two other official party publications amongst Parisian newspapers, none of them with a sizeable readership. Le Populaire was the mouthpiece of the Socialist Party (SFIO), and it confined itself to political commentaries and opinions. Published daily when finances permitted (otherwise as tri-weekly), its circulation never passed 10 000. La Nation was launched by the Gaullist party – the UNR – in March 1962. Ambitiously designed to become a mass circulation newspaper, it never sold more than 5000 copies and survived as an eight-page party sheet thanks to generous subsidies whose origins remain mysterious (Duquesne, 1963). Libération Libération was founded during the Second World War and took its name from a prestigious Resistance network. After the conflict, it followed a Communist agenda while retaining its independence from the political bureau of the PCF. It remained faithful to the


radical ideals of the Liberation longer than most newspapers. Hard pressed for funds, its hardship was compounded by a dwindling circulation, which dropped from 123 000 daily copies in September 1955 to 68 000 copies in August 1964. It closed down in November 1964 (La Correspondance de la presse, 27 November 1964).

Le Monde There are more books published on Le Monde than on any other French newspaper. In addition to academic books, the literature on Le Monde includes memoirs and commemorative booklets.11 The French appreciate cultural institutions and Le Monde is the only newspaper that can pretend to such a status in France. At the Liberation, few post-war leaders wished to see the Third Republic’s most prominent daily, Le Temps, re-emerge. It was tainted by corruption (see Section 3.3). It is commonly acknowledged that the date set by the 1944 Ordinance (forbidding newspapers that continued publication in the free zone after 26 November 1942 to reappear at the Liberation) had has been chosen to prevent Le Temps resurfacing after the war: it had ceased publication on 29 November 1942. Thus, in the aftermath of the war, de Gaulle expressed the need for a new prestigious newspaper. Pierre-Henri Teitgen, Minister of Information from September 1944 to May 1945, recollects the French leader urging on him: You have to re-launch Le Temps, not only for the sake of France, but for foreign countries as well. This newspaper was read in embassies and newsrooms across the world. We need it for the outside world. You have suppressed Le Temps, create me another one (in Sainderichin, 1990, p. 16). When Teitgen replied that it could no longer be entitled Le Temps, de Gaulle retorted: ‘Call it Le Monde, then!’ (ibid., p. 16). On that same occasion, de Gaulle specified the configuration of the managing board. He prescribed a leadership composed of a talented journalist not involved in the Collaboration, a Résistant who had to be both Protestant and liberal, and a third member whom he nominated himself: Christian Funck-Brentano. Teitgen and his chief of staff, Gaston Palewski, appointed the Protestant René Courtin and Hubert

The Press, 1945–69 15

Beuve-Méry as first managing editor (ibid., p. 17). Beuve-Méry, a former foreign correspondent of Le Témps, had resigned in October 1938 in protest against his newspaper’s support of the Munich agreements. At the time of his appointment, he was the editor of Temps présent, a Catholic weekly. De Gaulle could only be pleased with this choice, himself a past member of Temps présent’s Friends circle. The first issue of the evening newspaper appeared on 18 December 1944. Under the editorship of Beuve-Méry, Le Monde rapidly established itself as France’s newspaper of record. It possessed the austere look of nineteenth-century newspapers and did not print photographs. It focused on politics and was particularly strong on foreign news, devoting an average of six pages per issue to the topic. Read by high-ranking civil servants and political personnel, Le Monde prided itself for its independence and accuracy of reporting. Beuve-Méry retired on 21 December 1969, Le Monde’s 25th anniversary and six months after de Gaulle’s end of tenure.

Paris-Jour Paris-Jour was France’s most down-market newspaper. Newspaper proprietor Cino del Duca had acquired wealth and expertise launching hugely popular women’s magazines such as Nous Deux, Intimité and Ciné-Révélation. In November 1957, he transformed Franc-Tireur, a paper issued from the Resistance, into Paris-Journal, a popular morning daily. Despite the owner’s experimentation with colour, and the inclusion of comic strips and competitions, the sales never exceeded 105 000 copies daily. In the late 1950s the paper was running at a loss and del Duca re-launched it in a tabloid format with a new title, Paris-Jour. In order to pre-empt any further attempt by de Gaulle’s second Minister of Information, Jacques Soustelle, to take control of Paris-Journal, del Duca appointed Pierre de Gaulle, sibling of the president, to a directorship of his publishing company. Although Paris-Jour reached sales of a quarter of a million in the late 1960s, this was well below the point of return-on-investment. Losing 6 to 10 million FFr. every year, Paris-Jour was discontinued by del Duca’s widow in February 1972 (Le Goff, 1967a). It was a thoroughly depoliticized newspaper, treating politics as lightly as circumstances allowed.


Paris-Presse Paris-Presse was one of the few commercial ventures of the post-war years. It was launched on 1 November 1944 by experienced journalists and its circulation peaked around half-a-million daily copies in 1946. It quickly faltered because of the strong competition from France-Soir. By 1948, the newspaper was in serious financial difficulties and was bought by Hachette, the press group that controlled its main rival (Courrière, 1995, pp. 436–8, 472, 488–9). In 1951 the new management tried to revive Paris-Presse by transforming it into a regional daily for the capital, but sales continued to decline and, in June 1965, Hachette was forced to incorporate ParisPresse into France-Soir. It was published until 1970 with four pages dedicated to the original paper, the rest of the material coming from France-Soir (Derieux and Texier, 1974, p. 76). Le Parisien Libéré Le Parisien Libéré was first published in August 1944. A successful paper during the Fourth Republic, it reached 764 000 daily copies in 1958, the second highest figure among Paris-based dailies. Emilien Amaury, the owner and managing director, designed the newspaper as a regional daily for the Greater Paris market. Le Parisien Libéré focused on local and practical information and devoted only 6.5 per cent of its news space to politics (Hauttecoeur, 1963). 1.2.2

The provincial press

A distinct feature of the post-war years was the strength of the provincial press. Between 1959 and 1969, the sales of regional dailies were 57 per cent higher than those of Parisian newspapers (respectively 4.3 million copies daily on average against 7.5 million copies) (Service Juridique et Technique de l’Information, 1996, p. 102). Regional newspapers were firmly established. The concentration of titles began soon after the Liberation and often resulted in one dominant newspaper in each region. In most cases alliances and mutual agreements let newspapers prosper in their fiefdoms and the few attempts to dislodge one of them from its stronghold failed. In the 1960s, approximately 15 provincial centres had a newspaper of their own and 11 had at least two independent titles, including the cities of Lille, Bordeaux and Marseille. In none of these 11 cities did

The Press, 1945–69 17

the circulation of the second newspaper reach half that of the dominant title (Voyenne, 1962, p. 54; Derieux and Texier, 1974, p. 143; Bellanger et al., 1976, pp. 270–1). In the 1960s, there were 22 provincial titles with a circulation of more than 100 000 copies, among which 11 had a circulation near or above 200 000 copies (Table 1.3). The five main French regional newspapers in the 1960s are outlined below. Ouest-France was based in Rennes (Brittany) and had the third largest circulation of the country. Its average circulation of 586 800 daily copies in the 1960s was exceeded only by France-Soir and Le Parisien Libéré. Its 44 daily editions were distributed in 12 departments spread in three regions of western France. Le Progrès was a liberal paper founded in Lyon in 1859 with an average circulation of 438 000 during the 1960s. Its 35 editions spread over 12 departments. Le Dauphiné libéré was founded by a Resistance network in 1945 and was based in Grenoble, south-east of Lyon. With an average circulation of 370 000 copies in the 1960s, the sales of its 40-plus editions spread over 11 departments. For nine years, it waged a war against Le Progrès, trying to set foot in Lyon. An agreement was signed in 1966 that lead to the merger of the two controlling companies the following year. La Voix du Nord, based in Lille, was also a Resistance paper of the Second World War. Its circulation averaged 370 000 copies in the 1960s, a figure that established it as far and away the leading title in northern France. Sud-Ouest was launched in Bordeaux at the Liberation. It progressively established itself as the leading force in the south-west to reach an average circulation of 341 000 daily copies during the 1960s.

1.2.3

Defining a national press

Considering the strength of the French provincial press, the question arises as to whether the sales of Paris-based dailies were sufficiently dispersed to qualify these papers as national newspapers. Most Paris-based newspapers only sold between one-quarter and one-third of their copies in the provinces, La Croix being the only one whose provincial circulation exceeded its Parisian sale (Table 1.4).


Table 1.3 Circulation of the 11 leading provincial daily newspapers (in 1000s) 1958

1960

1962

1964

1966

1968

1970

Le Dauphiné Libéré, Grenoble

324

333

351

385

403

380

379

La Dépêche Du Midi, Toulouse

252

249

260

274

286

271

274

L’Est Républicain, Nancy

226

225

235

238

251

240

246

La Montagne, ClermontFerrand

142

149

165

177

217

246

242

Nice-Matin

125

135

157

176

198

207

219

La Nouvelle République Tours

236

238

253

267

283

265

269

Ouest-France, Rennes

521

535

560

588

632

618

623

Le Progrès, Lyon

32412

355

421

438

447

445

450

Le Républicain Lorrain, Metz

163

167

198

210

224

217

221

30513

302

32614

33715

359

370

360

306

337

368

374

390

380

387

Sud-Ouest, Bordeaux La Voix Du Nord, Lille

Sources: Derieux and Texier, 1974, pp. 141–240; La Montagne, 1970: Presse-Actualité, March 1970, p. 44; Le Progrès, 1960, 1966, 1968, 1970: Presse-Actualité, April–March 1971, p. 47; Sud-Ouest: Presse-Actualité, April–May 1970, p. 48, March 1971, p. 46.

Even though the sales of Paris-based dailies were concentrated in the capital, their national influence was of greater significance than their distribution patterns suggest. Several of them were either the mouthpiece of a nationwide political movement or echoed political

The Press, 1945–69 19

Table 1.4 Geographical distribution of the sale of Paris-based daily newspapers in 1970 (percentages) Titles

Greater Paris

Province

Foreign countries

Combat Le Parisien Libéré L’Aurore Paris-Jour France-Soir Le Figaro L’Humanité Le Monde La Croix

87 87 73.5 71 64 63 48 45.5 25

12 12.5 25 28 31 31 38 37.5 73

1 0.5 1.5 1 5 6 14 17 2

Source:

Presse-Actualité, December 1971, p. 17.

sensibilities that were prevalent across the country. This was the case of the Catholic La Croix, the Communist L’Humanité and the conservative-leaning Le Figaro. Paris-based newspapers, Le Monde in particular, were also required reading for local decision-makers and opinion-leaders. Finally, they possessed unparalleled prestige. The views of the most renowned columnists, including Raymond Aron (Le Figaro), Maurice Duverger and Hubert Beuve-Méry (Le Monde), to mention only three, had nationwide echoes. Their views were frequently cited in the leading articles and press reviews of provincial newspapers. 1.2.4

Patterns of press ownership

The French press was weakly concentrated in terms of ownership. Paris-based and regional newspapers alike were either published independently or were controlled by press groups that might possess several periodicals but rarely more than one daily newspaper of significance. Hachette – a press distribution giant also involved in advertising and publishing – was France’s biggest press conglomerate. It controlled two dailies, France-Soir and the declining Paris-Presse, two Sundays, France-Dimanche and Le Journal du Dimanche, and approximately 20 magazines, among them Confidences, Femmes d’Aujourd’hui and Historia.


France’s second-ranking press group was headed by Jean Prouvost and Ferdinand Béguin. Prouvost was a talented press proprietor and controlled some of France’s most successful magazines, including Paris-Match (boosting a weekly circulation that oscillated between 1.5 and 2 million copies in the 1960s), Marie-Claire and Télé 7 Jours. The latter was the leader in the television magazine market with sales in excess of 2 million in 1969. The group was also the majority shareholder of Le Figaro, but had no control over editorial coverage. The press conglomerate managed by Emilien Amaury had controlling interests in Le Parisien Libéré, L’Equipe (a sports daily), two local dailies and six magazines. The Catholic press group behind La Croix published two weeklies, two monthlies and four magazines. Robert Hersant controlled two regional papers (Centre-Presse and NordMatin) and six local papers. Finally, the owner of Paris-Jour, Cino Del Duca, controlled six magazines (L’Her, 1969).16

1.3 The effects of the presidency and television on the press Two factors compounded the slow decline of the French press during the de Gaulle era: the transition from the parliamentary system of the Fourth Republic to the presidential regime of the Fifth Republic17 and the advent of television as a mass medium. During the Fourth Republic, due to their affinity with the regime’s most powerful political institution, the National Assembly, newspapers were at the centre of the political arena. Many deputies had close links with journalists and editors, either because they had been journalists themselves or had privileged access to newspapers sympathetic to their views. In addition, the Paris-based press included a fair amount of papers with a strong commitment to political opinions, such as Combat, L’Aurore, and Libération, not to mention the various party publications. These newspapers of divergent opinions were ideally suited to echo the jousts and contests taking place in Parliament and to publicize parliamentary life in all its partisanship and diversity. The press is also a medium naturally suited to cover parliamentary assemblies, as newspapers are a convenient means to reproduce politicians’ speeches and lengthy parliamentary proceedings.

The Press, 1945–69 21

Finally, the press took advantage of the sharing of power between coalition parties. The Cabinet was known to leak and its members talked to reporters without much regard for their colleagues. Cabinet members belonged to rival political parties and the Head of Cabinet had little authority over them. De Gaulle’s arrival and the presidentialization of the French political system curtailed the role of the press as a central political institution. The rise of the presidency and the correlative decrease of Parliament’s influence meant that the close relationship between deputies and newspaper correspondents lost some of its relevance. At Cabinet level, the risk of leaks was reduced by the fact that de Gaulle had little tolerance for dissent among ministers: in any case, he took some major decisions without even informing them. In addition, in 1963, the Service de liaison interministérielle pour l’information was founded to coordinate governmental communications (see Chapter 6). The predicament of the press was exacerbated by de Gaulle’s attitude towards journalists. The president kept reporters at bay and had neither acquaintances nor confidants in the profession (see Chapter 3). He purposefully used the broadcast media to get around journalists and communicate directly with the public. He introduced live broadcast coverage for his press conferences and journalists learnt of their content at the same time as the television audience (see Chapter 7). The press was also affected by the emergence, in the 1960s, of television as a mass medium. The percentage of households owning a television set climbed from 6.1 per cent in 1957 to 70.4 per cent in 1970 (see Appendix 4). The first election in which television played a major role was the 1965 presidential race. Candidates were given two hours of airtime on radio and television for each electoral round and their political broadcasts became one of the focal points of the campaign. During the election, observers speculated endlessly about the impact of television on the electoral process (an impact generally seen as considerable).18 Journalists began to assess candidates’ television performances and the press published the first direct comments on those performances as well as stories on the candidates’ electioneering techniques (see Chapter 2).


Television also became the nation’s major news provider, a status the press had fought to keep since the advent of radio (Martin, 1997, pp. 193–6). The evening news bulletin, scheduled at the peak viewing time of 8 pm, was the day’s main broadcast. In a space of a decade, the press was confronted with many changes, most of them unfavourable and as a result it did not play as central a role in the political field during the de Gaulle era as it had done during the Fourth Republic.

2 Press Opinion during the de Gaulle Presidency

This chapter seeks to offer a comprehensive view of the treatment of de Gaulle by the French press during his presidency. Section 2.1 presents the results of the content analysis of the Paris-based newspapers and Section 2.2 proceeds to do the same with the leading provincial newspapers. Section 2.3 focuses on two prominent current affairs magazines, Le Nouvel Observateur and L’Express. Section 2.4 examines other leading periodicals and Section 2.5 looks at monthly and bimonthly reviews that stand at the crossroads between academia and journalism. Although several studies have examined the treatment of de Gaulle by French and foreign newspapers,1 none of them offers an encompassing view of press opinion during his presidency. The relevance of this issue stems from the controversy that arose in the 1960s about the strength of support de Gaulle received from the press. The French leader, like many Gaullists, was utterly convinced that the whole press was turned against him (see Section 3.1) and used this argument to justify his control over radio and television (see Section 5.1).2 In addition, there is the matter of when de Gaulle began to lose the support of the press. It is often assumed that the national crisis of May 1968 constituted a deadly blow to the French leader, but could a rupture between president and press have occurred earlier? The content analysis covers 11 Parisian titles and 11 regional newspapers. These 22 newspapers represent approximately 65 per cent of the total daily circulation in the 1960s. 23


I have included all the Paris-based papers except L’Equipe, a sports daily, Les Echos, a financial newspaper, and two small party newspapers, the Socialist Le Populaire and the Gaullist La Nation. For the provincial papers, only dailies with a circulation higher than 200 000 copies between 1965 and 1969 are taken into account.3 These newspapers were examined during five of the most defining moments of the de Gaulle presidency: three referenda (out of a total of five), one legislative election (out a total of four), and the 1965 presidential election.4 The three referenda are as follows: 1. First referendum, 28 September 1958: 79.35 per cent of voters approved the constitution of the Fifth Republic. 2. Fourth referendum, 28 October 1962: 61.7 per cent of the electorate approved the modification of the constitution introducing the election of the president by universal suffrage. 3. Fifth referendum, 27 April 1969: 53.7 per cent of the electorate rejected the referendum that included a project of regionalization and a reform of the Senate.5 The legislative elections of March 1967 were selected because of the exceptional involvement of de Gaulle in the campaign.6 The Gaullists escaped with a narrow victory, losing 40 seats in the second round and just managing to retain the majority with 244 deputies. In the great majority of cases, following the qualitative analysis of the news treatment and selection, background commentaries and leading articles up to three weeks before and three days after the events, newspapers’ stances were clearly discernible. When doubt remained, a quantitative content analysis was conducted, monitoring the news selection and the number of column inches devoted to each political party.7

2.1

The Paris-based newspapers

The stances adopted by the 11 Paris-based daily newspapers on the five occasions mentioned above are shown in Table 2.1. The present section provides background commentaries paper by paper. L’Aurore For the first referendum, L’Aurore embarked on a campaign in support of de Gaulle. The newspaper’s leader writer, Robert Bony,

Press Opinion during the de Gaulle Presidency 25

had seen enough of the Fourth Republic and welcomed the return of a strong ruler at the helm of the country. Leading articles were high on rhetoric and polemical content. Bony sneered at the Communists, one of the few parties to be against a yes vote in the referendum (L’Aurore, 27 September 1958). The campaign extended to the news pages, where de Gaulle received exceptionally positive coverage. The political section was filled with material in support of the referendum, such as celebrity endorsements and highly emotive accounts from the Gaullist campaign trail. L’Aurore took a sharp turn against de Gaulle for the October 1962 referendum because it was disillusioned with the man who had made Algeria independent. L’Aurore campaigned against de Gaulle as virulently as it had supported him four years before. During the campaign preceding the first round of the presidential election, L’Aurore was very critical of de Gaulle and supported the centrist candidate, Jean Lecanuet. Its champion did not make it to the second round and the paper then lost interest in the election. It did not endorse any of the remaining candidates, although it showed more antipathy for de Gaulle than for Mitterrand. During the 1967 legislative elections, L’Aurore supported the MRP, the centrist party. For the last referendum in April 1969, it launched a full-scale crusade against de Gaulle. As often with L’Aurore, the distinction between news and opinion was blurred. Combat Combat stood out in favour of de Gaulle for the first referendum. An anonymous editorial on 22 September 1958 argued that the Gaullist regime was valuable for national security purposes at a time when two totalitarian regimes, China and the USSR, were showing hegemonic tendencies (Combat, 22 September 1958). The paper also dispelled fears of authoritarianism, explaining that there was no possible democracy without a minimum of authority (Combat, 26 September 1958). Four years later the stance of the Parisian daily had completely changed. Combat was one of the papers never to forgive de Gaulle for the loss of Algeria and virulently attacked the president during the campaign for the constitutional referendum. A columnist claimed that de Gaulle had evoked the Führerprincip (on the grounds that he had once called himself the ‘guide’ of the nation), as, before

1st referendum, 28/9/1958

4th referendum, 28/10/1962

Presidential election, 1st round, 5/12/1965

Presidential election, 2nd round, 19/12/1965

Legislative elections, 5–12/3/1967


L’Aurore

Campaigning for de Gaulle

Crusading against de Gaulle

Supporting Lecanuet

Opposing de Gaulle

Supporting the MRP (centre-right)


Combat

Biased in favour of de Gaulle


Supporting Lecanuet

Opposing de Gaulle

Supporting the MRP


La Croix


Neutral

Slightly biased in favour of de Gaulle


Neutral

Neutral

Le Figaro

Supporting de Gaulle




Biased in favour of the majority


France-Soir

Strongly biased in favour of de Gaulle




Supporting the majority


l’Humanité



Campaigning for Mitterrand


Campaigning for the leftist opposition


26

Table 2.1 Stances of 11 Paris-based daily newspapers at the 1958, October 1962 and 1969 referenda, the 1965 presidential election and the 1967 legislative elections

(continued) Table 2.1 Stances of 11 Paris-based daily newspapers at the 1958, October 1962 and 1969 referenda, the 1965 presidential election and the 1967 legislative elections 4th referendum, 28/10/1962





Libération



–

–

–

–.

Le Monde


Biased against de Gaulle


Strongly biased in favour of Mitterrand

Slightly biased in favour of the opposition

Strongly biased against de Gaulle

Paris-Jour

–




Strongly biased in favour of the majority


Paris-Presse







Le Parisien Libéré






Supporting de Gaulle 27

1st referendum, 28/9/1958


him, Mussolini, Hitler and Stalin had done (Combat, 1 October 1962). An uninterrupted flow of deprecations equated the Gaullist regime with totalitarianism. Combat also opened wide its columns to de Gaulle’s most bitter opponents, including the socialists Guy Mollet and François Mitterrand. During the campaign preceding the presidential election, most news stories exhibited a critical spin against de Gaulle, finding fault with him for a reason or another. Combat favoured Lecanuet, less for its liking of the candidate himself than for its hatred of de Gaulle. One of Combat’s idiosyncratic ways of fighting the president was to demystify the Gaullist political party by showing it as a party like any other, striving for power and office. With Lecanuet out of the way following the first round, the second presented a dilemma for Combat as neither of the remaining candidates was eligible for its support. It turned out to be less critical of Mitterrand than of de Gaulle. In the week preceding the second round, two political columnists enjoined readers to vote for Mitterrand, against none for de Gaulle, but the reasons given were quite extrinsic to the candidate of the Left (Combat, 13 December 1965). On 17 December, Lecanuet asked his followers not to vote for de Gaulle;8 from that point Combat began to give extensive coverage of Mitterrand’s campaign and eagerly opened its columns to his supporters. For the 1967 legislative elections, Combat supported Lecanuet’s MRP. In April 1969, the newspaper was in a combative mood. Leading articles and political columns piled up the usual charges against the president in every issue. The tone was set by Philippe Tesson, the editor of Combat, who spoke of the opportunity to ‘liquidate’ the Gaullist regime, referring to it as the ‘main adversary’ (Combat, 23 April 1969). Following de Gaulle’s last broadcast address (in which he asked the electorate to keep him in power for three more years), Combat’s huge headline on the front page read: ‘The Beggar’ (Combat, 26–27 April 1969). De Gaulle’s defeat on 27 April put Combat in an exhilarated mood and the paper celebrated de Gaulle’s departure as a liberation (Combat, 28 April 1969). La Croix La Croix supported de Gaulle’s referendum of September 1958. Many high-ranking clerics argued that the secular nature of the con-


stitution and the inclusion of the term laïc [lay] were not sufficient reason to give a no vote at the referendum. This was the last time that the Catholic paper was to take so clear a position and it stepped back during the campaign for the October 1962 referendum. It gave equal access to the supporters and opponents of the referendum, covering both sides fairly, and made graphic displays of its balanced reporting. Neither Church officials nor columnists gave a hint of their private thoughts on the referendum. There were several reasons why Church leaders and La Croix’s editorial staff chose not to express their doubts about the referendum. They were cautious because of acute divisions amongst Catholics on the issue (La Croix, 13 October 1962). La Croix strove to speak for the entire Catholic community, as did other publications such as La France Catholique and La Vie Catholique. In addition, it had launched a subscription campaign and hoped to expand its readership. La Croix took the same cautious approach to the presidential election. It remained extremely informative throughout the campaign and gave generous and equal access to its columns to candidates from all political tendencies. Nonetheless, a slight slant can be detected in favour of de Gaulle. The values that leading articles highlighted were closer to the Gaullist agenda than to that of the Left. The Catholic Church also had a vested interest in one of the election issues since Catholic schools were the recipient of governmental funding. Since the left-wing candidate was on record as planning to confine public funding to state schools, Pierre Limagne, La Croix’s chief leader writer, twice expressed reservations about the Mitterrand candidacy (La Croix, 3 and 17 December 1965). Even so, La Croix strove to remain as objective as possible and took great care not to offend anyone, showing the same awareness as it had in 1962 of the diversity of political opinions amongst Catholics.9 During the 1967 legislative elections, La Croix was ostensibly neutral. The news pages gave priority to the most newsworthy events, something that is not always the case in the French press. Even the Communist Party received fair treatment. Nor did La Croix take up a position for the last referendum in April 1969. It remained informative and kept its columns open to all viewpoints. Leading articles often referred to the floating electorate and pointed to the importance of the undecided voter for the final


result (La Croix, 22 April 1969). Towards the end of the campaign, the paper published a series of letters from ‘confused readers’ who could not make their minds whether La Croix was pro- or antiGaullist (La Croix, 26 April 1969). Le Figaro In September 1958, Le Figaro expressed strong preferences in favour of the referendum. Leader writers and columnists piled up the arguments in its favour, while the opposition were not given the opportunity to express their views. In October 1962, the Parisian daily was less enthusiastic but remained on de Gaulle’s side. Despite judging de Gaulle’s initiative inopportune and a step too far towards personal power, several columnists took position in his favour (Le Figaro, 27 and 28 October 1962). For the managing editor, Pierre Brisson, voting against de Gaulle was not an option because of the divisions within the opposition and the character of some of the opponents – notably the Communists and the extreme right-wing, incorporating terrorists from the Organisation armée secrète (OAS) (Le Figaro, 26 October 1962). For the 1965 presidential race Le Figaro spoke with discordant voices but on the whole remained biased in favour of de Gaulle. One of the paper’s chief columnists, Louis Gabriel-Robinet, defended the president’s achievements and accused his rivals of demagogy (Le Figaro, 1 December 1965). Raymond Aron voiced criticisms about past constitutional changes but did not express misgivings about de Gaulle’s victory (Le Figaro, 2 December 1965). However, André-François Poncet took up a position in favour of Jean Lecanuet (Le Figaro, 3 December 1965). In the last issue of Le Figaro before the first round, Gabriel-Robinet argued that de Gaulle was the safest option for the next seven years, ensuring that Lecanuet should be ready for the presidency (Le Figaro, 4 and 5 December 1965). André Frossard, a prominent columnist, was also favourable to de Gaulle, as were many cartoonists, whose work ridiculed the opposition. It was in Le Figaro that the controversy began about Jean Lecanuet’s final result in the nationwide philosophy exam for teaching staff in 1942. In a letter to the journal, Maurice Clavel showed (and he was later proven right), that the centrist candidate achieved


second place and not first, as he had claimed (Le Figaro, 2 December 1965). The revelation developed into quite an affair, notably because of the prestige of philosophy and the weight of formal education in French culture. During the campaign for the second round, Le Figaro supported de Gaulle, but in a more subdued manner. It retained a distance from the Gaullist agenda, adopted a fairly balanced news policy and opened its columns to Mitterrand’s supporters. It favoured the president but with much less enthusiasm than it had done in 1958. The position of Le Figaro stemmed from the traditional ideological stance of the paper, which has always been overt about it being the ‘paper of the bourgeoisie’. Le Figaro did not consider de Gaulle as the representative of this social class, nor did it trust him to defend its interests. Several of its columnists disagreed with many of his policies, wishing that France could adopt more pro-European policies and develop closer diplomatic ties with the United States (an example being André-François Poncet, in Le Figaro, 3 December 1965). De Gaulle was second choice for Le Figaro, whom it supported in the absence of a right-wing candidate likely to win the contest. Had Jean Lecanuet not trailed behind François Mitterrand in the opinion polls, the Parisian daily might have backed the centrist candidate instead of de Gaulle. During the legislative elections of March 1967, Le Figaro first focused on the campaign itself and ran several stories on topics such as the influence of television and the professionalization of political parties (Le Figaro, 2, 3, 4–5 March 1967). It is only in the few days preceding the second round that it became more partisan, supporting the majority out of fear of a victory of the Left, which was doing well in the polls (Le Figaro, 10, 11–12 March 1967). In April 1969, Le Figaro remained supportive of de Gaulle and backed the referendum. It ran a series of special reports on regionalization, one of the referendum’s issues, and its columnists refused to be dragged into the raging debate about the plebiscitary character of the vote (Le Figaro, 15 to 25 April 1969). Le Figaro’s news policy was slanted in favour of a yes vote in the referendum and de Gaulle’s supporters were given substantially more space than the growing army of his opponents, including former allies Alain Poher and Valéry Giscard d’Estaing. Political columnists Marcel Gabilly, André Frossard, Louis Gabriel-Robinet and Michel Bassi, and cartoonist


Jacques Faizant, all came out in favour of de Gaulle (Le Figaro, 23, 25, 26–27 April 1969). The stronger-than-usual backing for de Gaulle was caused by a change of heart at Le Figaro. Following May 1968, the paper regarded the president as the best guarantee against political instability. The leading article published the day before the referendum expressed pity for the poor state of the opposition and expressed fears about the revolutionary intentions of left-wing radicals. If de Gaulle was to vacate the presidency, the editorial argued, the country could well face an insurrection and no one, this time, would be able to contain the rioters (Le Figaro, 26–27 April 1969).

France-Soir As with most other newspapers, France-Soir supported the referendum of September 1958. Four years later, its news policy was still very much biased in favour of de Gaulle. Its columns echoed none of the reservations and criticisms expressed by many political commentators regarding the constitutional changes the electorate was asked to endorse. The popular daily also published a fair amount of presidential protocol news, covering both state visits and official ceremonies at great length. The management of France-Soir also published France-Référendum, a four-page propaganda sheet in favour of the referendum, thereby revealing the connivance between the controllers or the paper, its editor, Pierre Lazareff, and the regime (Courrière, 1995, p. 706). France-Soir again entered the campaign for de Gaulle during the presidential race. Its news treatment was considered to be grossly distorted. Headlines and headings of campaign stories were often excerpts from Gaullist supporters’ speeches. News accounts of Gaullist meetings were compiled from quotations from speeches patched together. The paper resorted to unsubtle propaganda to support the president. On 1 December, the page 7 headline read: ‘Up by 7 am, de Gaulle works every day very late on France’s great problems’. The news selection was equally biased. In the week prior to the first election, Cabinet members and Gaullist supporters were given more space than all the other candidates put together. In the 4 December issue, page 6 was entirely devoted to the declarations of


no less than eight ministers. News selection criteria were dictated by propaganda imperatives. On 3 December, three ministers were given space to rebut de Gaulle’s opponents on housing, European policy and defence: the three main areas of criticisms from the opposition. An identical pattern followed for the second round. The Left and its candidate had little access to the paper. Even Mitterrand’s broadcast addresses were not given half the space devoted to those of de Gaulle. The campaign of the Left was only mentioned so that it could be disparaged. A news report on a meeting in Nice was full of sarcastic comments about the eclecticism of the audience, dwelling on the fact that Mitterrand was supported by the far left as much as the far right (France-Soir, 18 December 1965). Throughout the campaign, much was made of Mitterrand’s disparate electorate and the radicalism of his communist supporters. The candidate of the Left was depicted as hungry for power, de Gaulle as a natural leader; Mitterrand as a politician and a schemer, de Gaulle as a chief of state. Leading articles caricatured the leftist candidate and warned of absolute chaos if de Gaulle was lead to leave the presidency (FranceSoir, 16–19 December 1965). The connivance between the popular daily and the Gaullist regime was made obvious once more during the legislative elections of March 1967. Among the Gaullists who lost their seats at this election were four Cabinet Ministers: Maurice Couve de Murville (Foreign Affairs); Pierre Messmer (Defence); Alexandre Sanguinetti (War Veterans) and Jean Charbonnel (Overseas Aid). The Gaullist Party must have warned France-Soir that they were in danger, as, in two subsequent issues, each of these Gaullist grandees was the object of a grotesquely sycophantic news report (France-Soir, 10, 11 March 1967). France-Soir re-entered the campaign for the final act in April 1969, demonstrating again a peculiar sense of news value. The opposition was ignored. On 26 April, the front page’s main headline, and that of the inside political page, were both on de Gaulle’s forthcoming broadcast address. On 27 April – the last issue before the referendum – the front-page article claimed that the electorate was equally divided. Opinion polls throughout the week had consistently showed a majority against a yes vote in the referendum; a piece of information that France-Soir buried on page 4 (France-Soir, 27–28 April 1969).10


Leading articles relayed Gaullist propaganda and played on people’s fears. An editorial warned readers that de Gaulle’s departure would be followed by an ‘immense vacuum’ and the return of disrupting struggles for power among political parties (France-Soir, 26 April 1969). France-Soir steadily followed a political agenda and its news selection and treatment was geared accordingly. It did not hesitate to serve the regime and relay its propaganda, but, unlike party publications, it was not forthright about its political allegiance. It was rarely explicit regarding its agenda, it made a pretence of journalistic objectivity and impartiality and made attempts to conceal its partisanship. L’Humanité As it proclaimed beneath its masthead, L’Humanité was the official paper of the French Communist Party. There was no possible ambiguity and the paper’s news selection and treatment scrupulously toed the party line. The daily was suffused with party ideology, from the screaming headlines to the comic strip ‘Pif the Dog’. Many articles were exhortations to the rank and file of the party and carried calls for action. L’Humanité was vehemently opposed to the Gaullist regime and remained in campaigning mode throughout the 1960s. The French leader was often referred to as ‘general-president’ and the accusations of military dictatorship and fascism never ceased. The paper fought the referenda of 1958, 1962 and 1969 tooth and nail. In December 1965, it supported François Mitterrand, the candidate of the Left. During the legislative elections of March 1967, L’Humanité supported the Communist candidates for the first round and, following a nationwide agreement with the socialists, the candidates of the Left for the second. Libération Libération was less doctrinal than L’Humanité, but its opposition to the Gaullist regime was equally uncompromising. In September 1958, alongside the PCF’s mouthpiece, it was the only Parisian daily to campaign against de Gaulle. One of its columnists claimed that the new constitution opened the way to a dictatorship because of the excessive powers it conferred upon the president, four years


before this very argument was widely used for the referendum of October 1962 (Libération, 25 September 1958). Libération was also suspicious of the close relationship between de Gaulle, the Catholic Church and the army (ibid.). The front-page leading article on 27 September claimed that to vote for the referendum was to vouch for those who endorsed de Gaulle: ‘the fascist generals of 13 May [1958] who want to build on the ruins of the Republic a military dictatorship and a regime of policed terror’ and ‘the reactionaries and clerics who demand an immediate return to the moral order’ (Libération, 27–28 September 1958). The referendum of 1962 brought a similar response from Libération. There was no need to reinforce the already excessive presidential powers with an election by universal suffrage (Libération, 3 October 1962). The paper deplored de Gaulle’s blackmail following his thinly veiled threats to resign if not given enough support (4 October 1962). It campaigned actively for the opposition and advertised the meetings, appeals and manifestos organized by the opposition. Le Monde In May 1958, Le Monde had had enough with the dysfunctional Fourth Republic and welcomed the return of de Gaulle to power. However, few months later, editorialists began to express reserves about the constitutional project that was to be submitted to the nation’s suffrage. Maurice Duverger found the project too presidential in character; Raymond Aron thought that the constitution was reactionary and Pierre Viansson-Ponté, the political editor, expressed doubts about Article 16, which grants extraordinary powers to the president in times of crisis (Le Monde, 5, 14 August 1958). Despite these reservations, the ‘official’ position of the evening paper remained roughly favourable to the constitutional project. Hubert Beuve-Méry, the managing editor, gave a blessing with strong provisos to the referendum a couple of days before polling day: ‘the hope is too fragile, the threat too specific, the gamble too risky for this “yes” – which we would have preferred enthusiastic and definitive – not to be conditional and provisional’ (Le Monde, 26 September 1958). Beuve-Méry’s support was indeed conditional and, four years later, he felt that he could not endorse de Gaulle’s constitutional


modification. He asked for polling day to be postponed because of the Cuban crisis and called for the Constitutional Council not to validate the referendum, on the basis of its first verdict, declaring it unconstitutional (on the grounds that a parliamentary procedure should have been followed instead of a popular vote). Beuve-Méry concluded that, regretfully, it had become ‘impossible […] to maintain any longer the “yes” [which was] “conditional and provisional”’ (Le Monde, 26 October 1962). The news policy and background commentaries were congruent with this position. The campaign of the opposition was better covered than that of the government and several columnists echoed the opinion of Beuve-Méry, notably Maurice Duverger (14 September) and Jacques Fauvet (2 October). Le Monde never again supported de Gaulle and Beuve-Méry radicalized his position against the president barely a month after the October 1962 referendum. The heading of his leading article on the legislative elections, which took place in November 1962, read as follows: ‘The Victory of the General-President’ (Le Monde, 27 November 1962). During the first round of the presidential election Le Monde was biased against the de Gaulle candidacy. The news selection was fair, but news reports were frequently unbalanced. The reporters sent to the electoral meetings of the opposition (mainly those of Mitterrand and Lecanuet) were clearly more enthralled about what they saw than those sent to the Gaullist meetings (Le Monde, 2 December 1965). Commentators were also prompt to dwell on the president’s tactical mistakes and to underline the superiority of the means the government had employed in the campaign (Le Monde, 2, 3, 4 December 1965). Hubert Beuve-Méry’s two leading articles before the first round were strongly against the regime (Le Monde, 3, 4 December 1965). He attacked the authoritarian overtones of the de Gaulle presidency, citing ‘the organized confusion between referendum and plebiscite, the proliferation of police corps [and] the abuse of propaganda and secretive actions’ (Le Monde, 4 December 1965). He also thought that the foreign policy was too nationalistic in character and that the government was engaged in the pursuit of a ‘sovereignty that was more illusory by the day’. Beuve-Méry’s conclusion implied a liberty of choice between Lecanuet and Mitterrand (ibid.).


Past the first round, Le Monde showed a clear preference for Mitterrand. De Gaulle increased his television appearances between the two rounds, giving the opportunity to the editorial staff of the evening paper to draw unflattering comparisons between the two candidates. Pierre Viansson-Ponté decreed: ‘De Gaulle looks increasingly like a candidate, and Mitterrand a chief of state’ (Le Monde, 14 December 1965). The next day, a news report mocked de Gaulle’s attempt to create ‘the illusion of spontaneity and improvisation’ in his last political broadcast (Le Monde, 15 December 1965). In contrast, the tone of Mitterrand’s broadcast was seen as ‘spontaneous’ and his conversation with the interviewer as ‘composed’ (ibid.). The report also sneered at de Gaulle’s attacks on political parties while praising the leftist candidate’s manifesto (ibid.). Two days later, a second series of political broadcasts allowed Le Monde to eulogize their candidate again. Viansson-Ponté built an entire argument on the basis that de Gaulle appealed to ‘public vindictiveness’ while Mitterrand’s appeal was ‘devoid of resentment’ (Le Monde, 17 December 1965). During the week preceding the second round Le Monde followed the Socialist campaign with sustained attention, devoting 15 per cent more space to Mitterrand’s campaign than to de Gaulle’s bid. Many news reports revealed an anti-Gaullist bias. Unlike the news accounts reporting Socialist rallies, those on Gaullist meetings emphasized mishaps. André Passeron’s account of the Gaullist meeting at the Palais des Sports had sarcastic and derisive overtones. He claimed that the crowd was lethargic and poked fun at the Gaullists because a record went on too early, interrupting de Gaulle and forcing the crowd to stand and sing La Marseillaise (Le Monde, 17 December 1965). Two days later, while a correspondent took pains to notice that ‘several incidents had marred the last Gaullist meetings’, another was engrossed by what he saw at a Socialist gathering. Even before Mitterrand had said a word, the correspondent was mesmerized by the Socialist candidate and enthused: ‘M. Francois Mitterrand comes in, shakes hundreds of hands and reaches the podium under acclaim. It is a triumph as the chair proclaims: “Here is the President of the Republic”’ (Le Monde, 19–20 December 1965). Citations from speeches made at Socialist meetings were longer and more flattering than quotations from Gaullists’ addresses. Altogether, readers of Le Monde could be forgiven for thinking that they were heading towards a Socialist victory.


Beuve-Méry’s editorial (pompously entitled ‘The Decision’), came out strongly against de Gaulle (Le Monde, 18 December 1965). For the umpteenth time, he criticized the constitution and the personalization of power. Explaining that many of those who despaired to see de Gaulle change his governing practices were tempted to change the ‘pilot’, he added that in terms of the transition it was important to press on for now (ibid.). In any case, the nation had to end the pseudo alternative between de Gaulle and chaos and thus, he concluded, ‘is it urgent to wait?’ (ibid.). For the legislative elections of March 1967, Le Monde maintained its slant against the Gaullists. During the week before the second round on 12 March, candidates of the opposition were cited 22 per cent more often in the headlines and headings than those of the majority. Le Monde stepped up its opposition for the final referendum. Commentaries, background analyses and political columns were filled with sarcastic remarks against the Gaullists. Among countless instances, Viansson-Ponté raised the question of what exactly de Gaulle meant when talking about ‘“the army of those who support me”’ in his last public address. Did he imply, he asked, that the Gaullists would attempt a military coup if ever the result of the referendum was negative? (Le Monde, 27–28 April 1969). Le Monde’s opposition to de Gaulle was virulent at times. It spilled out over the political columns and tainted the paper’s news reporting. The evening paper remained informative but evidence shows that its news policy was not as objective as suggested by the image of impartial journalism it has successfully projected over the years.

Paris-Jour Paris-Jour paid scant attention to political news but the little it published seemed to come straight from the press office of the presidency. On 17 October 1962, the front-page headline announced that social benefits were to be increased. A news story reported a 4.5 per cent increase in civil servants’ wages later in the week (ParisJour, 20–21 October 1962). As the referendum approached, ParisJour’s leader writer, Bernard Lefort, made the most of de Gaulle’s threat to leave power if he did not get a decent result (Paris-Jour, 27–28 October 1962).


Paris-Jour’s coverage of the presidential election followed a similar pattern. The paper reported on the Gaullist campaign almost exclusively and printed only the addresses given by the president. All five editorials during the week preceding the first round of the elections supported de Gaulle (Paris-Jour, 29, 30 November, 1, 2, 4–5 December 1965). Before the first round, the name of de Gaulle’s main challenger, Mitterrand, appeared only in Paris-Jour sporadically. The paper pursued a similar strategy through the second round, even though it was becoming increasingly difficult to avoid mentioning the leader of the Left. De Gaulle was the only candidate to be given front-page headlines and his interviews with Michel Droit were reproduced in extenso in the centre pages, while Mitterrand’s addresses were shortened and buried at the bottom of an inside page (Paris-Jour, 13, 14, 16 December 1965). During the legislative elections of March 1967, Paris-Jour devoted far more attention to the candidates of the majority than those of the opposition. Lefort’s leading articles consistently portrayed the Left as too disorganized and the Communists as too radical to be able to govern the country (Paris-Jour, 3, 4–5 March 1967). Just before the second round, as the Left was gaining ground in the opinion polls, Lefort resorted to an old argument and equated a victory of the Left with a return to the Fourth Republic (Paris-Jour, 11–12 March 1967). In April 1969, Paris-Jour was once more loyal to the regime. Political commentaries leant towards de Gaulle and Lefort still had no grievances to voice about the president after 11 years in power. Gaullist supporters also were given much better access to the paper than the opposition, which attracted only negative coverage. A rare news story on a meeting of the opposition claimed that the ‘venue was too crammed and the applause too loud to be genuine’ (ParisJour, 26–27 April 1969). A news report mentioned the unfavourable opinion polls for the first time in the last issue before the referendum, but the political correspondent speculated that de Gaulle would probably reverse the trend with his last address (ibid.). Paris-Presse Paris-Presse, like Paris-Jour, paid very little attention to the referendum of September 1958 and followed the flow of favourable opinions.


It revealed marked Gaullist sympathies. Four years later, in October 1962, during the presidential election, the paper got even more deeply involved in the Gaullist camp. In addition to a partisan news policy, Pierre Charpy’s and Henri Marque’s leading articles, André Frossard’s political columns and Jacques Faizant’s cartoons were all pointedly pro-Gaullist. Much was made of Jean Lecanuet’s pretence of coming first in the nationwide exam of philosophy for teaching staff in 1942 (Paris-Presse, 2, 3, 4 December 1965). Paris-Presse also published political columns by leftist journalists and academics, such as former Libération’s managing editor, Emmanuel d’Astier de la Vigerie, who were in favour of the de Gaulle candidacy (ParisPresse, 2 December 1965). The paper kept a similar partisan line for the second round. The news was heavily slanted and zealous editorial columns deified de Gaulle and demonized Mitterrand. Paris-Presse was equally supportive of the Gaullists during the legislative elections of 1967. The news pages avoided mentions of poor opinion polls for the Gaullists and the leading articles emphasized the dissensions present in the camp of the Left and cast strong doubts on its ability to govern (Paris-Presse, 3, 4, 8, 10, 11 March 1967). Paris-Presse remained loyal to the regime to the end. In April 1969, editorial comments relayed the Gaullist threats of doom and gloom if ever the French leader was ousted from the presidency. The same message prevailed in the news. Front-page headlines forecast a crisis in the event of de Gaulle’s defeat (Paris-Presse, 23 April 1969). On polling day the paper published the only opinion poll that did not indicate a commanding lead for the no vote in the referendum and then had the audacity to claim that this poll was the most reliable (Paris-Presse, 28 April 1969). Le Parisien Libéré Aiming at a large readership, Le Parisien Libéré was careful about the opinions it professed in that its support of de Gaulle was insidious. The news selection and treatment during September 1958 was strongly biased in favour of the new regime. Good news was echoed in headlines while bad news was left out of the paper altogether. Gaullist speeches were often abstracted in headings, as in the following example: ‘In his broadcast message, the General de Gaulle exclaimed: “It is a new republic that will be put in place to lead France to renovation”’ (Le Parisien Libéré, 27 September 1958).


The referendum of October 1962 was the only occasion when the support of the daily for de Gaulle faltered. Leaders of the opposition had better access to the paper then their Gaullist counterparts and the paper’s news policy was slanted in their favour. The only leading article was published after polling day and was critical of the new constitution (Le Parisien Libéré, 29 October 1962). Le Parisien Libéré resumed its support for de Gaulle at the presidential election. It began its campaign with a front-page headline claiming that the energy of a septuagenarian in the 1960s was as high as that of a 50-year old at the beginning of the century (Le Parisien Libéré, 26 November 1965). The reasoning behind this claim was that de Gaulle’s own age, 75 on 22 November 1965, was the object of damaging speculation from the opposition. During the last week of the campaign the president was given on average at least twice as much space as any other candidate. Two days before the first round the paper devoted an equal amount of space to de Gaulle as to the other five candidates (Le Parisien Libéré, 3 December 1965). In the 4 December issue, as if it were the official paper of the Gaullist campaign, it published on the front page a large picture of de Gaulle in full presidential attire. Le Parisien Libéré carried on with the same news policy during the campaign for the second round. The de Gaulle bid received far more attention than that of Mitterrand: de Gaulle’s catchphrases were headlined and his political broadcasts were reported verbatim while those of Mitterrand were summarized. There were many more accounts from the Gaullist campaign trail than from the Socialist camp. The editorial line was inherently Gaullist. In the 17 December issue, the caption of Prime Minister Pompidou’s front-page picture was a quotation from his speech and read as follows: ‘“With M. Mitterrand, it is the return to the Fourth Republic, during which he has been Minister eleven times”’ (Le Parisien Libéré, 17 December 1965). A smaller front-page heading referred the same speech and read: ‘The Prime Minister has confirmed the exactitude of the figures given by the General de Gaulle’ (ibid.). In a previous political broadcast, de Gaulle had given figures that were contested by the opposition, and Le Parisien Libéré gave large publicity to Pompidou’s rebuttal, despite the fact that the issue did not have much news value, this being hardly a surprise. As before the first round, Le Parisien Libéré published a picture of de Gaulle in official attire,


alongside a small portrait of Mitterrand who was shown wearing a wry smile which unflatteringly revealed his protuberant incisors (which he, allegedly, later had cut) (Le Parisien Libéré, 19 December 1965). Le Parisien Libéré renewed its propagandist effort for the legislative elections of March 1967. News coverage was strongly biased in favour of the government and editorials read like synopses of the Gaullist manifesto (Le Parisien Libéré, 4–5 March 1967). For the second round, the paper went out of its way to defend the threatened Gaullist majority. In addition to the more than generous space given to the Gaullists, the government’s most partisan claims were given front-page status. The day before the election, the front-page headline was extracted from the Prime Minister’s speech: ‘“All those who reject daylight or covert totalitarianism must respond to the appeal of the Fifth Republic … and for long the future is ensured”’ (Le Parisien Libéré, 11–12 March 1967). Le Parisien Libéré’s allegiance to the regime remained strong to the end. In April 1969, when a majority of political leaders opposed the referendum, Le Parisien Libéré continued to devote most of its news space to the supporters of the government. When reporting on the opposition, it privileged its most radical elements, notably the Communists. Whenever it mentioned opinion polls favourable to the opposition, it questioned their validity (see, for example, Le Parisien Libéré, 26 April 1969).

2.2

The provincial press

The reputation of the French provincial press for editorial caution does not stand up to careful examination. As Table 2.2 shows, the 11 most widely circulated regional dailies took reasonably clear-cut positions during the defining moments of the de Gaulle presidency. This section focuses on the four most prominent newspapers listed in this table, Le Dauphiné Libéré, Ouest France, Le Progrès and La Voix du Nord. Le Dauphiné Libéré In September 1958, Le Dauphiné Libéré stood firmly behind the new Gaullist government. Its leading articles campaigned against voters’ apathy and pleaded with readers to approve the new constitution en


masse in order to establish the regime’s legitimacy (Le Dauphiné Libéré, 23 to 27 September 1958). In October 1962, the mood swung in the opposite direction. The same leader writer who had been enthralled about the nascent Fifth Republic in 1958 was now convinced that de Gaulle’s latest venture was hazardous and unconstitutional (Le Dauphiné Libéré, 9, 10 October 1962). Subsequently, the newspaper remained firmly opposed to the Gaullist regime. It backed Mitterrand’s bid in December 1965, the Left at the legislative elections of March 1967, and the opposition for the last referendum.

Ouest-France The editorial line of Ouest-France was rooted in the Catholic centreright tradition. It strongly supported de Gaulle’s first referendum and its columnists exhorted readers against abstention. ‘To abstain is to defect’, one of them wrote, arguing that ‘the vote must be massive so that foreigners, allies and foes alike, rest clearly assured of the common will of the French people’ (Ouest-France, 24 September 1958). Ouest-France continued to back the regime for the referendum in October 1962. Editorials defended de Gaulle against accusations of dictatorship, recalled for readers the glorious past of their leader and brandished the threat of a return to the Fourth Republic if ever the people’s verdict on the referendum was negative (Ouest-France, 17, 19, 26 October 1962). For the first round of the presidential election, Ouest-France was careful not to take too obvious a stance, but revealed preferences for the centrist candidate, Jean Lecanuet. Leader writers were sensitive to Lecanuet’s arguments on the need for further European integration and the necessity to reduce de Gaulle’s extravagant defence budget (Ouest-France, 2, 4–5 December 1965). The news selection was likewise slightly biased in favour of Lecanuet. His campaign got the best coverage and the paper went to the extent of publishing the dull communiqués issued by his campaign headquarters. After the first round, Ouest-France chose de Gaulle over Mitterrand. Three leading articles took a position in favour of the president, citing the alliance of Mitterrand with the Communists and the political uncertainties associated with a victory of the Socialist candidate (OuestFrance, 13, 15, 17 December 1965). The news policy also favoured de

First referendum, 28/9/1958

Fourth referendum, 28/10/1962




Fifth referendum, 27/4/1969

Le Dauphiné Libéré, Grenoble


Opposing de Gaulle

Biased in favour of Mitterrand


Biased in favour of the leftist opposition


La Dépêche du Midi, Toulouse

Opposing de Gaulle




Supporting the Socialists


L’Est Républicain, Nancy





Biased against the majority


La Montagne, Strongly biased Clermont– in favour of Ferrand de Gaulle






Nice-Matin





Slightly biased in favour of the majority

Neutral

La Nouvelle République, Tours


Opposing de Gaulle

Opposing de Gaulle

Strongly biased in favour of Mitterrand



44

Table 2.2 Stances of 11 provincial daily newspapers at the 1958, October 1962 and 1969 referenda, the 1965 presidential election and the 1967 legislative elections

(continued) Table 2.2 Stances of 11 provincial daily newspapers at the 1958, October 1962 and 1969 referenda, the 1965 presidential election and the 1967 legislative elections First referendum, 28/9/1958

Fourth referendum, 28/10/1962




Fifth referendum, 27/4/1969

Ouest-France, Supporting Rennes de Gaulle


Biased in favour of Lecanuet


Slightly biased against the majority

Opposing de Gaulle

Le Progrès, Lyon







Le Républicain Strongly biased Lorrain, in favour of Metz de Gaulle






Sud-Ouest, Bordeaux


Opposing de Gaulle

Opposing de Gaulle


Strongly biased in favour of the Socialists


la Voix du Nord, Lille







45


Gaulle’s candidacy with more coverage and better access being given to the Gaullist camp. There is not much evidence of bias in the paper’s news selection and coverage of the national campaign for the legislative elections of March 1967. Political commentaries were matter-of-fact and the only editorial of the period did not take sides (Ouest-France, 4–5 March 1967). The centrist sympathies of the paper, however, were revealed at a local level. Centrist and leftist candidates had better access to the newspaper and their meetings attracted more positive coverage. Following the first round, which most centrist candidates did not survive, Ouest-France reduced its coverage of the campaign to the barest minimum. Political commentators took care to mark their distance vis-à-vis the regime and deplored the polarization of French politics and the lack of options between the Gaullists and the Left (Ouest-France, 9, 10 March 1967). In April 1969, Ouest-France came up strongly against de Gaulle. Political commentators disagreed with the government over two key issues, the project of regionalization and the reform of the Senate. The news policy was geared against de Gaulle and both his rightwing opponents and former allies were given a great deal of positive coverage. Out of 36 political columns published on the referendum during the three weeks preceding polling day, 26 recommended a no vote (Ouest-France, 8 to 26 April 1969). Le Progrès Le Progrès, a quality and influential newspaper established in Lyon, began the de Gaulle era with an excellent disposition towards the new regime. J-R Tournoux, the paper’s main political analyst, approved the constitutional project after a lengthy five-day editorial scrutiny (Le Progrès, 23 to 27 September 1958). Le Progrès, however, did not support the president for his next political reform in October 1962. Leading articles argued that the reform betrayed the spirit of the 1958 constitution and that the election of the president by universal suffrage would make the regime too presidential and ill-adapted to the existing political institutions (Le Progrès, 6, 17, 18, 19 October 1962). Closer to polling day, the paper stopped short of issuing a vote recommendation, but deplored the consequences of the referendum, namely the divide of the country into two camps and the heavy political manoeuvring


that would follow the decision to elect the president by universal suffrage (Le Progrès, 27 October 1962). For the first round of the presidential election, Le Progrès was strongly biased against de Gaulle: the leading articles, the background political commentaries and the news policy were all geared against him. The grievance that the Lyon-based daily held against the president was related to his style of governance, regarded as too autocratic, perverting the 1958 constitution and threatening civil liberties (Le Progrès, 1, 2, 3, 4 December 1965). The leading article of the 1 December issue claimed that the regime was on the verge of becoming a ‘monarchy of pseudo-divine right, in which everything would depend upon one man, and where political freedom would cease to be a granted right to become a privilege’ (Le Progrès, 1 December 1965). For the second round, the paper kept its stance against de Gaulle, despite the defeat of the centre-right candidate. In March 1967, Le Progrès remained biased against the Gaullist majority. A series of editorials deplored the imbalance of power between the Executive and Parliament (Le Progrès, 1 to 3 March 1967). The paper was also concerned about the lack of authority of representatives elected by powerful regional cities such as Lyon. The political commentaries leaned towards the opposition and, after the second round, the newspaper rejoiced over the good results for the Left (Le Progrès, 11, 13 March 1967). In April 1969, Le Progrès was one of several papers that disapproved of almost anything the president was doing. Its political columnists could not wait for his demise and took great pains to demonstrate that it would not be the end of the world if he was to leave the presidency (Le Progrès, 24 to 26 April 1969). La Voix du Nord La Voix du Nord was the most prominent regional newspaper that was known for its Gaullist sympathies. Based in Lille, it was published in a region where de Gaulle enjoyed a great deal of support. De Gaulle’s family had its roots in the north and the French leader was himself born in that city. For La Voix du Nord, a newspaper issued from the Resistance and published in a region that paid a heavy toll in the Second World War, de Gaulle was first and foremost the war leader who saved France from tyranny and the humiliation of defeat. Its support for


de Gaulle was unequivocal. In September 1958, a week after de Gaulle had been fêted like a hero by the local population, it made a direct appeal to readers ‘to fulfil [their] civic duty and vote yes’ (La Voix du Nord, 27 September 1958). The enthusiasm of the northern daily was more temperate in October 1962. Although its news policy continued to be tailored towards the government, it devoted a fair amount of space to the opposition. Leading articles were also more subdued than in 1958 and it waited until the day before the referendum to criticize the opposition for political manoeuvring and electoral opportunism (La Voix du Nord, 27 October 1962). La Voix du Nord stood firm behind its champion for the presidential election. Its news policy was blatantly biased in favour of de Gaulle, who was above criticism. The paper maintained a clear-cut editorial distinction between the incumbent and the pretenders, and de Gaulle’s status was never reduced to that of a mere candidate. The front page was reserved for the Gaullists and three times in the last week of the campaign the front-page headline either announced the president’s forthcoming address or quoted the previous one (La Voix du Nord, 30 November, 1, 4 December 1965). Other candidates’ addresses were summarized in the inside pages. The paper’s editorialists, Robert Décout, André Stibio and Paul Gérin, were all supportive of the Gaullist bid. Between the two rounds, the news continued to be carefully vetted and only news favourable to the regime filtered through. For instance, La Voix du Nord made much of the government’s announcement that farmers saw their income rise by 0.7 per cent in 1965 (La Voix du Nord, 17 December 1965). The opposition on the other hand had no access to the paper and attracted only negative coverage (La Voix du Nord, 14, 16, 17 December 1965). For the legislative elections of March 1967, La Voix du Nord gave fair access to the local candidates of the main parties but remained extremely slanted in its political commentaries. Robert Décout repeatedly argued that the Left was not ready to govern and warned readers against the ‘revolutionary’ long-term objectives of the Communist Party, which had a strong appeal in the region (La Voix du Nord, 1, 10 March 1967). In April 1969, La Voix du Nord mounted a spirited defence of the regime. It dramatized the consequences of de Gaulle’s departure in


case of defeat, and, casting the president as the safest option for national security, raised the alarm over the threat of an armed conflict between Israel and neighbouring Arab countries (La Voix du Nord, 23, 24 April 1969). It also ignored the campaign of the opposition and the growing clamour of voices against de Gaulle. While opinion polls indicated a six-point lead for the no vote in the last week of the campaign, La Voix du Nord’s political columnist, Paul Gérin, editorialized on the subject of the great number of indecisive voters. He claimed that those who had made a decision were ‘split almost exactly between the “yes” and the “no”’ (La Voix du Nord, 25 April 1969). He did not seem to believe that the government could lose over the referendum and emphasized that de Gaulle had turned around seemingly hopeless situations several times in the past (ibid.).

2.3 Current affairs magazines: Le Nouvel Observateur and L’Express In the 1950s, two weeklies were launched that soon came to occupy a prominent position in the French public sphere: France-Observateur (to become Le Nouvel Observateur in 1964) and L’Express. Both of them began as opinion weeklies and adopted the news-magazine format in the course of the 1960s. They were successful commercial ventures and their circulations rose steadily. The circulation of Le Nouvel Observateur was reported to be 69 000 weekly copies in 1966 and 168 000 copies in 1969 (Presse-Actualité, November 1971, p. 36). L’Express’s circulation went from 138 000 weekly copies in 1960 to 262 000 copies in 1965 and 510 000 copies by 1969 (Vendosme, 1971, p. 19). The bulk of the papers’ readerships came from the middle- and upper-middle classes (Cayrol, 1966, pp. 500–4). France-Observateur/Le Nouvel Observateur France-Observateur was launched in April 1950 by a group of leftwing journalists who had left Combat and rapidly became a focal point for the French intelligentsia and left-wing political personnel (Hamdani, 1969; Arven, 1983). The weekly had strong links with key figures in academia and politics, most notably Pierre Mendès France, Michel Rocard and François Mitterrand, and it was at the forefront of the left-wing cultural and political agenda (Rieffel, 1993, pp. 118–39; Pinto, 1970).


France-Observateur first rose to prominence with its virulent opposition to the colonial wars France was waging in South-East Asia and Algeria. Its defence of indigenous populations put the weekly on a collision course with the French authorities, both before and after de Gaulle’s return to power. In the mid-1950s, some of its journalists were imprisoned, including the editor Claude Bourdet, for opposing the sending of more troops to Algeria (Bellanger et al., 1975, p. 449). The magazine was seized 12 times for similar offences between 1955 and 1960 (Bellanger et al., 1976, p. 173). In November 1964, the editorial team of France-Observateur combined forces with a group of journalists who had left L’Express to launch a modernized version of the magazine: Le Nouvel Observateur. The new venture, edited by Jean Daniel, was more news-oriented but kept the same political outlook. It was launched with the endorsement of Pierre Mendès France and Jean-Paul Sartre. Le Nouvel Observateur remained firmly in the opposition during the de Gaulle era, to the extent that it participated to the foundation of a radical left-wing party, the Parti socialiste unifié (PSU), headed by Michel Rocard (Cayrol, 1966, pp. 505–20). Almost every week, essays and articles criticized different aspects of the regime, from its general political orientation to its foreign policy. By way of contrast, Le Nouvel Observateur showed much benevolence towards leaders of the Left and for foreign leftist regimes, including the newly independent Algeria, Cuba and, to a lesser extent, the European countries of the Communist bloc.11 This was coupled with a strong anti-American streak that was pervasive in the news stories on the United States and the Vietnam War.12 France-Observateur was staunchly opposed to a yes vote in the referenda of September 1958 and October 1962 and campaigned in 1962 with the aim of getting de Gaulle out of office. The headline on the cover of the 25 October issue summarizes its stance: ‘His resignation or yours?’ (France-Obervateur, 25 October 1962). During the 1965 presidential race the magazine campaigned for an alliance between the socialists and the communists and the emergence of a strong candidate for the Left. It expressed relief when the premature candidacy of Gaston Defferre, the centre-left Mayor of Marseille, failed and wholeheartedly supported Mitterrand’s subsequent bid.13


Le Nouvel Observateur was at its most partisan before the legislative elections of March 1967. Every issue of the magazine between January and March 1967 included editorials, essays and reportages that pressed charges against the regime. The Gaullists were demonized and depicted as incompetent, out of date and avid for power.14 In 1969, Le Nouvel Observateur was as intransigent as ever. The headline on the cover page of the 14 April issue, spread across an unflattering picture of de Gaulle, read: ‘27 April: Do You Want to Keep Him?’ (Le Nouvel Observateur, 14 April 1969). In the inside pages, the editor capped the argument in favour of de Gaulle’s departure (ibid., p. 16). In the same issue, the magazine opened its columns to eight leaders of the opposition, ranging from Michel Rocard to centrist Senator Alain Poher (ibid., pp. 6–13). They all looked forward to the referendum as a chance to drive de Gaulle out of power and many hoped that it would conclude the unfinished business of May 1968 (ibid., pp. 18–19). The post-election issue was suffused with triumph and the cover page’s headline read: ‘France Awakes’ (Le Nouvel Observateur, 29 April 1969’. L’Express Jean-Jacques Servan-Schreiber, journalist and scion of a newspaper owner, launched L’Express in May 1953. It began its life as a leftleaning opinion weekly and, by the early 1960s, although it was never as radical as France-Observateur, it had also risen to prominence through its crusades against France’s last colonial wars (Pucheu, 1967). L’Express developed close links with the Parisian intelligentsia and several of its members from across the political spectrum collaborated actively with it, including Raymond Aron, Michel Crozier, Maurice Duverger, Henri Lefebvre, Alain Touraine, Jean-Paul Sartre and Maurice Merleau-Ponty. The politicians most closely associated with L’Express came from the moderate and modernist wing of the Socialist Party, including Gaston Defferre and Pierre Mendès France (Siritzky and Roth, 1979; Rieffel, 1993, pp. 113–14). L’Express’s opposition to de Gaulle was uncompromising from the outset. As early as May 1958, setting the tone for de Gaulle’s presidency, it pledged to ‘fight today and fight tomorrow, the only


alternative to those who do not want to bow to the legionnaires’ orders’ (L’Express, 29 May 1958). The theme that dominated the columns of L’Express during the campaign for the first referendum in September 1958 was that the new regime was akin to a military dictatorship. For instance, JeanPaul Sartre argued in an essay entitled ‘The Frogs Demand a King’ (no pun intended) that dictators do not resolve the internal conflicts and contradictions for which they are called to power in the first place (L’Express, 25 September 1958, pp. 15–18). In the same vein, the cover page of the 25 September issue reproduced the text of the plebiscite called by Napoléon III in May 1870. The next issue’s cover page showed a statue of Caesar adorned with a quotation from Machiavelli: ‘To govern is to make believe’ (L’Express, 2 October 1958, p. 1). In October 1962, Servan-Schreiber’s editorials were particularly partisan.15 Françoise Giroud’s leading articles were equally uncompromising, once underlining the inconvenience associated with personal power in the following terms: ‘The Gaullist monarchy, it is one man. There could be one bullet, but there could be none. He cannot do anything, neither can we’ (L’Express, 25 October 1962, p. 10). As in 1958, Pierre Mendès France was given unparalleled access to the magazine to advertise his political platform.16 In September 1964, Servan-Schreiber transformed L’Express into a news-magazine and the radicals of the editorial team left to launch Le Nouvel Observateur. Henceforth, L’Express changed its creed. It moved further to the centre of the political spectrum and embarked on a crusade to modernize France along the lines of John F. Kennedy’s New Frontier. From this new standpoint, de Gaulle appeared as unattractive as ever and did not compare favourably to the magazine’s new American idol. L’Express was an early advocate of the candidacy of Gaston Defferre to the presidency. Inspired by the account of Kennedy’s electioneering techniques in Theodore White’s The Making of the President (1961), Servan-Schreiber and Jean Ferniot, a journalist at L’Express, attempted to create a media event by drawing an anonymous portrait of the ideal presidential candidate, whom they named ‘Monsieur X’ (L’Express, 10 and 17 October 1964). By December, Defferre was revealed as the mysterious candidate, but the rumours of an early presidential election had vanished. Defferre’s bid faltered


and Mitterrand, closer to the Communist Party, became the candidate of the Left. In the closing months of 1965, the editorial team of L’Express was divided. Jean-Jacques Servan-Schreiber and Georges Suffert supported Lecanuet, but many political columnists, including Jacques Derogy and Serge Richard, preferred Mitterrand. The final editorial before polling day recommended either Lecanuet or Mitterrand (L’Express, 29 November 1965, pp. 28–9). For the second round, the editorial team rallied behind the candidate of the Left and Servan-Schreiber urged Lecanuet to ask his electorate to vote Mitterrand (something he did a few days later) (L’Express, 13 December 1965, pp. 42–3). In March 1967, L’Express was showing distinct leanings towards the leftist opposition. Servan-Schreiber committed his vote to the Socialists, because, he wrote, of the necessity of a strong opposition to the regime, now entering its third legislative mandate (L’Express, 27 February 1967, p. 41). The news-magazine remained hostile to the regime until the last referendum.17

2.4

Periodicals

Among the other periodicals, Le Canard Enchaîné was the most closely involved in politics. It was a satirical weekly founded during the First World War by a group of radical journalists who were protesting against censorship. It thrived in the 1960s, with a circulation well above 300 000. It was politically independent but its core values were close to those of the Left. During the de Gaulle presidency, Le Canard acted like a newspaper of the opposition. For instance, it supported Mitterrand during the 1965 presidential race. Le Canard specialized in mocking de Gaulle’s monarchical demeanour and folie de grandeur. A favourite of cartoonists Roland Moisan and J. Lap was to sketch de Gaulle as Louis XIV and portray him as a vain and self-conscious monarch obsessed with pomp and splendour (Figure 2.1). André Ribaud wrote a weekly column entitled ‘The Court’ that poked fun at de Gaulle (referred to as ‘The King’), and the sycophantic courtiers who formed his entourage. Altogether, Le Canard Enchaîné depicted the Gaullist administration as a government of the ancien régime. Reportedly, de Gaulle had a certain fondness for the weekly, but it was truly a thorn in his side.

54

Figure 2.1

Roland Moisan’s caricature of Charles de Gaulle, Le Canard

Enchaîné, 1 December 1965


Two other periodicals with values close to those of de Gaulle’s leftist opponents were Le Monde Diplomatique, a monthly launched in 1954 that followed a developmentalist agenda, and Témoignage Chrétien, a progressive Catholic weekly magazine. Both periodicals had little sympathy to spare for the regime, considering de Gaulle’s mode of governance too reactionary and his policies too right-wing for their taste. No other periodical was directly involved in politics. Among the most noteworthy ones, three had the reputation of being close to the government: Le Figaro Littéraire and Le Nouveau Candide, two literary periodicals, and Jours de France, a society magazine. The latter was owned by defence industrialist Marcel Dassault, whose industrial conglomerate lived on state commissions. The hugely successful Paris-Match was modelled on the American magazine Life. As its American counterpart, it was image-driven and did not engage in politics. Even though it was not known for being unsympathetic to the government, it remained apparently neutral at election times, spread with even photographic reportage which covered all of the favourite candidates.

2.5

De Gaulle and the intelligentsia: the reviews

The post-war years witnessed the development of monthly and bimonthly reviews that stood at the crossroads between academia and journalism. Until the late 1960s, these reviews, which focused on literary, cultural and philosophical issues, were leading institutions in the French intellectual scene. Their circulation figures oscillated between 10 000 and 15 000 copies. They were often linked to particular schools of thought and many of the reputable figures in the social sciences and humanities contributed to these periodicals at one stage or another in their careers. La Nouvelle Critique, La Pensée, and Clarté represented different trends in communism; Arguments and Sartre’s and de Beauvoir’s Les Temps Modernes were labelled progressive; Esprit was ‘modernist’; Preuves was a liberal publication and Tel Quel and Critique (founded by Georges Bataille and with Roland Barthes and Michel Foucault sitting on its editorial board) were the reviews of the literary and cultural avant-garde (Rieffel, 1993). Only two of these reviews had


an oblique interest in politics and commented, sporadically, on current affairs: Esprit and Les Temps Modernes. Esprit Esprit was founded in 1932 and was edited by Jean-Marie Domenach between 1957 and 1976. It was the review least antagonistic to the regime. Most of the essays it published oscillated between a progressive (centre-left) and a modernist (centre-right) stance. On the whole, they defended positions not unlike those of Le Monde, and indeed many of its journalists wrote for Esprit. In the eleven years of the de Gaulle presidency, the handful of essays Esprit published on Gaullism was primarily analytical in scope. Initially, Domenach opposed the return of de Gaulle to power and justified his negative answer to the first referendum in an essay published in September 1958 (Domenach, 1958). Esprit returned to the topic five years later, with a special issue on Gaullism. An academic analysis of Gaullism (Mallet, 1963) was followed by an essay by Stanley Hoffmann who gave a favourable account of the regime’s foreign policy (Hoffmann, 1963). The presidential election was covered, with descriptive accounts of the campaign and electoral issues (Esprit, January and February 1966). The departure of de Gaulle in April 1969 was commented on by Domenach as a rather good thing for the country, but with a hint of nostalgia (Domenach, 1969). Essays on government policies, such as education and broadcasting, were often critical but were fair and well documented.18 Les Temps Modernes Les Temps Modernes, edited by Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir, was the most prominent of all reviews and also the most hostile to the regime. The little they wrote about Gaullism (in short editorials signed ‘TM’), leaves the reader with no doubt of their loathing for it. Their writings on Gaullism intensified during the Algerian War when they censured the French army for the atrocities they committed in the colony. According to the two philosophers, the regime was a military dictatorship, the 1958 constitution was ‘a joke’ and de Gaulle was a ‘general-politician’ (Sartre and de Beauvoir, 1962a, p. 1591; 1962b, p. 769). They qualified their oppo-


sition to the regime as ‘total’ and their overall judgement was without appeal: It is true, we do not live in a Fascist regime in the traditional meaning of the word, but what is Fascism today? The means of domination, domestic and colonial, have changed: it is more efficient and simple to anaesthetize than to oppress overtly […] neo-colonialism is less in need of a Fascism that oppresses than a paternalism that paralyzes. (Sartre and de Beauvoir, 1962a, p. 1590) After the Algerian war, Gaullism was rarely mentioned in Les Temps Modernes but politics came back to the fore after the revolt of May 1968. On this occasion, Sartre and Beauvoir wrote an essay entitled ‘A Beginning’, in which they expressed values and views on contemporary society that stood at the opposite of those of the party in power (Sartre and de Beauvoir, 1968). To Sartre’s and Beauvoir’s credit, they were in a particularly good position to comment on these events, as they had published scores of essays on workers’ and students’ issues years before the explosion of May 1968. Two special issues were devoted to the workers’ movement in August 1964 and February 1967. Contributions on higher education were submitted as early as 1964, beginning with Nacht (1964), Kravetz (1964) and Come (1964), followed by Milbergue (1965), Griset and Kravetz (1965a, b), and Bourdieu and Passeron (1965). 2.5.1

Gaullism and structuralism

Several of these reviews were closely involved with the rise of structuralism in the French intellectual scene of the 1960s. Many of the thinkers associated with this movement published prolifically: Louis Althusser in La Pensée; Pierre Bourdieu, Claude Lévi-Strauss and Nicos Poulantzas in Les Temps Modernes; Michel Foucault and Jacques Lacan in Critique, and Roland Barthes in Tel Quel and Critique. In addition, Esprit devoted two special issues to structuralism (Esprit, November 1963, May 1967) and Les Temps Modernes one, in November 1966. Two thinkers associated with structuralism – and whose work was initially published in these reviews – are relevant to Gaullism:


Louis Althusser and Nicos Poulantzas. Both scholars addressed one of the fundamental issues of their time: the nature of state power. Louis Althusser’s theory of state power – as a combination of repressive and ideological state apparatuses – was first published in La Pensée in 1970 (Althusser, 1970; English translation, 1984). His essay had an immediate impact because it echoed the political reality of its time. The state occupied a highly visible position in all spheres of society and readers could find illustrations of Althusser’s argument in everyday life. For instance, following two decades of state control of broadcasting, it was apparent that the national broadcaster was part of the ideological state apparatus and that its role was to reproduce state power (Althusser, 1984, pp. 14–22). Nicos Poulantzas published his renowned essays on state hegemony in Les Temps Modernes in the mid-1960s (Poulantzas, 1965a, b). He argued that the relationship between the state and the dominant class is too complex to be comprehended using the traditional Marxist model of the state as the product and instrument of the dominant class. He suggested reverting to the analyses of the young Marx and, on this basis, introduced Gramsci’s concept of hegemony in the study of the relationship. This notion, he wrote, brought the focus back on the political role played by the state in the patterns of class domination and on the importance of ideology to win the consent of the ordinary voter class.19 Poulantzas’s analysis offered a less monolithic vision of the state than that of Althusser. However, like the latter, he laid much emphasis on the role of ideology in the reproduction of state power and class domination. Above all, both theories were inspired by their political context and reflected it. Both were an attempt to comprehend state power and a reaction to the overwhelming presence of the state in France. They had an immediate impact on the intellectual debate because readers could relate to the issues they raised. These reviews are revealing of the French intelligentsia’s relationship with Gaullism. It would be far-fetched to refer to these journals as milieux of opposition but they reflected the disaffection of the intelligentsia for the regime at a time when French intellectuals held more prestige and influence than today. Without their backing, the regime was denied a source of legitimacy. De Gaulle understood that a successful regime depended upon the support of at least a section of the intelligentsia. He was also aware of how intellectuals had


influenced French political thought and left their mark on several episodes of French political history (see Section 8.1). De Gaulle was particularly well read and it was claimed that one of his ‘secret pains’ was the ‘misunderstanding of intellectuals’ (Peyrefitte, 1997, p. 183). He keenly embraced the support of André Malraux, his long-time Minister of State for Cultural Affairs, whom he lavished with honours.20 However, Malraux alone could not compensate single-handedly for the disaffection of the overwhelming majority of French intellectuals.

2.6

Conclusions

The analysis of the press during the de Gaulle era had set out to answer two questions: were the Gaullists justified in believing that the press was unremittingly hostile to the regime? And when did de Gaulle, if ever, begin to lose press support? The data in this chapter present a mixed view of the support de Gaulle received from the press during his presidency. They indicate that de Gaulle enjoyed a fair but declining amount of press support during his presidency. 2.6.1

Press opinion during the de Gaulle presidency

Support for de Gaulle or for the Gaullists from France’s leading 22 newspapers (representing 65 per cent of the total in circulation) fell just below 50 per cent on three occasions (Tables 2.3 and 2.4 and Figure 2.1). The first time was in October 1962 when only 47.6 per cent of these titles were in favour of de Gaulle’s fourth referendum. In March 1967 four of the main political parties competed for seats at the National Assembly and newspaper support for the Gaullist parliamentary majority fell to 45 per cent. In April 1969, the number backing the yes vote at the referendum stood at 42.1 per cent. Of those 22 leading titles, in terms of newspaper circulation the press backing for de Gaulle or the Gaullists never fell below 50 per cent (Table 2.5 and Figure 2.1). The lowest point was reached in March 1967, when the Gaullist Party retained the support of 50.8 per cent of the circulation. In April 1969, despite the defection of numerous provincial titles, the president kept behind him 74.3 per cent of daily sales, as he retained or gained the support of the larger circulation newspapers. This amounted to 4.96 million

60

Table 2.3 Number of Paris-based and provincial daily newspapers in content analysis* supporting or opposing de Gaulle or the Gaullists at the 1958, October 1962 and 1969 referenda, the 1965 presidential election and the 1967 legislative elections 1st referendum, 28/9/1958






Parisian newspapers biased in favour/supporting de Gaulle

8

4

6

6

5

5

Parisian newspapers biased against/opposing de Gaulle

2

6

4

4

4

4

10

6

5

6

4

3

1

5

6

5

7

7

Provincial newspapers biased in favour/supporting de Gaulle Provincial newspapers biased against/opposing de Gaulle

* Comprising 22 leading newspapers, representing 65 per cent of the total in circulation.

Table 2.4 Number and percentage of daily newspapers in content analysis* supporting or opposing de Gaulle or the Gaullists at the 1958, October 1962 and 1969 referenda, the 1965 presidential election and the 1967 legislative elections 1st referendum, 28/9/1958






Number of titles biased in favour/supporting de Gaulle

18

10

11

12

9

8

Number of titles biased against/opposing de Gaulle

3

11

10

9

11

11

Percentage of titles biased in favour/supporting de Gaulle

85.7

47.6

52.4

57.1

45

42.1

Percentage of titles biased against/opposing de Gaulle

14.3

52.4

47.6

42.9

55

57.9


61

62

Table 2.5 Percentage of daily newspapers in content analysis* in terms of circulation supporting or opposing de Gaulle or the Gaullists at the 1958, October 1962 and 1969 referenda, the 1965 presidential election and the 1967 legislative elections 1st referendum, 28/9/1958






91.5

51.2

77.4

77.4

76.6

73.1

8.5

48.8

22.6

22.6

23.4

26.9

91.4

51.1

34.7

51.8

27.9

75.4

Provincial circulation biased against/opposing de Gaulle

8.6

48.9

65.3

48.3

72.1

24.6

Total circulation biased in favour/supporting de Gaulle

91.4

51.2

55.2

64.1

50.8

74.3

Total circulation biased against/opposing de Gaulle

8.6

48.8

44.8

35.9

49.2

25.7

Parisian circulation biased in favour/supporting de Gaulle Parisian circulation biased against/opposing de Gaulle Provincial circulation biased in favour/supporting de Gaulle



Figure 2.1 Percentage of titles and circulation in content analysis in favour of de Gaulle or the Gaullists at the 1958, October 1962 and 1969 referenda, the 1965 presidential election and the 1967 legislative elections 100 90 80 70 60 50 40 30 20 10 1969

1968

1967

1966

1965

1964

1963

1962

1961

1960

1959

1958

0

Percentage of circulation in favour of de Gaulle or the Gaullists Percentage of titles in favour of de Gaulle or the Gaullists

copies backing the yes vote at the referendum, against 1.71 million copies supporting the opposition. Figure 2.2 shows that press support and voting patterns coincide during the de Gaulle presidency. The graph shows a decline in support in the presidency’s first four years and then stabilization around 50 per cent, excepting the surge in circulation in April 1969 due to the renewed support of large circulation newspapers. October 1962 was the only occasion when press support dropped below voting figures both in terms of percentage of titles and circulation. Conversely, press support for de Gaulle was higher than voting figures on two crucial occasions: the 1965 presidential election and the 1969 referendum. In April 1969, the percentage of supporting titles stood below voting figures but the percentage of supporting


Figure 2.2 Percentage of titles and circulation in content analysis and votes in favour of de Gaulle or the Gaullists at the 1958, October 1962 and 1969 referenda, the 1965 presidential election and the 1967 legislative elections

1969

1968

1967

1966

1965

1964

1963

1962

1961

1960

1959

1958

100 90 80 70 60 50 40 30 20 10 0

Percentage of titles in favour of de Gaulle/the Gaullists Percentage of circulation in favour of de Gaulle/the Gaullists Percentage of votes in favour of de Gaulle/the Gaullists

circulation remained well above de Gaulle’s voting score (74.3 per cent as against 46.3 per cent). Thus, the press was fairly supportive of the regime and rarely less so than voters. The president was not the hapless victim of a hostile press, as he and his allies often claimed.21 Press support was not evenly distributed throughout the country; regional differences persisted. Gaullist newspapers were notably in short supply in southern France, where the regime also faced the most virulent left-leaning titles such as La Dépêche du Midi (Toulouse), Sud-Ouest (Bordeaux) and Defferre’s Le Provençal in Marseille. The concentration of titles close to the Left reflected the region’s political map and the Socialists were indeed strongly implanted in the south (Goguel, 1966). Gaullism was a relatively recent political movement and its leadership could not expect to draw throughout the whole country the kind of support enjoyed by parties with old-established networks and clienteles. Poor press support in the south was more than offset by a strong Gaullist press in the east, the north and in Greater Paris.


2.6.2

Dating the discontinuity in press support

These data concomitantly reveal that de Gaulle lost more press support within the first four years of his presidency than he did thereafter. He enjoyed exceptional press support at the beginning, and from 1962 onwards the percentage of supporting titles stabilized at around 50 per cent. In terms of newspaper circulation, the sharpest drop also came during the initial four years, dropping from 91.4 per cent in 1958 to 51.2 per cent in 1962. Thus de Gaulle lost 38 per cent of the titles that initially supported him (40 per cent in terms of circulation) within the first four years. Between 1958 and 1962, this represents a net loss of 2.36 million daily copies. As discussed in the preceding Section, a similar decline can be observed in voting figures. Is it possible to attribute this convergence to press influence on public opinion? It appears unlikely that the Paris-based political press were able to shift votes in any great numbers. These dailies already had known political slants and preached to the converted. The popular titles – France-Soir, Le Parisien Libéré, Paris-Presse and Paris-Jour – may have been more influential because they were not devoid of covert propaganda in favour of the regime (see Section 2.1). Yet, their backing in April 1969 (a combined circulation of 1.94 million daily copies), was not enough to prevent de Gaulle from losing the last referendum. This convergence is unlikely to have been caused by the press following public opinion either. French newspaper proprietors and editors followed their own political agenda or that of the political party they were associated with and were quite impervious to public opinion. They also trusted their own political judgement more than that of their readers. The most likely hypothesis is that the concurrence between press and public opinion was a case of both constituencies reaching similar conclusions independently of each other. The drop in press support and voting figures that occurred in 1962 had several causes. Many people deserted de Gaulle when the Algerian conflict ended, something he had accurately forecast. Those who had fought for Algeria to remain French became his most bitter opponents, taking with them L’Aurore and Combat (see Section 2.1). As the conflict was the very reason of de Gaulle’s return to power, its end heralded the loss of the cross-partisan consensus


that he had benefited from since 1958. The Socialist Party withdrew its backing and this caused de Gaulle the loss of two prominent provincial newspapers that had close ties with the Socialists: Le Dauphiné Libéré and Sud-Ouest. Furthermore, the referendum of October 1962 was a contentious one and de Gaulle earned the mistrust both of a section of the political class as well as the country’s notables. Many among them were deeply suspicious of his attempt to expand the legitimacy of the presidency through universal suffrage and read this move as an attempt to govern without them and, indeed, against them. This caused de Gaulle the loss of France’s two most high-brow daily newspapers: Le Progrès and Le Monde.22 These two titles were among those that expressed the views of the notables and the political class and, on this evidence, it appears that de Gaulle had lost the support of a sizeable section of the political elite seven years before his departure in 1969.23 After 1962 de Gaulle remained sufficiently popular to win the presidential election but the consensus around him as the French leader had evaporated. 2.6.3

The divide between popular and quality newspapers

Another pattern to emerge from the content analysis is a division of opinion between the popular and quality newspapers. As discussed above, de Gaulle did not draw much support from the quality newspapers. France’s two most high-brow newspapers, Le Monde and Le Progrès, turned against him in 1962, as did Combat and L’Aurore. La Croix was neutral and only Le Figaro half-heartedly stood by the president. Nor did he get much support from the two current affairs magazines, L’Express and Le Nouvel Observateur, nor from political periodicals such as Le Canard Enchaîné and Témoignage Chrétien, nor from the intelligentsia’s reviews. There were many amongst the political class, the notables, and the intelligentsia who disliked de Gaulle and this was reflected in the papers they read. By contrast, newspapers with a more popular readership, such as Paris-Jour, Paris-Presse, France-Soir and Le Parisien Libéré backed de Gaulle (see Section 2.1). This is not, however, a case of the opinion of the masses against that of the elites, since the reasons for their support varied from title to title. Emilien Amaury, Le Parisien Libéré’s controller, was Gaullist by conviction. Due credit was given to his allegiance when he was elevated on the president’s honours list to


the highest rank of Legion of Honour in July 1967. Cino del Duca, the owner of Paris-Jour, was Gaullist by convenience and Pierre Lazareff, France-Soir’s influential managing editor and Paris-Presse’s board member, was Gaullist by ambition. Pierre Lazareff’s wish was to penetrate the president’s inner circle and become his communications adviser. He managed to strike a friendship with Prime Minister Pompidou but the doors of the Elysée remained obstinately closed. De Gaulle received Lazareff only once to remonstrate with him over an untypically slanderous article France-Soir had published about the refurbishing of a room in the presidential residence (Courrière, 1995, pp. 707). Unlike Amaury, he had to wait for Pompidou to succeed de Gaulle before getting his name on the president’s honours list. France-Soir and Paris-Presse were both controlled by Hachette, a powerful distribution group whose interests were far too caught up with the state for it to risk the wrath of the government by publishing hostile newspapers. Lazareff’s biographer never implies that Hachette ever tried to influence France-Soir’s editorial line but Lazareff would have shown uncommon naivety if he had not been aware of the situation (Courrière, 1995). If circulation figures were essential to Hachette, it would have been logical to differentiate between its two titles. France-Soir could have remained Gaullist while Paris-Presse could have toned down its enthusiasm for the regime. However, both were staunch supporters of the government, suggesting that extra-journalistic imperatives dictated their editorial policy. There was another difference between the four Gaullist popular dailies and most opposition papers. While the latter were militant in tone and displayed a bellicose rhetoric – some ran a permanent campaign against the regime – the former were more subtle in their support of the government. The Gaullist papers manipulated news selection and treatment rather than publishing inflamed political columns. Their background commentaries, even when expressing a Gaullist viewpoint, were carefully wrapped in the rhetoric of common sense. While opposition newspapers publicized their political convictions and were vociferous in their despair, pro-Gaullist dailies were deliberately more thoughtful in their approach by anticipating the reception of their political coverage. There is no evidence that the Gaullist dailies were successful in influencing


readers (their support in April 1969 did not prevent de Gaulle from losing the referendum), but it mattered less for them to show off their Gaullist credentials than to try to have an impact on the electorate. 2.6.4

Concluding remark

The press was not all out to get de Gaulle, as he and his allies claimed. The president did not draw much support from the quality press but retained that of popular papers and a section of the provincial press until 1969. Press support declined sharply in 1962 and this fall was in line with voting figures. More often than not the press was more supportive of the government than of the electorate. A free press is not accountable to the government for its political opinions, but for de Gaulle, as Chapter 3 will show, this lack of allegiance was one of the reasons why he chose to be wary of newspapers and journalists.

3 The President and the Press

This chapter analyses the relationship between de Gaulle and the press from the president’s point of view. Section 3.1 documents his public and private comments on the press. Section 3.2 examines the relationship between de Gaulle and journalists; the access of correspondents to the president and his entourage; and the role of his press secretary. Section 3.3 seeks to understand the sources of de Gaulle’s conflictual relationship with journalists and aversion for the press.

3.1 3.1.1

De Gaulle’s comments on the press De Gaulle’s memoirs

The reading of de Gaulle’s War Memoirs and Memoirs of Hope reveals how the French leader’s dislike for the print media was deeply rooted. In the course of five volumes the press is mentioned 72 times. In total, 17 of these remarks can be judged as neutral1 and five as positive towards the press; the remainder being either derogatory comments on sharp criticisms. De Gaulle complains about the hostility of the press and the critical attitude of journalists towards himself and his government on 32 occasions.2 He rebukes the press for its partisanship and close links to political parties on 30 occasions.3 Ten references bemoan the lack of support his endeavours draw from the press4 and a further two the lack of objectivity of newspapers.5 Of the five positive remarks, three concern British newspapers and one the Latin American press.6 Only once did de 69


Gaulle express some satisfaction with the French press and his compliments were restricted to the handful of editors and journalists who had backed his pre-war crusade for the mechanization of the French army.7 The following extracts from the first volume of his Memoirs of Hope – Renewal illustrate de Gaulle’s views on the press. In the first quotation, the French leader reflects on the period of his return to power in 1958 and the absence of dangers both within and outside the nation: In these circumstances, how propitious the age was to all the centrifugal claims of the vested interests of the moment – the parties, the rich, the trade unions, the press – to the utopian illusions of those who would replace our action in the world by international self-effacement, to the corrosive denigration of so many people in business, journalistic, intellectual and social circles now that they were delivered from their terrors! In short, it was in a time in which all sides were drawn towards mediocrity that I must bid for greatness. (de Gaulle, 1970a, pp. 39–40; English translation, 1971b, p. 36) The above extract is one of the many passages where de Gaulle ranks the press among the ‘vested interests’ (les féodalités). Other féodalités include the political parties, the trade unions and financiers. In de Gaulle’s view they are consumed by self-interest and conspire against the good of the greatest number and the welfare of the nation. De Gaulle often bemoaned the lack of support he received from the press. The comments below followed a series of presidential initiatives in Algeria in 1959: ‘Needless to say, as usual I received no support whatever from the press, which confined itself to its habitual acrimony, criticism and ratiocination [nit-picking]’ (de Gaulle, 1970a, p. 68; English translation, 1971b, p. 63). Presidential press coverage was another source of grievance for de Gaulle. In the following passage, he complains about the reporting of one of his trips to Algeria in March 1960: For I intended the journey to have an exclusively military character. But this was to reckon without the faculty for invention and

The President and the Press 71

interpretation of the press. In accordance with its all-too-frequent propensity to consider every event on the lowest level and for its story value, it dubbed General de Gaulle’s contacts with the fighting forces a ‘tour of the messes’. […] But the tendentious reporting of my visit momentarily created some political and journalistic ebullition and provoked warlike declarations on the part of the leaders of the National Liberation Front which added a few extra thorns to the asperities of my task. (de Gaulle, 1970a, p. 92; English translation, 1971b, p. 86) The above quote illustrates de Gaulle’s perception of the press as a nuisance to the exercise of power, their outbursts adding to the hardships of his task. In the same volume he explains how he kept journalists at bay: To tell the truth, although I sometimes resented the hostile coalition of caucuses and scribblers, it did not affect me very profoundly. I knew that there is nothing that paper will not print or the microphone transmit. I knew how much the provocative phrase tempts the professional stylist. I knew the extent to which the new institutions, my presence at the head of the State, my way of conducting affairs, had reduced the power and influence of certain groups which had been dominant under the former regime and were mortified at having lost their position. I knew, in particular, how much they resented the distance at which, not out of disdain but on principle, I felt obliged to keep them. When their rancor overstepped all bounds I consoled myself by repeating the words which Corneille puts into the mouth of Octave: ‘What! You expect to be spared when you yourself have spared no one!’ (de Gaulle, 1970a, p. 312; English translation, 1971b, pp. 298–9) One of de Gaulle’s most revealing tirades against the press comes in the last volume of Memoirs of Hope – Endeavour as he recalls the October 1962 referendum: The latter [the opposition], indeed, in denouncing de Gaulle’s ‘arbitrary’ behaviour and the alleged infringement of the Constitution by the resort to a referendum, enjoyed the support


of the press in a way that was frequently blatant, sometimes veiled, but on the whole determined. Almost all the Parisian and provincial newspapers sought to persuade public opinion and the electorate to reject my proposal. They did so either by declaring themselves openly in favour of voting ‘No’ or by publishing prominently the views of the spokesmen of the hostile political groups and unions, or by exclusively calling attention to the opinions of politically committed jurists, stuck fast in the notion of the parliamentary system such as it existed when they had read their law, or by producing more and more disparaging appraisals, anecdotes and caricatures concerning me. In the long run I had become impervious to this attitude on the part of the press. I realized, moreover, that in view of the contumacious, resentful and jaundiced climate of opinion characteristic of our time, criticism of government must seem a priori more expedient and more profitable to publishers and editors than support for an arduous and ambitious national enterprise. I realized that those whose job it was to deal with ‘news’ had personal reasons for regretting the departure of the previous regime which, far more than the present one, provided them with contacts, preferment and influence. I realized, also, that as far as [I] myself was concerned, although I read the newspapers and listened to the radio, although I always took an interest in the talents displayed there, although I used the pen and the microphone as much as anyone, it was part of my nature and a precept of my office invariably to keep distance, an attitude which did not endear me to the professionals of the media. Yet, armored though I was against their arrows, I was none the less pained by their excesses – for instance, when the journalists of the radio and television service joined in the demonstrations of disapproval which had been mounted against me, by declaring a strike a few days before the ballot. They, too, complained of injustice, on the grounds that [the] broadcasting time allocated to the parties in the referendum campaign was inadequate. Yet these same people had not raised the slightest protest when for more than twelve years, the governments of the day had kept de Gaulle off the air. Truly it was high time to prove that all the political, professional and journalistic vested interests added together did not


express the will of the people, any more than they defended its collective interests. That so many men of so many different kinds, by no means lacking in merit, having lived through the atrocious confusion of the recent past, should wish to return to a regime which they knew was disastrous; that having witnessed the country’s evident revival they should do their utmost to halt its progress and set it once more on the downward path; that having seen, heard and known General de Gaulle for a quarter of a century and, whatever schools of thought they belonged to, participated in his national effort at one time or another, and even in some cases been members of his government, they should show nothing but mistrust and aversion towards him as soon as they were no longer afraid – all these were facts which naturally saddened me but nevertheless strengthened my determination. Rationally as well as humanly, the success of their coalition would be fatal to the State and unworthy of France. (de Gaulle, 1971a, pp. 80–3; English translation, 1971b, pp. 320–3) De Gaulle’s most common accusations against the press and journalists appear in the preceding passage. He stigmatizes the press for its alleged coalition with the opposition and depicts himself and his government as being under siege from a wholly hostile press. His comments reveal that while he admits the concept of a free press he does not comprehend all its consequences. Neither does he come to terms with the fact that newspapers are independent and some of them may side with the opposition. De Gaulle sees the interests of the press and those of the nation as opposite to each other. The press is a vested interest that defends its own stakes and never those of the country. De Gaulle concludes from this premise that the press is unpatriotic and ‘unworthy of France’, a charge that often surfaced in his private conversations (see below). The fact that these criticisms feature so prominently in his memoirs show that he intended to leave future generations with no possible doubts about his feelings towards the press. 3.1.2

Public comments

During the course of his presidency de Gaulle made several public comments about the press, four of them being particularly disparaging. The first outburst came at the press conference of 14 January


1963 when he poured scorn on the press because of its criticisms of recent constitutional changes: Of course, one should not expect the professionals of nostalgia, disparagement and bitterness to give up […] sweating gall, throwing up bile and spilling vinegar. (de Gaulle, 1970e, p. 63) A second charge came during a press conference on 8 January 1966, following weeks of newspaper speculation about the Ben Barka affair. De Gaulle denied any involvement of the government in the abduction of the Moroccan opponent in Paris and accused the press of fabrication. He declared that journalists were taking advantage of readers’ taste for mystery plots and ‘James Bond’ movies, adding that by exploiting a story that had no real significance for the country, too many newspapers had deserted the ‘honour of the ship’ (de Gaulle, 1970f, p. 16). The last statement caused much outrage in the next day’s press. De Gaulle’s relationship with the press reached an all-time low following his impromptu declaration on the balcony of the City Hall of Montréal on 24 July 1967 (de Gaulle, 1970f, pp. 191–2). Newspapers reacted with hostility to his ‘Vive le Québec libre!’ but de Gaulle riposted at once. Two days later, back at the City Hall of Montréal for a reception, he lashed out against the press, telling his audience that ‘everything that scrawls, swarms and scribbles has no historical relevance in these great circumstances, today and forever’ (de Gaulle, 1970f, p. 197). De Gaulle intended to have the last word on the affair and came back to it at a press conference on 27 November 1967. Following a long peroration on French Canada he quoted Paul Valéry, who deplored the paucity of the national curriculum on the issue and added with sarcasms: ‘Ah! What would he have said about our press, if he had lived long enough to read what so many newspapers have published on the trip of General de Gaulle to the French people of Canada!’ (de Gaulle, 1970f, pp. 239–40). Such remarks are another testimony to de Gaulle’s feelings about the press. Three of these statements were made at press conferences; every word had been pondered, and it took him up to a month to prepare and learn by heart the text that he would recite in front of the cameras (see Section 7.2). The French leader did not hesitate to


antagonize journalists publicly and had no fear of their alleged power. 3.1.3

Private conversations

Privately, de Gaulle was even more scathing against the press.8 One of his most recurrent charges concerned journalists’ lack of patriotism and he often accused them of being in the pocket of the British and the Americans: The press is at the Americans’ heels. The great majority of newspapers incline to the prejudice of the Fourth Republic. To belittle, demean, humiliate oneself, to bow down, that is their ideal. To give up national security, give up one’s own economy, take on others’ foreign policies, that is fantastic, that is irreproachable. Since France is independent, the international press reviles us! (in Peyrefitte, 1997, p. 104) De Gaulle reserved his most vicious invectives for Le Figaro and Le Monde. He held Le Figaro in great contempt9 and even though he had more respect for Le Monde, it too could provoke his anger.10 When the reading of Le Monde raised his temper, he would brandish the paper between his thumb and forefinger and ask his visitor: ‘Have you read this rag?’ (in Sainderichin, 1990, p. 157). De Gaulle associated these papers with the bourgeoisie, with whom he had an uneasy relationship: Your journalists [talking to Peyrefitte] seem, in common with the French bourgeoisie, to have lost any sense of national pride. […] French Revolution has not brought the French people to power but this artificial class that is the bourgeoisie. This class has become increasingly depraved, to the point of betraying their own country. […] In truth, there are two bourgeoisies. The moneyed bourgeoisie, who read Le Figaro, and the intellectual bourgeoisie, who read Le Monde. They form a pair that understand each other [in order] to share power. It is none of my business that your journalists are against me. It would even annoy me if they were not. I would be aggrieved,


do you hear me?! The day when Le Figaro and L’Immonde11 support me would be a national catastrophe! (in Peyrefitte, 1994b, pp. 387–8) All these accusations came to one when he returned from Canada at the end of July 1967. He rarely felt more incensed by the press than following its reaction to his declaration on Free Québec: Of course, when one takes the defence of France and one says that France exists, all the tenth-rate hacks write immediately: ‘How come someone [is] defending France? But France is nothing, it is a small country, what a pretence!’ [This] is ridiculous, it is ignoble and it is infamous. But all this has no importance. This is why, from the beginning, I have stuck a label in their back, calling them the scribblers. You know, when I said ‘everything that scrawls, swarms and scribbles’, well, that was for them and they were not mistaken. […] This affair will give this vile and infamous press [an] opportunity to write articles. They are at the feet and boots of the Americans, the Israelis and all the others, but above all they do not support France because they are ashamed of speaking about France and of defending their country. […] [T]hat the Americans are furious […] that the British are incensed and foaming at the mouth, is normal. But that these imbeciles from Le Monde, Le Figaro and others are terrorized because Washington is unhappy, because London raises eyebrows, is pathetic! One can no longer take the side of France in France without being immediately finger-pointed by these guys who are scum. (in Foccart, 1997, pp. 684–5) 3.1.4

Conclusion

It transpires from de Gaulle’s comments on the press that he judged newspapers according to their performance vis-à-vis his leadership, his government and his definition of national interest. On the whole, he expected an unrealistic kind of support from a free press and was not always fair in his accusations against journalists. De Gaulle respected the freedom of the press but he did not accept all its implications. His government never infringed on press freedom outside the context of the Algerian war and state subsidies


to newspapers were maintained at a very generous level during the 1960s (see Chapter 1). State aid was fairly distributed and contributed to preserving the pluralism of the French press. A number of radical and overtly politicized newspapers would have closed down had the Gaullist government restrained the amount of state funding made available to them.12

3.2

Relationship with journalists

De Gaulle kept journalists at arm’s length. He did not try to entice them, manipulate them or win them over with exclusive interviews, revelations and invitations to dinner parties. In contrast with most French politicians, de Gaulle did not have close contacts with newspaper proprietors, editors and leading journalists. He had no industry people in his inner circle, and none of them were to be found among his advisers and confidants. De Gaulle repeatedly warned his long-term Minister of Information and government spokesman, Alain Peyrefitte, against having a too-close relationship with journalists. He let him know in June 1962: ‘I have heard that you get on well with journalists. It’s a bad sign’ (Peyrefitte, 1994b, p. 223). He made similar remarks to his press officer, Gilbert Pérol, responsible for the hundred or so of French and foreign correspondents accredited to the presidency. Pérol wrote that de Gaulle ‘wanted to ignore that he had a press officer’. When he introduced Pérol to foreign heads of state, he never mentioned him as press secretary (Pérol, 1976, p. 17). Pérol admitted that he knew little about the president and that he was able to give very little news to journalists. ‘In truth’, he wrote, ‘I did not have anything to say and in fact I was even enjoined not to say anything’ (ibid., p. 18). He improvised a role for himself and instead of breaking news to journalists, he commented upon the events, as he wrote, ‘helping myself with what I could know of the context’ (ibid.). Peyrefitte tried to change de Gaulle’s approach to the press and suggested that he should try to ‘seduce’ journalists rather than ‘reduce’ them. De Gaulle answered that he would ‘neither reduce or seduce them’ but ‘treat them with the contempt they deserve’ (Alain Peyrefitte, interview, 4 May 1999). Indeed, he kept a distant rela-


tionship with journalists throughout his presidency. He refused to have close contacts with any of them, never divulged any information directly to them and never communicated to the public through them. Journalists were simply not part of his communications strategy. Nor did de Gaulle let journalists invade his privacy. The Elysée press service was showered with requests for pictures in private settings, such as his residence at Colombey-les-deux-églises. De Gaulle rejected these calls because he did not want to enter into the logic of journalists and play their game. De Gaulle disliked interviews. It is almost certain that during his entire presidency, he only gave three press interviews to journalists. The first was to Hubert Beuve-Méry, Le Monde’s managing director, on 18 September 1958; the second was to Pierre Laffont, director of L’Echo d’Oran, in Algeria, in April 1959, and the third was to Jean Ferniot, journalist at France-Soir, early in 1968 (BeuveMéry, 1974, pp. 10–13; Le Progrès, 14 December 1965; Ferniot, 1991, pp. 314–18).13 De Gaulle met reporters on formal occasions, when he could be warm and welcoming, but also frankly inimical at the same time. The closing remark of his address at the 1964 New Year Eve reception for the Elysée correspondents was not the most tactful: It is for you a dilemma. As good French citizens you wish for a quiet and peaceful year for our country, but as journalists you can’t help but hope for some mud, some difficulties and dramas that will help you write articles. (in Foccart, 1997, p. 35) At the same event a year later, de Gaulle was distant again. When asked by the correspondents whether a ceremony would inaugurate his new tenure (following the presidential election in December 1965), he replied as follows: ‘I have no idea, because it is the first time a president of the Republic is elected by universal suffrage and succeeds to himself’ (in Foccart, 1997, p. 312). Twelve months later, at the New Year Eve party in 1966, the president and his guests were barely on speaking terms, and he abruptly told his audience: ‘What you write is forgotten the following day, and I have taken so much for thirty years that to have the press against me does not change a thing for me one way or the other’ (in


Foccart, 1997, p. 538). Thus, de Gaulle could be antagonistic with journalists even when entertaining them. It was one way of letting them know that he did not need them and did not expect their help. 3.2.1

Charles de Gaulle and Hubert Beuve-Méry

De Gaulle’s relationship with Hubert Beuve-Méry, Le Monde’s managing director, ranks among the most striking illustrations of the French leader’s handling of journalists. Beuve-Méry met de Gaulle only twice in 25 years as managing director of Le Monde (1944–1969). The first meeting took place in January 1945, barely a month after the launch of Le Monde. On this occasion, BeuveMéry’s request to attend a weekly meeting with government officials in charge of information was turned down (Beuve-Méry, 1974, p. 7). The second meeting took place on 18 September 1958. De Gaulle began the interview on a sarcastic note, saying how entertaining he found the reading of Le Monde. When his interviewer retorted that it was not the aim pursued by the paper, de Gaulle moved on to the next point. Ever since Le Monde supported the referendum for the constitution of the Fourth Republic on 13 October 1946, the president said, ‘I knew that you were not one of mine’ (ibid., p. 10). Then Beuve-Méry told de Gaulle in thinly veiled terms that if one day he would consider Le Monde to be an obstacle to his leadership, he would face the consequences and offer his resignation. De Gaulle declined the offer and added: ‘you know that I am in favour of the freedom of the press’ (ibid., pp. 10–11). Although they never met privately again, their last brief public encounter was no less telling an episode. In June 1960, Beuve-Méry was among the guests at a reception organized by the President of the Constitutional Council. As de Gaulle and his entourage were making their way through the reception hall of the Palais-Royal, he spotted Beuve-Méry among the guests watching the procession and slipped him a few words about his last leading article. Le Monde’s managing director took advantage of the encounter to request another meeting. De Gaulle rejected it with the following words: ‘What for? You know my ideas and I know yours!’ (ibid., p. 13). As de Gaulle was on his way, he stepped back and added to a bemused Beuve-Méry: ‘And you are like Mephisto […] you remember, when


Mephisto says to Faust: “Ich bin der Geist, der stets verneint [I am the spirit who always negates]”’ (ibid.). Beuve-Méry could be forgiven if he experienced this brief exchange as a public humiliation. To conclude, de Gaulle had a poor opinion of journalists and an equally poor relationship with them. He ignored them rather than sought to manipulate them, and rather than try to speak their language, he preferred not to include them in his overall communications plan.

3.3

Origins of de Gaulle’s opinion on the press

De Gaulle’s lack of sympathy for the press had several causes. The first was de Gaulle’s knowledge of the corrupt past of the French press. During the Third Republic, French journalists and newspapers received money from ministries, political parties, financial institutions and foreign embassies. According to an estimate, between 1871 and 1913, the French government spent between one and two million FFr. a year to influence journalists (Bellanger et al., 1972, pp. 249–50). Newspaper proprietors, editors and journalists accepted bribes from bankers and financiers to induce the public to buy shares of companies in disastrous financial situations. The most notorious of these financial scandals was the Panama affair, when the press received tens of millions to conceal the real state of affairs of the company that was building the canal (Boussel, 1960, pp. 15–16). Foreign embassies paid French newspapers to distort and conceal information. All the prominent titles, including Le Temps, Le Journal des Débats, Le Figaro and Le Gaulois, as well as the news agency Havas, received money from countries such as Italy, Spain, Greece, Belgium, Austria, Germany, Bulgaria, Yugoslavia, Romania and Russia (Kitsikis, 1968, pp. 514–17; Bellanger et al., 1972, pp. 501–9; Bariéty, 1972). A single paper, Le Temps -– the French equivalent, allegedly, of The Times – received money from five different countries, including Germany, as late as the 1930s (Kitsikis, 1968, p. 521). Russia was the most generous nation, distributing millions to French journalists between the 1880s and the 1900s to buy their silence over the calamitous situation of the country in order not to scare off French investors from the Russian bonds market


(Jeanneney, 1975; Martin, 1997, pp. 159–70; Delporte, 1999, pp. 140–57). De Gaulle, in common with many of his contemporaries, ignored none of this venality. He once spoke of the ‘envelopes from foreign embassies’ that newspapers ‘regularly’ received until the Second World War and mentioned archives that prove that ‘the main Parisian newspapers were lavishly paid by the German Embassy before the War’ (in Peyrefitte, 1994b, p. 389). Later, the French leader came across evidence that corrupt practices had resumed after the Second World War and continued through the Fourth Republic. In 1958, de Gaulle was given a threepage list of journalists who were on the secret payroll of the Prime Minister’s Office. He was told that similar lists existed for the Presidency, the Ministry of the Interior, the Ministry of Finance and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (Poniatowsky, 1997, p. 358). This was not to the taste of the French leader who not only valued integrity but could barely come to terms with legitimate pursuit of financial gains by the press. De Gaulle came into direct contact with the press during the inter-war period although it is not entirely clear what conclusions he drew from the experience. In the 1930s, de Gaulle advocated the establishment of a fully motorized army corps (for example, de Gaulle, (1934) 1971c). His crusade found a favourable echo in a couple of specialized reviews and in three daily newspapers: Le Temps, L’Action française and L’Echo de Paris (Girault and Lejeune, 1970; Albert, 1992).14 The French leader did not fare too badly considering his relative lack of contacts in the government and in the press, but Pierre Albert writes that his failure to attract a wider support for his campaign made him feel ‘a sort of indifference’ towards the press (ibid., p. 31). Despite this, de Gaulle sounded quite pleased in his Memoirs with his first attempt at making an impact on public opinion (de Gaulle, 1954, pp. 19–20). Far more decisive for the shaping of de Gaulle’s opinion on the press was its attitude during the German Occupation, when a sizable proportion of French newspapers continued their activities. De Gaulle took immediate notice, declaring in one of his BBC broadcasts in 1940 that despite ‘the oppression, the martial courts, the ignoble radio and the infamous press’, France was still alive and refusing to collaborate (8 December 1940, in Espoir, September 1992,


p. 1). Once the war was over, even though de Gaulle expressed doubts about the judiciousness of the decrees of September 1944, he did not question the extent of the press overhaul that took place at the Liberation (de Gaulle, 1959, pp. 139–40). De Gaulle’s opinion of the press was also influenced by its low professional standards. He thought that French journalists did not have much respect for truth and that newspapers lacked accuracy and objectivity. He often accused the press of misinterpreting and distorting his words and actions (Pérol, 1976, p. 17; Peyrefitte, 1997, p. 190; Peyrefitte, interview, 4 May 1999).15 Finally, de Gaulle disliked the press because he regarded it as divisive. As seen above, one of his most frequent criticisms concerned the partisanship of newspapers and their connection to political parties. De Gaulle accused parties of being dogmatic16 and blamed the press for being associated with them.17 According to the French leader, these partisan quarrels weakened the nation, and instead of getting involved in political disputes and reveling in the country’s divisions, the press should have worked to reinforce national cohesion and rallied behind the presidential figure.

Part II The Broadcasting Media


4 The State Radio and Television during the Fourth Republic

This chapter outlines the political history of the state broadcaster, Radiodiffusion-télévision française (RTF), during the Fourth Republic (1946–58). The period is relevant to the de Gaulle era because there are similarities in the way the successive governments of the Fourth and Fifth Republic handled the state broadcasting organization. Several of the problems that affected RTF in the 1960s can be traced back to the Fourth Republic.

4.1 The development of television in the 1940s and 1950s After the Second World War, broadcasting was resumed on 13 October 1945 at the rate of one hour per day. The service increased to 12 hours per week in October 1947, to 22 hours by the end of 1949 and had reached 46 hours in 1956. Television ownership grew steadily, from 3794 units in 1950 to a little under a million in 1958. Television, however, was not yet a mass medium, as only 6.1 per cent of households possessed a set by the end of 1957 (see Appendix 4).1 Broadcasting techniques were progressing rapidly. On 5 June 1947, for the first time, a programme was broadcast from outside the television studios, and on 25 July of the following year, the finish of the last stage of the Tour de France in Paris was broadcast live (Michel, 1995, p. 11). The first news bulletin was broadcast on 29 June 1949. The news broadcast was officially launched on 2 October of the same year, scheduled every evening at 9 pm and 85


lasted for 20 minutes. The news reports were narrated by a voiceover, until the first newsreaders appeared in November 1954 (Lustière, 1999, pp. 43–9). In the early 1950s three main genres dominated the French television schedule. Firstly, there were the newscasts and documentaries – broadcast both within and outside the news bulletins. The second genre was the variety show, epitomized by La Piste aux étoiles, and usually broadcast live from a Parisian theatre (Corset et al., 1982, pp. 3–28; Brochand, 1994, pp. 392–5). Thirdly, there was the single play drama – ‘les dramatiques’ – which became a benchmark of early French television. The first dramas, broadcast in the late 1940s from Parisian theatres, were rapidly adapted for television and staged in studios to be broadcast live. At first, plays were taken from the classical repertory but the genre progressively opened to texts specifically written for television, vaudevilles and plays from the avant-garde. Drama production was done on a large scale: more than 100 dramas were produced on average per year at the television studios of ‘les Buttes-Chaumont’ between the mid-1950s and the mid-1960s (Sicard, 1999, p. 69). Single play drama was essentially a high-brow television genre. Television directors (notably Jean d’Arcy, Director of Programmes from 1952 to 1959, and André Frank, head of drama production) and producers (including Claude Barma, Marcel Bluwal, Stellio Lorenzi and Claude Loursais) aimed at giving as wide an adience as possible the opportunity to become acquainted with theatrical masterpieces of the French and European cultural heritage (Sicard, 1999, pp. 65–9).2

4.2

The national broadcaster as a Government Agency

The Fourth Republic was marked by political instability. From January 1947, when the first government of the Fourth Republic took office, until June 1958, 22 different ministers or secretaries of state who carried authority over radio and television were appointed by 20 different governments. This instability had a negative impact on the development of the state broadcaster. The Vichy regulation was made null and void by decree on 9 August 1944 and the state monopoly on broadcasting was passed on

Radio and Television during the Fourth Republic 87

23 March 1945. The monopoly was conferred on the state broadcaster, whose name was changed from RDF (Radiodiffusion française) to RTF (Radiodiffusion-télévision française) on 9 February 1949. RTF was never granted a proper statute during the Fourth Republic and remained part of the governmental administration until 1959. RTF employees were civil servants and could hold a position within the government, as indeed some of them did. Around 17 bills were put forward for discussion at the National Assembly. Those proposed by the opposition aimed at conferring more independence on the state broadcaster, but those that emanating from the parliamentary majority (the Socialists handed in three propositions in June 1947, July 1955 and July 1956), would have reinforced, had they become law, the grip of the government over the state broadcaster. None of these propositions were actually discussed by the National Assembly. In many cases, the government was ousted before the project came up for parliamentary debate. Coalition parties also realized that the lack of a legal text guaranteeing the independence of the RTF made it easier for them to keep control over the state broadcaster. Thus, ministers of information successively argued the case against the need for such a statute. François Mitterrand, Secretary of State for Information between July 1948 and October 1949, was particularly vociferous in this sense, and the following statement, made at the Assembly in July 1949, was widely quoted before its author became President of the Republic in 1981: ‘It is said that the creation of a Radio Office would guarantee freedom of expression. But this is inexact. Among those who have the authority to speak to the nation and to the world, aren’t primarily those who represent our democratic institutions?’ (in Montaldo, 1974, p. 40; Olivesi, 1998, pp. 118–21). Radio was the most prominent broadcasting medium and television only gradually became involved in politics. A landmark for television was the first-time coverage of the parliamentary proceedings towards the election of the President of the Republic in December 1953. After six days of bickering and altercations (13 ballots were necessary to elect René Coty), the broadcast was interrupted when politicians realized it was damaging their reputation. The episode made them aware of the dangers, and power, of television, and made them want to get a grip on it (Bernard, 1961; Cohen, 1999, pp. 35–6).


A second defining moment came in February 1956 when television broadcasts showed crowd disorder in Algiers. These images reflected poorly on the authority of the French government and opened up an era of tight control over the state broadcaster. That same year, Guy Mollet, the head of government, realized the benefits he could gain from television. He realized that it was ideally suited to communicate directly with the electorate and he began to use it regularly (Cohen, 1999, p. 30). The tight governmental control over the RTF during the Fourth Republic had four main consequences on the output of the national broadcaster; these are outlined below. Biased information RTF journalists received instructions continually and were forced to toe the government line at all times. There was a notorious black notebook placed on a stand in the middle of the newsroom in which journalists registered the instructions from the Secretariat of State for Information for their colleagues preparing the next news bulletin (Baudrier, 1994, p. 194). According to Gaullist Deputy MaxPetit, a first-hand witness, these instructions were extremely specific. They set out in great detail the treatment that should be given to the main news items and listed the issues to avoid (Journal Officiel (J.O.) Assemblée Nationale, 14 June 1963, p. 3413). On one occasion, for instance, a news item about de Gaulle had to be treated in no more than two lines of script, and, following a mass rally where three protesters were killed by the police, journalists were not allowed to specify that they were strikers and that they died by bullets (J.O. Assemblée Nationale, 26 May 1964, p. 1411; Brochand, 1994, p. 62). The RTF received especially strict guidelines during every major foreign crisis, including the war in South-East Asia, the Franco-British expedition in Suez in 1956 and the Algerian conflict. The government slant on information is illustrated by the following incident, which took place at the RTF in the dying days of the Fourth Republic. A mass rally had just been organized in support of the government and the two protagonists negotiated the actual number of participants: News editor: Journalist:

You’ll talk about 250 000 demonstrators No Sir, I’ll give the police estimate, 70 000


News editor: Journalist: News editor: Journalist: New editor: Journalist: News editor: Journalist:

250 000 70 000 Come on, say at least 200 000 I am willing to go up to 85 000 175 000, no less 97 000, no more Come on, let’s compromise on 150 000 125 000 (reported in Frédéric, 1968, p. 14)

Censorship The second consequence of the subordinate position of the RTF visà-vis the government was censorship. Certain facts and issues were not to be mentioned on the national airwaves. To prevent any mishap, news and information were placed under close surveillance and submitted to party censorship. Guy Mollet made the following request to the Secretary of State for Information in 1956: You absolutely cannot trust the existing radio and television teams […] therefore it is necessary for party comrades to be given the task of reading in advance news reports of radio bulletins every morning before 7 am, and television bulletins every evening before 8 pm, and to place them under their responsibility. (in Cohen, 1999, p. 38) There was an additional post-production censorship and on some occasions entire sequences were cut from the newscasts (ibid.). These measures were not confined to the news. In March 1956 the government gave orders to stop the press review because, according to a memo, it focused too much on criticisms at a time when the government needed as much public support as possible (Mercier, 1996, p. 36). Government officials screened the full range of programmes, from variety shows to documentaries. It was even claimed that a centrist Minister of Information vetted the choice of books reviewed at a leading literary programme (Lazareff, 1962, p. 11). Other cases of censorship abound. Two radio shows, both featuring political debates, and a political broadcast, were discontinued by government order in the mid-1950s (Cohen, 1999).


Offenders were dealt with severely. In September 1956 Jacques Sallebert, the RTF’s permanent correspondent in London was sacked within a day of airing an interview of a Labour MP (Kenneth Younger) who was hostile to the Suez expedition. Sallebert was reinstated two weeks later, after RTF journalists threatened to launch a strike and reveal other embarrassing incidents. The episode is significant considering that Sallebert simply intended to be fair, as an interview with a Conservative MP was to follow that of Kenneth Younger (Sallebert, 1975, pp. 154–60). In March 1957, Pierre Corval, an RTF director and journalist, was dismissed because the four political scientists invited to his radio talk show to discuss the previous parliamentary elections allegedly overlooked the Socialists and focused on peripheral political parties (Montaldo, 1974, pp. 96–7, 104–5). In many other instances, journalists decided to leave the RTF following arbitrary political decisions that affected their work. Above all, this system bred self-censorship. The harassment, threats and admonitions from state officials meant that RTF personnel became anxious to stay clear of controversial issues. Countless topics were taboo and sensitive issues were silenced. Many journalists owed their jobs to political patronage and their careers depended on politicians’ whims, all things that encouraged them to try to anticipate their injunctions. Restricted access to RTF The third consequence of the government grip over the RTF was that the opposition, primarily the Gaullists and the Communists, was virtually denied access to the broadcaster. On 2 April 1947, soon after de Gaulle had launched his political party (the RPF, Rassemblement pour le peuple français), the head of government, Paul Ramadier, made the journey secretly and by night to de Gaulle’s residence in Colombey to let him know that since he had become a party leader, he would no longer have access to the national airwaves (Peyrefitte, 1994a, p. 103). Subsequently, senior Gaullists were so rarely invited to express their views that many of them boycotted the RTF altogether. De Gaulle himself was blanked out by the state broadcaster. No RTF cameras were present at de Gaulle’s crucial press conference on 19 May 1958 when he announced his willingness to return to power, a press conference that was filmed by an ‘Anglo-Saxon’ television crew (ibid.).


Even on 1 June 1958, when he was elected head of government by the National Assembly, the evening news bulletin did not devote more than one minute to his election (Cohen, 1999, p. 39). Faced with this exclusion, the Communists proved themselves more resourceful than the Gaullists and managed to elude it by broadcasting from radio stations in Prague, Warsaw, Moscow, Budapest and Sofia. A 1954 poll showed that at times these programmes attracted at times an audience of 11 million, a 28 per cent share of the listening public (Montaldo, 1974, pp. 28–30). Propaganda The strong hold of the government over the RTF offered the possibility for the coalition parties to use it for propaganda purposes. Firstly, there were programmes that were commissioned by ministers and that praised their work. As the government was frequently criticized for running them, Albert Gazier, three times Secretary of State for Information during the Fourth Republic, answered these critics by creating a specious distinction between the two forms of propaganda. On the one hand, there was the propaganda of a Goebbels, which pandered to ‘passions’ and ‘primal instincts’ and, on the other hand, there was the propaganda that ‘addresses reason and that celebrates national achievements’. This was the propaganda broadcast by the RTF and that should be produced by ‘every journalist, film maker, writer, citizen […] proud to be part of a nation that has just achieved a prodigious effort’ (in Montaldo, 1974, p. 55). The second range of programmes was made up of anti-Communist propaganda. Starting in 1950, these biweekly broadcasts had actors mimicking scenes of everyday life in the Soviet Union. These programmes were so virulently against communism that an American journalist was quoted in a parliamentary debate claiming that Voice of America was tame by comparison (Olivesi, 1998, p. 120). These broadcasts were criticized by the Communists and others who thought them unworthy of a democratic country – but to no avail.

Thus, during the Fourth Republic, the national broadcaster remained closely controlled by government. In 1958, the Gaullists


inherited an organization that had absolutely no autonomy from the regime and from which they had been excluded. Unsurprisingly, once in power, one of their first tasks would be to launch a broadcasting reform.

5 The National Broadcaster during the de Gaulle Presidency

This chapter examines the national broadcaster during the de Gaulle presidency. Section 5.1 analyses the reforms of 1959 and 1964 and their impact on the national broadcaster. Section 5.2 focuses on the affair of La Caméra explore le temps that broke out in spring 1965; Section 5.3 gives an account of the political struggles surrounding the national broadcaster that took place between 1965 and 1968. Section 5.4 relates the unfolding of the May 1968 crisis at the offices of the national broadcaster. This institution was itself among the stakes at play during the students’ and workers’ revolt and in addition was in the throes of its very own internal crisis. The 1960s are widely considered to be a crucial period for French television since it was during this decade that television became a mass medium. The percentage of households with a television set rose from 6.1 per cent in 1957 to 70.4 per cent in 1970; it reached a total of nearly 11 million by the end of 1970 (see Appendix 4). The second channel was launched in April 1964; colour was introduced in October 1967 and commercials in October 1968. By 1965, the first channel covered most of the national territory, followed by the second channel in 1970. The programming hours doubled between 1958 and 1969, increasing from 2451 hours per year to 5980 hours for both channels (Bourdon, 1990, p. 307). During the 1960s, the state broadcasting organization’s revenue more than quadrupled, reaching 2.07 billion FFr. in 1970. The permanent staff grew from 5000 in 1958 to 14 000 in 1970 (Michel, 1995, p. 42). It was also 93


during this time that television became a political force to be reckoned with, making the issues of control and access more acute than ever.

5.1 5.1.1

The broadcasting reforms The 1959 reform

André Malraux was the first Minister of Information of the Gaullist government, appointed two days after de Gaulle’s investiture as head of government on 3 June 1958. Malraux remained in the post only five weeks (Foulon, 1997, p. 19), and it fell to his successor, Jacques Soustelle, to implement the changes requested by the new regime: to side-step and dismiss journalists; to appoint Gaullist supporters to senior positions; to suppress existing programmes and impose new ones. Soon after his appointment, Jacques Soustelle, with the help of Christian Chavanon, the new RTF General Secretary, began to prepare a plan for the reform of the state broadcaster. By October, they had put together a project which aimed to confer more independence on RTF. However, de Gaulle and the Cabinet rejected it. The next Minister of Information, Roger Frey, appointed in January 1959, presented a far less liberal reform. It was accepted by the Cabinet on 4 February and published as an ordinance on 11 February (Ordinance no. 59-273, Journal Officiel (J.O.) Lois et décrets, 11 February 1959, pp. 1859–60). The key points were as follows: 1. The Radiodiffusion-télévision française (RTF) is defined as a ‘state and public establishment of industrial and commercial character’. It is placed under the ‘authority of the minister responsible for information’ (Article 1). 2. The RTF is granted the exclusive use of the state broadcasting network and is the recipient of the radio and television licence fee (Article 2). 3. The Director General, the deputy directors and directors are appointed by Cabinet decree (Article 5). 4. The RTF personnel lose their civil servant status (Article 6). 5. The RTF must obtain prior approval from the Ministry of Finance for most expenses (Articles 7 and 11).

The National Broadcaster during the de Gaulle Presidency 95

The ordinance contained no clauses that would be susceptible to a relaxing of the relationship between the government and the national broadcaster. The decree also renewed the state broadcasting monopoly and maintained the double authority of the Ministry of Information and Ministry of Finance over the RTF. It remained vague and non-committal, however, on several points, notably on the matter of a much-needed status for RTF journalists. Considering the government’s options when drafting the ordinance, the Cabinet opted for the most conservative ones. The law fell below the expectations of many observers; it also fell short of what the previous project had suggested. For instance, it did not retain the idea of a board to balance the authority of the Director General, nor did it retain the proposal for a committee to audit the fairness and the objectivity of the RTF. It protected the status quo and ultimately retained the power of the government over the state broadcaster. This reform opened an era of discontent. Within days of its publication the two main unions of RTF journalists, the RTF sections of CGT-FO (Confédération générale du travail – Force ouvrière) and CFTC (Confédération française des travailleurs chrétiens) criticized the lack of financial independence, the absence of an organ of control monitoring objectivity and impartiality and the lack of commitment about a status for RTF journalists (Le Monde, 13 February 1959). On 25 February, the unions sent a letter to de Gaulle voicing their concern about the lack of pluralism at the RTF and the risk that the government might use the broadcaster as its ‘weapon of predilection’ in the political battlefield (Le Monde, 17 June 1959). They pleaded for a new statute that would guarantee the RTF’s financial autonomy, the appointment of the Director General by an RTF board and the creation of a committee to monitor the pluralism and impartiality of the broadcaster (ibid.). The most important issue for journalists was the status of their profession. They were concerned that the ordinance ignored several legal texts establishing journalists’ rights regarding recruitment, promotion and dismissal (Le Monde, 22–3 February 1959). They expressed a desire to be ‘journalists at the RTF’, while the government wanted them to be ‘journalists of the RTF’ (Syndicat national des journalistes, 1974, p. 33). A clause in the 1959 broadcasting law stipulated the creation of a new status for the different categories of RTF personnel (including


journalists) to come into effect by 1 January 1960. However, changes were delayed by the Ministry of Finance out of fear that it would lead to pay rises and prompt similar demands across the public sector. On 29 December, after a year of waiting, the unions representing the RTF artistic personnel mounted a strike, soon followed by the technicians’ and journalists’ unions. The strike lasted ten days, depriving viewers of television programmes over the endof-year holidays. The government opened negotiations and status was granted to RTF personnel collectively on 4 February 1960, followed by journalists on 7 November of the same year. In the early 1960s the circle of critics widened to include civil liberties associations, civil society leaders and members of the opposition. They called for reform, objectivity in the news and better access to the broadcaster. One of the most articulate projects of reform came from André Diligent, deputy of the Mouvement républicain populaire (MRP), a centre-right political party. Diligent, who would become the leading critic of the Gaullist broadcasting policy, issued his first proposal for a new law in July 1961 and his first report a year later in June 1962 (Diligent, 1961, pp. 476–8; 1962, 299–306). The two texts called for the transformation of the government-controlled organization into an independent public corporation. In the report, Diligent argued that the current hold of the government over broadcasting was unacceptable on the grounds that ‘the Government is not the State, and the State is not the nation’ (Diligent, 1962, p. 305). The proposal contained several radical changes to the 1959 statute, including the appointment of a Director General nominated by a 15-member-strong board, the appointment of the DG for a fixed three-year term and the inclusion of a majority of civil society representatives on the board. The centrist deputy was careful to allow no less than seven weekly hours of airtime to the government. Facing mounting criticisms, the government announced a reform of the 1959 statute on 17 October 1962 at the National Assembly. 5.1.2

The 1964 reform

It was Alain Peyrefitte, the Minister of Information and government’s spokesman appointed on 15 April 1962, who thought that a reform had become necessary. Peyrefitte became de Gaulle’s most influential Minister of Information and kept his portfolio for nearly


four years, much longer than any of his predecessors or successors (see Appendix 1).1 Peyrefitte began to work on a project of reform soon after his appointment. From his own account, his original objective was to give more independence and thus more credibility to the RTF by granting the state institution a statute ‘midway between the statute of the BBC and that of the AFP [Agence France-Presse]’ (Peyrefitte, 1994b, p. 492). In the early stages of the project Peyrefitte met the unanimous disapproval of the members of his own parliamentary group, the president’s advisers and de Gaulle himself. For almost two years Peyrefitte’s plan attracted only derogatory comments from the president. On 20 July 1962, Peyrefitte was summoned by de Gaulle because an American journalist, David Schoenbrunn, had allegedly made caustic remarks about him on television the previous day. De Gaulle complained to the minister that he had been ‘insulted on his own television’, to which Peyrefitte replied that it was not easy for him to exercise sanctions (ibid., p. 494). The minister considered it necessary to create a board that would guarantee the impartiality of the RTF, and only then would he be able to penalize those infringing the impartiality rules. Hence, he concluded the need for a ‘liberal status’. The conversation continued as follows: General de Gaulle: ‘Liberal, liberal, what does that mean? A liberal, isn’t it someone who believes that his adversaries are right? But convince yourself that it is you who are right, and not your adversaries!’ Alain Peyrefitte: ‘The BBC was successful in becoming credible without praising or criticizing systematically the government.’ GdG: ‘Don’t dream! The quasi-totality of the newspaper press is against me. I cannot afford to lose television, which is mine. I have to compensate for the newspapers with the means that the law gives me.’ AP: ‘I have spent quite some time in foreign countries. One finds our radio and television structure only in Eastern Europe, in authoritarian regimes such as Spain or Portugal, and in third world countries. In representative democracies, there are private televisions, or a public corporation whose neutrality is guaranteed by representatives of the government and the opposition.’


GdG: ‘You let yourself be hypnotized by the Anglo-Saxons. There are other ways to conceive democracy and information! Even if they do, and get on well with it, and durably, which I would like to see, one should not imagine that it would work with us! It is stronger than us: as soon as something stands up, we turn it upside down. Reserve becomes deprecation! If we get democracy, it becomes demagogy [‘la démocrassouille’]! If we get dictatorship, it ends in tragedy! We need to build a system that works! We can’t do anything about the newspaper press, so at least radio and television journalists should not feel that they have to shoot at the government!’ (Peyrefitte, 1994b, pp. 494-5) A week later, encouraged by Prime Minister Georges Pompidou, the Minister of Information reiterated his proposal to the president: Alain Peyrefitte: ‘The national radio and television is victim of a paradox. Our system cumulates the inconveniences. It clashes with democratic systems and looks too similar to those in dictatorships, but that would be a dictatorship where those in power would be ridiculed every day.’ General de Gaulle grumbles: ‘Do you believe that?’ AP: ‘Now that the conflict has ceased in Algeria, can’t we take advantage of this and give radio and television a statute that would guarantee the rights of the opposition and would prevent any future government from behaving as Ramadier did with you?’ [see Chapter 4]. The General is taken aback: ‘A statute, it’s the Left that demands it! For twelve-and-a-half years they were in power and they kept themselves from making a statute! And why would they complain anyway? They stuffed all the floors of the RTF with their men, who obeyed them blindly.’ AP: ‘Precisely, doesn’t the rebellion of the journalists and producers against the government come from the fact that we didn’t find the right statute? You’ve given France a democratic Constitution, but we don’t have a democratic television. We should initiate mechanisms that would allow the introduction of impartiality, objectivity, neutrality of information and pluralism in the debates. We should also establish rules and a hierarchy that should be obeyed. You had the courage to adopt a liberal


policy to decolonize the Empire, why don’t you do the same now and decolonize radio and television?’ GDG: “Liberal, liberal! You call liberal those who give up all their power to allow others to do it for them? The times demanded it [decolonization]. It was in the interest of France, and that is why I did it. As to the RTF, one should do the contrary! It doesn’t need less, but more state authority! Your role is not to let power slip, but to regain it! If you give up the few privileges you possess, you’ll control nothing! In today’s world, radio and television exert an exorbitant influence. They penetrate directly into people’s homes. Such a new, educational and exceptional capacity entails great responsibilities. The state must guarantee this capacity in the same way that it guarantees education and national security. We have to take away television from those who have appropriated it abusively. Do you really envisage taking television away from the state, that is, the only authority which has the legitimacy to make public good prevail?’ (Peyrefitte, 1994b, pp. 496–7). While these discussions took place, the pressure mounted for a liberalization of the regime of the state broadcaster. In March 1963, Peyrefitte was invited for a talk by the Anglo-American press and he admitted that television was the equivalent of the ‘French state in the dining room of each citizen’ (La Correspondance de la presse, 20 March 1963). In April, the Communist Party put forward a proposition of law relative to the RTF, and in June a debate on the national broadcaster opened at the National Assembly. Deputies criticized the RTF on two grounds. Firstly, they complained about the lack of objectivity of newscasts and the very limited access to the RTF for the opposition. A Communist deputy, Fernand Grenier, cited several cases of censorship, programme cancellations and flagrant cases of partiality, such as major social or political events organized by the opposition parties hushed up by the national broadcaster. He mentioned a particular programme where actors had been paid to act as passers-by ‘spontaneously’ praising the government’s record (J.O. Assemblée nationale, 14 June 1963, p. 3425). A second cause for complaint was the chaotic state of the RTF. Deputies blamed the chronic mismanagement, the crippling bureau-


cracy and the disorganization and anarchy that reigned supreme at the national broadcaster. A deputy from the majority cited the emblematic case of an RTF journalist missing a revolution in Lumumba (now in Zaire), because his airline ticket had been blocked by the administration (ibid., p. 3414). He also illustrated the administrative difficulties that prevailed at the RTF with a telling example: as stage props, pianos had to be ordered from the prop department, but if the instruments were to be played they had to be ordered from a different service. The result was either two pianos or none at all (ibid., p. 3414).2 Thus, deputies urged the Minister of Information to accelerate the reform of the RTF announced in October 1962. They called for more independence for the national broadcaster and more impartiality in the news. In the course of 1963, the Minister of Information introduced a series of changes at the national broadcaster parallel to the main reform that had yet to materialize. The changes comprised a new news bulletin with more emphasis on images, a revamp of radio programmes, the launch of regional bulletins and RTF regional centres and the creation of a ‘minimum programming service’. This service guaranteed the broadcast of a news bulletin and a movie during industrial actions by the RTF staff. The innovations were popular with the public but for some they only served to highlight the government’s power over the state broadcaster. The fact that the Minister of Information himself had appeared on television screens to inaugurate the new regional and national news bulletins fuelled critics’ fears. His innovations were also taken as a direct challenge to the elitist concept of television held by many in the literary field, the art world and academia. More than one hundred artists and intellectuals – including Louis Aragon, Samuel Beckett and Marguerite Duras – felt compelled to sign a manifesto protesting against the alleged debasement of television programmes (Le Monde, 25 December 1963). Towards the end of February 1964 de Gaulle finally acquiesced to Peyrefitte’s project, with the major proviso that he worked it out as a decree. According to the president, if the government engaged in the full law-making process, there was a risk that the Assembly would vote ‘all sorts of demagogic amendments’ (Peyrefitte, 1997, p. 171). However, the Constitutional Council ruled that the reform fell within the domain of the law and the government was forced


to take the legislative route. The president was unimpressed by the proposed law presented to him on 8 April and asked for two major changes. He barred the election of the Director General by a committee, arguing that only the government had the right to appoint the person to whom the state delegates its ‘authority’ (ibid., p. 174). He also modified the composition of the Board of Trustees, rejecting the possibility that half the board be formed by personnel representatives and representatives of the press and viewers’ associations. As for the President of the Board, de Gaulle himself selected a name: he preferred Wladimir d’Ormesson to François Mauriac, an initial favourite, rating him a loyal ‘servant of the State’ (ibid., p. 175). The bill reached the National Assembly on 23 April 1964 and went on to its first reading a month later. In his opening speech, Peyrefitte laid out the reasons for the reform. The statute addressed four structural problems: the unwarranted levels of financial control over the RTF, excessive bureaucratization, squabbling between unions, and corporatism. Peyrefitte cited an opinion poll conducted by his own administration in 1963 that revealed only 9 per cent of the public trusted RTF radio and television news bulletins (Soulié, 1964, pp. 33, 37). He admitted that the credibility of the RTF was in tatters: The fundamental problem that we are attempting to remedy by the present bill is the permanent confusion in the public mind between the RTF and the government […] one has the tendency to interpret every piece of news or commentary broadcast by the RTF as a government announcement, which diminishes the value and credibility of RTF programmes (J.O. Assemblée nationale, 26 May 1964, pp. 1377–8) In the ensuing debate, the opposition’s deputies made forceful criticisms of the government’s broadcasting policy. They were scathing about the exclusion of their respective parties from the RTF and the use of the national broadcaster by the government as an instrument of propaganda. They voiced strong doubts about several aspects of the bill, pointing out the conspicuous absence of measures of liberalization, and agreed that the government record on freedom of expression was poor.


Deputies from the Gaullist majority (UNR-UDT) were unrepentant and blocked the discussion with two arguments. They interrupted the Communists, accusing the party of being totalitarian, and reminded speakers from the three ruling parties of the Fourth Republic of their own authoritarian handling of the RTF (J.O. Assemblée nationale, 27 May 1964, pp. 1408–41). The bill became law on the third reading on 27 June. The opposition put forward 60 amendments, all of which were rejected with the exception of nine which were of minor importance. The government resorted to Article 44 of the constitution to pass the law, which allowed it to block the votes and get the amendments out of the way all at once. The main provisions of the statute are as follows (J.O. Lois et décrets, 28 June 1964, pp. 5636–7): 1. The RTF changes its name to the ORTF, the Office de radiodiffusion-télévision française (Article 1). 2. The state broadcasting monopoly is maintained, which the ORTF inherits from the RTF (Article 1). 3. The ORTF is no longer under the ‘authority’ of the Ministry of Information, but said to be under its ‘tutelage’ (Article 2). 4. A Board of Trustees is created. Its role is to check programming standards and the objectivity, accuracy and pluralism of information. Half of the board members are appointed as state representatives (Articles 3 and 4). 6. The Director General and deputy directors are appointed by Cabinet decree (Article 6). 5. The ORTF remains subject to the financial control of the Ministry of Finance (Article 7). The Act draws its importance in the history of French broadcasting from the fact that it began a slow process of separation between the state and the national broadcaster. Peyrefitte was justified to claim in Parliament that it was the most liberal broadcasting law so far, even though it introduced only modest changes and kept concessions to liberalism to a strict minimum. Parliamentary discussions had given the government ample opportunity to introduce liberal provisions, but none appeared in the final version. The term ‘Office’ has no legal bearing whatsoever. Similarly, the introduction of the term ‘tutelage’, in lieu of ‘authority’, had no notable influence on the degree of independence of the


national broadcaster. Even de Gaulle made it clear to Peyrefitte that he did not take the change of terminology seriously (Peyrefitte, 1997, pp. 179–80). Crucially, the ORTF General Director and the deputy directors were still appointed by Cabinet, whereas, following the first Diligent report (Diligent, 1962), the opposition had repeatedly requested that the Director General be appointed by the Board of Trustees. In addition, the statute did not specify the duration of his or her appointment, allowing the government to dismiss the DG at short notice. For the first time, the act created an organ of control, the Board of Trustees, but everything was designed to ensure that within it the balance of power never shifted against the government. Half of its 16 members were appointed by the Cabinet as state representatives and were drawn from the most established state bodies (the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the French Academy, and so on). Among the other half, one trustee represented millions of viewers, another represented the press, and the ORTF personnel were given two seats. The remaining four board members were nominated in their capacity as ‘highly qualified personalities’, a category that gave plenty of room for arbitrary decisions (Decree 736, J.O. Lois et décrets, 22 July 1964). None of these members could be appointed without the government’s consent and, like ORTF directors, they were revocable at short notice. The Board of Trustees did not hold a particulary significant position within the ORTF power structure. Effectively, power resided in the safe hands of the Director General. For example, as the Act’s sixth article specified, the DG made all appointments at ORTF (see also Debbasch, 1967; Bollinger, 1968; Chevallier, 1970; Isar, 1995, pp. 223–34). The extent of the liberal intentions of the government are further thrown into doubt when the auxiliary measures taken by Peyrefitte are considered. A year before the reform, Peyrefitte created the Interministerial Information Liaison Service (Service de liaison interministérielle pour l’information, SLII). The primary role of the agency (purposefully given an obscure title to deflect attention), was to control and direct the ORTF news bulletins (see Chapter 6). The same year the minister opened several regional television centres. The personnel were carefully vetted and the news bulletins they produced were widely acknowledged as being strongly slanted in favour of the government.


In addition to rejecting demands for liberalization, the government suppressed two organs of control and restricted the ability of Parliament to scrutinize the ORTF. Furthermore, the appointments made at the Board of Trustees were extremely conservative. Most of them were trusted high-ranking civil servants taken out of retirement. The person appointed as viewers’ representative, one of the few possible voices of dissent, was Jean Cazeneuve, a sociologist sympathetic to the Gaullist regime. One of the seats of the ORTF personnel was given to the representative of a benevolent in-house union. The 1964 Act was neither as liberal as originally intended by Peyrefitte nor as progressive as the government claimed. Despite limited progress, such as the creation of a Board of Trustees, the government continued to dominate ORTF almost as completely as the previous regime ruled the RTF. If anything, its command over the broadcaster had been made more efficient because slightly less conspicuous.

5.2

The affair of La Caméra explore le temps

The 1964 Act was followed by an overhaul of programmes. When the new schedule appeared in the early months of 1965 it immediately triggered off a new controversy. Several programmes had been axed and a host of new ones were launched. Among the programmes cancelled was a series of historical documentaries entitled La Caméra explore le temps. This was French television’s greatest success. Thirty-six episodes had been broadcast since May 1956 and their blend of history and mystery had caught the imagination of the viewing public. The series had achieved mythical status by the time it was cancelled and a historian claims that it has become a ‘historical monument’ in its own right (Crivello-Bocca, 1999, p. 89). The first to raise protests were trade unions and civil society organizations, rapidly followed by the press (Le Monde, 9 April 1965; La Correspondance de la presse, 24 April 1965). By the end of April, the usually jolly Télé 7 Jours, France’s leading television guide, had seized upon the affair. An editorial acknowledged that the magazine was receiving ‘hundreds of new letters every day’ complaining about the cancellation of the series (Télé 7 Jours, 24 April 1965). In May, it organized a referendum on viewers’ preferred programmes and,


unsurprisingly, La Caméra explore le temps came first with 49 per cent of the votes (Télé 7 Jours, 12 June 1965). By June, leading intellectuals, including Jean-Paul Sartre, were writing open letters to the government and creating a committee for the ‘protection of radio and television’ (Le Monde, 16 June 1965). The affair reached the National Assembly late in April and the Senate early in June. In the parliamentary debates, two concurrent theses emerged to explain the cancellation of the series. The first held that one of the three producers, Stellio Lorenzi, was not only a communist but also a trade union agitator, and that the management was keen to see the back of him. The second hypothesis held that the ideological inclination of the series irritated the regime and that the sacking came just after an episode on the Revolution had portrayed Robespierre too positively and Danton too negatively. Senator Jacques Duclos (PCF) claimed that the episode was too biased for the new General Director of the ORTF, Claude Contamine. Peyrefitte’s former chief of staff was a member of the French Academy and son of an academic who had professed Maurassian ideas all his life (J.O. Sénat, 23 June 1965, p. 726). Although historians are still uncertain about the exact circumstances that ended the series (Crivello-Bocca, 1999, p. 89), it can now be established that the hatchet came from the highest level. Alain Peyrefitte wrote the following to the author: The only time the general de Gaulle asked me nominatively [for] the ‘head’ of someone, it was that of Lorenzi. He was a very active communist who reigned over the world of television producers. I have therefore replaced ‘La Caméra explore le temps’ with another historical series … whose producer also revealed himself a communist, contrary to what we believed because his father was a general in the state police force. (Alain Peyrefitte, 10 May 1999) This act of political censorship is significant because of the status of the programme involved. If de Gaulle and the Minister of Information dared to end France’s most popular television programme it implied that any other programme that stepped beyond the boundaries of Gaullist political correctness could be closed. It also demonstrates that the regime regarded television as its own


property rather than as that of the viewers. The political intervention indicates the limits of the 1964 Act and shows that the ORTF had yet to acquire its independence from the government.

5.3

Television and political struggle, 1965–68

The parliamentary debate triggered by the affair of La Caméra explore le temps widened to encompass the television coverage of the local elections of March 1965. Senators and deputies from the opposition resented the biased reporting and the lack of access for their parties to the state broadcaster. A Communist deputy, Robert Ballanger, claimed that a civil servant at the Ministry of the Interior routinely called the ORTF regional directors to give them the list of local councils eligible for a news report on the evening regional bulletins (J.O. Assemblée nationale, 30 April 1965, p. 1045). Deputies from the opposition could be expected to complain about television, but here they were able to substantiate their charges. They cited scores of examples – all with a wealth of details, in Nice, Marseille, Bordeaux and Lille – where the Gaullist candidate got full coverage while the candidate from the opposition was barely mentioned (see Section 6.3). A centrist deputy, Maurice Faure, maintained that the day before the second round, the presenter himself told viewers of a particular constituency to vote for the local Gaullist candidate if they wished to bar the election of the Communist contestant (ibid., p. 1049). The cancellation of La Caméra explore le temps and the coverage of the local elections were not the only issues related to the ORTF that put the government on a confrontational course with the unions, the opposition and civil liberties organizations. In April, while new journalists were recruited, and at a time of growth at the ORTF,3 around 50 journalists were sacked (Le Monde, 29 April 1965). During 1965 hardly a week passed without a political group or civil liberties association attacking the ORTF or calling for reform. Two of the most active organizations were ALERTE (Association pour la Liberté d’Expression à la Radio et à la Télévision), backed by several opposition parties, notably the Socialists, and Télé-Liberté, a viewers’ association controlled by the Communist Party. These organizations multiplied the open letters, protests and press releases criticizing the government’s control over the ORTF and the slanted


information of the broadcaster. Political parties also voiced their complaints on several occasions. For instance, early in May, the parliamentary group of the Socialist Party tabled a project aiming at the creation of a commission to examine the ORTF’s management problems (La Correspondance de la presse, 7 May 1965). The Minister of Information rebutted these critics periodically. He often praised the objectivity of the ORTF news bulletins and underlined the ease of access to the ORTF by the opposition. Peyrefitte developed the following argument in one of his public speeches: Few people still imagine the state as having an evil influence on children’s education. Indeed, I think the beneficial role of National Education no longer needs to be proven. Why then, under these conditions, wouldn’t one like the State to play a role in the formation and information of adults? It is its duty, on condition that it remains strictly objective. (in La Correspondance de la presse, 6 December 1965) With the presidential election taking place in December the recriminations from political groups increased as the year end approached, although a generous amount of airtime had been alloted to each presidential candidate (Section 6.3). Not surprisingly, the ‘right to information’ figured highly among the campaign pledges of François Mitterrand, the candidate of the Left (La Correspondance de la presse, 18 November 1965). A similar pattern was followed in 1966, with calls for reform succeeding complaints against biased coverage. Civil liberties organizations frequently singled out specific programmes for their excessive bias and partisanship. The history programmes that replaced La Caméra explore le temps were accused of re-writing history in favour of the regime (La Correspondance de la presse, 4 November 1966; Témoignage Chrétien, 15 December 1966). Unions and political parties multiplied the calls for reform and focused their criticisms on the issue of access to the ORTF. Among other initiatives, the Socialists demanded monthly airtime for all political parties represented in parliament (La Correspondance de la presse, 23 February 1966). In June, Mitterrand’s ‘shadow cabinet’ made public a proposal for a new statute whereby the head of the ORTF would be elected by a renewed Board of Trustees composed of


representatives from the government, the parliamentary parties, the magistracy, ORTF personnel and academia (Brochand, 1994, p. 129). Towards the end of the year both the centrists and socialists tabled bills on the ORTF. In November, the Senate, examining the Ministry of Information’s budget, refused to approve the collection of the TV licence fee (La Correspondance de la presse, 23 November 1966). The same month, the Cabinet announced a bill on party propaganda for the legislative elections of March 1967. It attributed 90 minutes of airtime in the first round and 45 minutes in the second to the majority and the same amount of time given to the opposition parties as a whole. The opposition complained of the unfairness and the Senate agreed by refusing to approve it (La Correspondance de la presse, 16 December 1966). The ORTF personnel remained both dissatisfied and disruptive and short strikes erupted throughout the year. They formed their own think-tank, ‘Groupe Radio-Télévision 67’, which came out with its own proposal for reform in July. It recommended the formation of a broadcasting corporation, in place of the actual ‘office’; the complete reshaping of the managerial structures; the creation of seven fully autonomous regional centres and the appointment of the Director General for a minimum of five years by a board that should include representatives from the National Assembly, the ORTF personnel and the viewing public (Le Monde, 30 June 1966). In 1967, several incidents compounded the problems at ORTF. Disillusion about the statute and frustration with the management led to severe disruptions. Between October 1966 and March 1967 the ORTF directors received no less than 127 strike warnings (Astoux, 1978, p. 25). Television coverage continued to be criticized by both the opposition and civil liberties organizations. In April, a secret abortive attempt at censoring a documentary of a worker sacked by Citroën (the car maker) for his union activities ended up in the public sphere. In June a heated controversy began over rumours about the creation of a commercial channel. The government dispelled the controversy by pledging not to break the monopoly of the ORTF (La Correspondance de la presse, 9, 22, 26 June 1967). The conflict that erupted in October 1967 between the government, the opposition and civil society organizations over the intro-


duction of brand advertising on television dwarfed all previous disputes. As soon as the government made public its shift of policy on the matter on 23 October (the decision was one that had been taken sometime before), a formidable coalition of forces rallied against the regime. Within two days, all political parties except the Gaullists proclaimed their hostility to the project. Within weeks, artists, actors, intellectuals and journalists, trade unions, employers’ associations and the press (out of fear for its own advertising revenue) campaigned against the government’s decision. On 23 November, a Socialist deputy, Roland Dumas, tabled a bill stipulating that the introduction of brand advertising on television necessitated Parliament’s approval. Following long quarrels between Gaullists and Socialists, the debate on Dumas’s bill finally opened on 17 April 1968. When the Gaullists diverted the discussion, the Socialists withdrew their bill and tabled a motion of censure against the government’s broadcasting policy. The debate on the motion that opened on 23 April took place in a heated atmosphere. The Socialists launched an all-out attack and accused the government of turning the ORTF into a propaganda machine. The motion, voted the next day, missed reaching the 244 majority by eight deputies (La Correspondance de la presse, 17–25 April 1968). In the ensuing weeks the national broadcaster remained high on the political agenda. Several political parties put forward bills aimed at restricting advertising on television. In early May, in the space of two days, the creation of no less than four special commissions on the ORTF was approved by the National Assembly: three covered advertising and a fourth the ORTF’s handling of information (La Correspondance de la presse, 8–9 May 1968). In addition, three major reports on the ORTF were released between April and May. The first was the work of a senatorial commission appointed in December 1967 and headed by Senator André Diligent; the second was published by Télé-Liberté and the third was issued by the Conseil économique et social, a governmental body set up to comment on salient public issues (Aumonier, 1968). All were equally critical about the ORTF but only the Diligent report reached a wide audience. The report’s opening salvo was directed against the 1964 statute. In an incisive overview of the statute’s weaknesses, it criticized the mode of appointment of the Director General (by government


decree), the composition of the Board of Trustees, the lack of guarantee of impartiality and the limited access to the broadcaster given to the opposition and civil society organizations. The report also pointed to the restrictive interpretation of the few liberal provisions of the statute: the lack of accountability of the broadcaster; the impossibility for Parliament to scrutinize the activities of the ORTF; and the refusal of the Minister of Information to implement any of the proposals of reform put forward by the opposition. It deplored the overall lack of regard for the rules of parliamentary democracy and concluded the first section with a mordant comment: We notice that the statute reflects, as a whole, an authoritarian state of mind, which explains that although it originally contained some liberal openings […] it is interpreted and applied in an authoritarian way. (Diligent, 1968, p. 40) The report then focused on the discursive and ideological consequences of the lack of autonomy of the state broadcaster: poor journalistic standards, lack of balance and fairness, difficult access for the opposition and excessive government propaganda. The conclusion was unforgiving: ‘Neither would it be true nor serious to say that broadcast information does not reflect the thought of the Government’ (ibid., p. 106). The report made a series of recommendations: the transfer of the authority of tutelage from the Ministry of Information to the Ministry for Cultural Affairs; and the suppression of financial controls and the shift of power from the Director General to the Board of Trustees. The DG would no longer be appointed by the government but nominated by the Board and placed under its authority. The Board would be opened up to new professional categories, such as artists, writers and producers, and government representatives would cease to form its majority. The final recommendation was for the creation of a ‘Superior Council for Information’ in order to guarantee and improve the balance and fairness of the output of the national broadcaster (ibid., pp. 266–88). Over the preceding months, the ORTF had risen to the forefront of the political scene and it would remain so during the coming crisis of May 1968. Soon after the release of this document the


attention of the government was distracted by the clamour on the very streets of Paris itself.

5.4

May 1968 at the ORTF

There is little doubt that the severe crisis that rattled the ORTF in May and June 1968 was sparkled by the students’ protest. However, the students’ movement was a catalyst to a crisis that the ORTF had nurtured over a long period. As seen above, discontent was rife at the state broadcaster and the nationwide unrest simply allowed the situation to explode. 5.4.1

The incubation period

The students’ revolt erupted during the first week of May 1968. On the 3rd, students occupied a campus at the University of Paris, the Sorbonne, and organized the first rally. The leading students’ unions decreed a strike on 5 May and on 6 May began holding demonstrations and meetings in the capital and in the main provincial cities. In Paris, battles between students and the riot police broke out and continued through the night of the 6th – 422 were arrested. On 7 May more than 60 000 students marched through the capital and the following day the National Assembly opened debates on the issue. By 9 May the revolt had spread to the provinces. Barricades were erected in the Latin Quarter on 10 May and clashes between students and riot police carried on through the night, an occasion later called the ‘night of the barricades’. At this point, with the exception of short press releases, not one news report, nor even a single image, had been broadcast. All week long the ORTF management repeatedly rejected television crews’ pleas to film the troubles and threatened sanctions against those journalists who sought to report it (Manigand and Veyrat-Masson, 1987, pp. 71–3). The first authorization came on 8 May: a TV crew filmed the rioting for two days and carried interviews of students and professors. The resulting report was programmed for the newsmagazine Panorama scheduled for Friday 10 May, but the ORTF directors and representatives from the Ministry of Information and Ministry of Education who previewed it forbade its broadcast (Frédéric, 1968, p. 33; Manigand and Veyrat-Masson, 1987, p. 73).4


This act of censorship provoked outrage amongst many ORTF personnel and opened the floodgates to a flow of press releases from the ORTF unions (Astoux, 1978, p. 42). One of these ‘communiqués’, released on 11 May, came from the news-magazine producers who denounced the ‘scandalous lack of information’ from the ORTF and criticized its senior executives for their inability to withstand government pressure. They threatened to suspend all newsmagazines if they were further prevented from reporting the crisis (Le Monde, 15 May 1968). Later that day, film producers and directors threatened the ORTF management with an ‘unlimited strike’ unless they were received by the Board of Trustees in order to address the issue of impartiality (ibid.). The same evening, the management tried to make amends by broadcasting the censored news report late at night. However, it was revealed to be a much truncated version. Interviews with student leaders were edited out and a clip showing a Communist academic opposed to the strike was substituted. Interviews of students and academics that had been recorded before the night of the barricades were also shown (after the crisis) airing their views on events prior to the escalation of the crisis. The whole episode sparked reactions from television producers and directors who protested that after the complete information ‘blackout’ (sic) the ORTF had given further proof of ‘biased and partial information’ (Le Monde, 15 May 1968). On 13 May a nationwide call for a 24-hour general strike was followed by the great majority of the ORTF personnel, albeit without much enthusiasm on their part. Following initial hesitation, the powerful union of ORTF technicians (the SUT, Syndicat unifié des techniciens) joined the movement (Louis, 1968, p. 27). The strike was to provoke two new incidents at ORTF. According to various estimates, between 500 000 and 800 000 protesters had gathered in the streets of the capital on this occasion. The evening news bulletin, which devoted only 90 seconds of airtime to the mass rally, quoted the figure of 171 000 participants. The estimate added to the anger of many ORTF staff who felt increasingly uneasy with the way the state broadcaster either ignored or distorted vital information. In addition, that same evening, the ORTF directors and trustees imposed cuts (reluctantly accepted by producers) to a reportage and then forbade the follow-up debate. This added to the fury of producers, who sought the intercession of government officials. These


ruled in their favour and both the reportage and the debate were broadcast the next day. The broadcast went out on the second channel, however, whose share of audience usually varied between 5 and 10 per cent (Frédéric, 1968, p. 40). Following these incidents, on 14 May, ORTF personnel began to convene in Studio 4 of the headquarters building. This assembly sat round the clock for two days addressing the organization’s most salient issues, again in a fevered atmosphere. On the evening of 16 May producers and film directors joined the meeting to present their own conclusions. They came up with a set of radical propositions requesting the complete shake-up of the ORTF, the end of all government ties and the resignation of the directors. The assembly unanimously approved the producers’ proposals and voted in favour of a strike (Louis, 1968, pp. 29–33). Meanwhile, ORTF journalists held their own meetings and formed a ‘permanent committee for the respect of the objectivity of information’. One of their representatives came down to Studio 4 to stipulate their position that same evening. The press release, read on air the following day, stated that ORTF journalists would no longer ‘accept the influence of ministries or political parties’. They pledged to deliver ‘honest, complete and objective information’ (Le Monde, 19–20 May 1968). A turning point was reached on 17 May when a general assembly of ORTF personnel again convened. Spread over three studios connected by audio link, approximately 3000 ORTF employees took part. That day 13 trade unions founded l’Intersyndicale, an interunion steering committee that would play a leading role in the following weeks. L’Intersyndicale immediately submitted to the general assembly a list of demands including the abolition of the 1964 statute, an end to ministerial tutelage, independence of the national broadcaster, the resignation of ORTF directors and trustees, the formation of a new board of trustees (incorporating more ORTF personnel representatives and civil society leaders) and the nomination of a director general by the new board. The list also included claims regarding pensions, wages and working hours, even though these demands did not yet figure high on their agenda. After hours of stormy discussions, the main points of their demands were finally approved by the assembly, as was the principle of a strike. The decision to go on strike was a significant feat since it was arrived at


simultaneously by most of the unions, representing 13 000 employees and 173 categories of personnel. ORTF unions, usually divided, stood together on 17 May in their determination to obtain complete reform.

5.4.2

The strike

In subsequent days the strike conditions were clarified by the interunion steering committee and a new manifesto was made public. In addition to measures voted in at the general assembly the strikers called for a provisional body to govern the ORTF until the introduction of a bill guaranteeing the state broadcaster’s independence. The strike began in the early hours of 21 May and discussion groups were established with the purpose of allowing members to debate reforms. One of the first difficulties met by the strike committee concerned news bulletins. Although ORTF journalists were unhappy with the existing information system and had voiced their discontent to the Minister of Information, they had yet to join the strike and were still producing three daily editions of the news bulletin. On the day before the strike began, journalists had held an assembly and elected their own committee. They issued a press release that not only ignored the manifesto of the inter-union committee but also called for ORTF directors to guarantee objectivity of information. This infuriated the rest of the ORTF personnel. Several factors explain the initial reluctance of journalists to join the strike. Many of them owed their position to political patronage; as such, they were not given much credibility by their colleagues and peers outside the ORTF and they were not strongly unionized (Manigand and Veyrat-Masson, 1987, pp. 76–7). On 21 May the strike committee accused journalists of not standing by the strikers and warned them that the technical staff would soon withdraw their support for the news bulletins. Avoiding a clash, the journalists’ committee allowed journalists to express their moral support with the strikers on an individual basis. The majority of them did so, 70 in all, although they still refused to join the strike. During the next two days several unfruitful negotiations took place between ORTF personnel and management. Journalists tried to


obtain from the Director of Television, Emile Biasini, authorization to broadcast a debate among print journalists of different political leanings. Biasini agreed, on condition that the strikers agreed to schedule a film but the offer was rejected by the inter-union committee. On 24 May, the long-scheduled address by de Gaulle went on air at 8 pm.5 This time, journalists negotiated with management the broadcast of politicians’ reactions to de Gaulle’s speech. Nine interviews were recorded but the following day Biasini announced his decision not to broadcast them (Astoux, 1978, p. 163). This was the last blow for the still-faithful ORTF journalists who decided to go on strike by 97 votes against 23 (Frédéric, 1968, pp. 67–75). Those 23 journalists who had voted against continued to produce news bulletins broadcast from another building specifically reopened for the occasion and guarded by the army. In the ensuing weeks these bulletins were the only programmes available on French television. The remaining staff were engaged in a five-week-long strike (seven weeks in the case of journalists), one that became the longest of the crisis. Meanwhile, on 25 May, the inter-union committee declared its willingness to open negotiations at government level (Filiu, 1987a, p. 51). The next day, two committee members, with the help of a legal expert, completed a negotiation protocol. Firstly, they called for the repeal of the 1964 statute and the introduction of a broadcasting bill by October 1968 that stipulated the independence of the state broadcaster and the participation of personnel in senior executive decisions. It implied the end of government tutelage, the appointment of the Director General by the Board of Trustees (where state representatives should not exceed one-third of total membership), and the establishment of a charter of information defining the relationship between political power and the broadcasting media. Their second objective was to create a transitory management structure until the passing of the broadcasting bill (see Louis, 1968, pp. 69–72). Nothing came out of the first meeting, held on 28 May between representatives of the unions’ steering committee and the Minister of Information, Georges Gorse. Gorse, who as minister had been uncooperative since the beginning of the conflict, upon de Gaulle’s request stood firm and blocked negotiations (Filiu, 1984, pp. 183, 211, 216; 1987b, pp. 168–70).


Three days later, as de Gaulle’s public address on 30 May had begun to turn things around for the government, Gorse was replaced by Yves Guéna, whose tough handling of the strike at the national post office had pleased the president. The new Minister of Information and the inter-union committee first met on 1 June. Guéna rejected all the demands from the committee and judged the project of reform unacceptable for constitutional reasons. The following morning representatives of the ORTF permanent staff held their own talks with the Minister and the discussions focused on material – as opposed to political – demands, for example wages and working conditions. The representatives of the non-statutory personnel, thousands of casual workers, joined the meeting in the afternoon and perceived the move as a betrayal from their fellow strikers and an attempt by the Minister to divide the inter-union committee. Indeed, Guéna successfully played up the divisions in the strikers’ camp and the disagreements within the inter-union committee put him in a commanding position. On 3 June, Guéna received the delegates of the inter-union committee in the film theatre of the Ministry of Information. He told them that he refused to open the debate, read a short text and swiftly left the meeting, giving them a few hours to accept his proposal (Guéna, 1970, pp. 75–7). The concessions were minimal and failed to seriously address the concerns of the inter-union committee. Participants to the meeting later wrote that the attitude of the Minister was so ‘odious’ that he managed to bind the committee together again (Frédéric, 1968, p. 91; Louis, 1968, p. 81). When the delegates prepared to return to the ORTF building at Quai Kennedy (La Maison de la Radio), they were told that the building was encircled by the police and access was restricted. They decided to continue with the strike that had, hours earlier, been threatened by divisions within the committee. Activity was now slowly picking up in other industrial sectors, while negotiations at ORTF had been interrupted. Early in June the inter-union committee intensified its public relations campaign to rally public opinion. On 6 June ‘Operation Jericho’ began, named after the verses of the Apocalypse recounting the fall of the walls of Jericho on the seventh day. Accordingly, seven silent processions were planned to march around the ORTF building for one hour every day of the week. On 6 June, around two thousand artists and


actors marched around the television building, followed the next day by journalists from the print media, and then by metal workers, students, civil servants, and finally intellectuals and representatives from the liberal professions. The protest on the seventh day was cancelled by police orders. The ORTF unions also organized a series of debates and galas throughout the country (Louis, 1968, pp. 88–94; Manel and Planel, 1968, pp. 91–5). Negotiations reopened on Thursday 6 June with a newly appointed ORTF Director General, Jean-Jacques de Bresson, and two days later, with the Minister of Information. While progress was made on demands concerning wages and working conditions, no agreement was reached regarding the reform of the ORTF itself (Guéna, 1970, pp. 87–91). In their third week of the strike, the personnel remained determined over the political issue. On 16 June, after a week of negotiations, the inter-union committee presented five propositions to the Director General, seeking guarantees for a reform and the creation of various consultative committees (Louis, 1968, pp. 163–4). The propositions were rejected, which prompted the personnel on 17 June to prolong the strike (Astoux, 1978, p. 196). So far, concessions made by the government had been extremely slim: an increase in the number of members appointed to the Board of Trustees and the inclusion of five staff representatives; the creation of a committee within the existing Board (to be in charge of monitoring impartiality); payment of strike days and promise of an absence of sanctions against strikers. These concessions fell far short of strikers’ terms in their demands for a complete shake-up of the structure of ORTF. Dissension resurfaced among the personnel. Some delegates thought the time had come to end the strike. They argued that the present government would not offer further concessions and they would be better off waiting for the Left to win the legislative elections scheduled on 23 June. Two unions were particularly keen to end the industrial action. The first was the radio and television branch of the Communist-led CGT, the SNRT (Syndicat national de radio et de télévision), which claimed 2500 members among the ORTF permanent staff, and the second was the SUT, representing 90 per cent of the ORTF technicians, 6000 members in all (Filiu, 1987a, pp. 41–3). Thus, 12 members of the inter-union committee voted for the suspension of the strike on 19 June, against nine who were willing to


continue. Over the next two days, the different categories of ORTF personnel held separate meetings to approve the decision. Journalists, administrative and creative staff were willing to continue the industrial action but technicians decided to follow the inter-union committee. Following the consultation, the committee decided to continue the strike but CGT and SUT leaders were now working behind the scenes trying to convince workers to resume work. On the eve of the first round of legislative elections, the CGT’s central office mounted pressure on its radio and television branch to bring the conflict to an end. The reasoning of the CGT leaders was that the ORTF conflict – reputed to be unpopular with television viewers – hindered the prospects of the Left for a victory. The CGT and SUT, both members of the inter-union committee, merged their interests and issued an ambiguous statement on the evening of 23 June announcing that although the ORTF was still on strike, the permanent staff would nonetheless resume work on 25 June (Filiu, 1987a, pp. 59–61). Most workers agreed, with the exception of journalists and nonstatutory staff. Those who agreed ended a five-week-long industrial action. Radio journalists and producers resumed work shortly afterwards on 27 June, followed by television directors and producers on 1 July. Television journalists, who had been the last to join the movement, remained on strike for a record seven weeks, which was ended on 13 July by 57 voices against 28, with 4 abstentions. They conceded defeat with a final press release: ‘[N]o guarantee has been given regarding either the impartiality of information or a responsible involvement of journalists in the management of broadcasting news’ (in Le Monde, 14–15 July 1968). 5.4.3

The ‘restoration’

ORTF personnel benefited little from the strike. Demands for reform had not been met and the government had conceded only to those material requests that were secondary to the strike. ORTF staff were given a 9.25 per cent pay rise and one hour off their working week plus an additional day’s vacation. The number of staff representatives on the board of trustees was increased to five but as the number of state representatives also increased accordingly, the balance of power remained unchanged. As a token gesture to strikers’ demands concerning management structure the government


opened discussions with a view to creating a works council (Filiu, 1987a, p. 65). The strike had incapacitated the government during a period when it considered control over the means of communication more crucial than ever. The government did not forgive the strikers for disrupting state radio and television and thus gave away few concessions. The Gaullist regime had been accustomed to setting the public agenda and now, for the first time, it was unable to communicate effectively with the nation. It was also desperate to distract the attention of the French populace away from the crisis. One of Guéna’s main objectives during negotiations was to make the ORTF broadcast a film after the short news bulletin. He later wrote that he had done his utmost ‘to give to the French a spectacle every evening’ (Guéna, 1970, p. 84). The ORTF strike was extremely high-profile: it had affected millions of viewers’ daily lives and exasperated the government in its failed attempts to normalize the situation. Thus, it became a potent symbol of government incapacity. Early in June, Guéna had already sacked the ORTF Director General, Jacques-Bernard Dupont, Director of Television Emile Biasini and Edouard Sablier, Director of Information. The government was particularly severe with journalists. In one of the television’s greatest purges – Guéna himself talked of a ‘cleansing’ – 57 journalists were sacked (34 from television and 23 from radio); 30 were re-assigned, mostly in the provinces, and 26 trainees were laid off (Le Monde, 14 August 1968; Guéna, 1987, p. 218). Among creative staff employed on a casual basis, many directors and producers were never called back. During the summer the government effected a token reform of the state broadcaster. In order to accommodate three new ORTF staff representatives on the Board of Trustees – bringing the total to five, without reducing the proportion of state representatives, totalling twelve – the number of seats on the board was increased from sixteen to twenty-four. The government relaxed the control of the Ministry of Finance and promised the participation of ORTF personnel in management decisions, enforced through a hypothetical works council. The introduction of brand advertising on television, starting in October 1968, was confirmed, despite earlier protests. The reform was limited in scope and had no implications for the 1964 statute, which remained unmodified until July 1972


(Brochand, 1994, pp. 175–89). The first in-depth reforms came in 1974 and were launched by Giscard d’Estaing within weeks of his presidential inauguration (Bachmann, 1997). ORTF management proceeded to completely overhaul programmes during the summer. A host of news-magazines and cultural programmes were discontinued (Le Monde, 11, 12 July 1968). The appointment of Pierre Sabbagh as Director of Television (replacing Emile Biasini) spearheaded the new emphasis on entertainment. From this point on, television was meant to provide escapism for the masses. 5.4.4

The government and de Gaulle during the crisis

Throughout the crisis with the national broadcaster the government had remained firm. On several occasions ORTF senior executives tried to obtain concessions from the government to ease tense situations, but to no avail (Astoux, 1978, pp. 191–201). The appointment of Yves Guéna as Minister of Information on 31 May was one of many signs that the government had no intention of letting the power slip from its hands. The minister shouted to Astoux at his first meeting with the ORTF Deputy Director General: ‘We’ve done too much psychology, let’s sack everybody!’ (in André Astoux, 1978, p. 192). De Gaulle was the source of the government’s uncompromising attitude. Since the beginning of the crisis, he had recommended they take a hard line with the ORTF.6 After his return from Romania on 19 May he convened his key ministers and, according to the Prefect of Paris who was present at the meeting, gave them the following instructions: What is happening has lasted long enough. All is in shambles, it is anarchy, and it is intolerable. This must cease. I have taken decisions. We evacuate the Odéon today [one of the centres of the student rebellion] and La Sorbonne tomorrow. [Turning to the Minister of Information] Regarding the ORTF, you take things back in control, you sack the troublemakers, and that’s that! (Grimaud, 1977, p. 209) On 28 May the Minister of Information had another meeting with the president who berated him for the news coverage of the strike by the national broadcaster. When Georges Gorse, the Minister of


Information at the time, replied that he was no longer obeyed at the ORTF, de Gaulle retorted: ‘Sack them all!’ (in Filiu, 1984, p. 211). On 1 June de Gaulle repeated his orders to the Prime Minister: ‘Sack all these journalists who are adversaries, and who we know as such for long’ (in Foccart, 1998, p. 166). At one stage it was even envisaged that army commandos would be used to storm the ORTF building (Astoux, 1978, p. 198). In mid-June de Gaulle was reported as wishing that the strike would not end before the second round of the legislative elections on 30 June, before adding ‘we shall not see some of them [the journalists] come back at all’ (Foccart, 1998, p. 203). Once the strike was over, Jacques Foccart reminded him of his intention to stay firm with the ORTF personnel. He replied that he had given ‘written instructions’ and that the ORTF would have to hire new people (ibid., p. 236). The ORTF was the only state institution that incurred the wrath of the president and suffered retaliation to such an extent. Yves Guéna explains the exception as follows: The entire philosophy of the General about state radio and television holds in these few words: no squandering of public money, exasperation with avant-garde programmes and, regarding information, it must not be slanted, but it must support the politics of the government. That’s the way it is. Television is his television. (Guéna,1982, p. 280)

5.5

Conclusion

When the first Gaullist government inherited the RTF, the national broadcaster was an unsettled institution manipulated by the regime. Little progress was made during the 1960s. The state broadcaster remained plagued with mismanagement, cronyism and low staff morale. Crises were frequent and culminated with the complete paralysis of the broadcaster in May–June 1968. Major administrative restructuring had to be undertaken in the ensuing decade. Its credibility and satisfaction remained low with the viewing public. Discontent remained rife among civil liberties associations, the political class, and civil society leaders, and calls for reforms never ceased.


As was apparent during the May 1968 crisis, the government refused to surrender an inch of its power over the national broadcaster. Political control came at a cost, but was it worth the price? Chapter 6 examines the impact of the control of the government on the broadcaster’s output.

6 The ORTF as State Broadcaster

This chapter examines the way the government exercised its power over the ORTF and how its control affected the broadcaster’s programming content. Section 6.1 lists the methods the government employed to keep the national broadcaster under its subjection. Section 6.2 analyses the impact of government control over the broadcaster’s output, notably over political reporting and presidential coverage. Section 6.3 examines the issue of access to the ORTF, both outside and during electoral campaigns. Sections 6.4 and 6.5 argue that political control made the national broadcaster operate as a state television and that a distinction should be made between state and public broadcasters. Their relationship with political authority is distinct and their discursive and ideological features stand in contrast with each other.

6.1 6.1.1

Means of control over the ORTF Appointments, sanctions and promotions

The way the government exercised control over the broadcaster was primarily through appointments. From 1958 onwards a clique of unswerving Gaullists were entrusted with all the senior appointments at the state broadcaster. Within weeks of de Gaulle’s return to power, the RTF’s existing directors were swept away and replaced by men whom the president had had ample opportunities to test in terms of their devotion. 123


In July 1958, Christian Chavanon was appointed RTF Director General and Louis Terrenoire Director of Information; both were close allies of de Gaulle and members of the political party he had founded during the Fourth Republic. Louis Terrenoire was also elected deputy for the Gaullist party at the National Assembly in November 1958. Jean Thibault, de Gaulle’s research assistant when the French leader was writing his war memoirs, was appointed Director of Overseas Programmes. Albert Ollivier, previously the editor of Le Rassemblement, the Gaullist party’s official publication, was appointed Director of Television in October 1959 (Sallebert, 1975, p. 175; Bourdon, 1990, p. 123; Bourdon, 1994, pp. 62, 64). Several of Alain Peyrefitte’s own Cabinet staff were appointed to senior positions at the ORTF. George Riou, Peyrefitte’s ex-chief of staff, became RTF Administrative Director in February 1964. Claude Contamine, also ex-chief of staff, became Director of Television in July 1964. Bernard Gouley, a member of Peyrefitte’s Cabinet, became Deputy Director General in May 1964 and later Delegate General of the ORTF regional centres. Jacques Thibau, deputy chief of staff, became Deputy Director of Television and head of the second channel in 1965. Other appointments made at a later stage included Jean-Jacques de Bresson, another of Peyrefitte’s former chiefs of staff, who was appointed to ORTF Director General from June 1968 to July 1972 (Durieux, 1976, pp. 47–52). Administrative staff and directors in place before the Gaullist era were rarely actually dismissed in order to avoid scandal. Although, as Peyrefitte admitted in an interview in 1970, ‘we [the Gaullists] discharged them of all important responsibilities’ (in Saldich, 1970, p. 59). This ability to decide on appointments was one of the main reasons why de Gaulle was wary of a reform of the RTF statute. The president’s adviser for information, Pierre Lefranc, gave clear instructions to Peyrefitte regarding this matter in May 1962: Keep the capacity to appoint who you want where you want. If a Director General doesn’t do the business, change him. You simply suggest it at a Cabinet meeting, which will not make any difficulty. If a director or head of department is not loyal, you can revoke or transfer him. If a radio or television journalist presents the news from an unfavourable angle for the government, discharge him. Through the authority that the law gives you, you

The ORTF as State Broadcaster 125

should be able to put the RTF on track, whereas it always derails […] the General does not expect you to lose this authority. (in Peyrefitte, 1994b, p. 493, my emphasis) Crucially, the 1964 broadcasting law did not modify the mode of appointment of the Director General and deputies, which was still made by Cabinet decision. In most cases, appointees had enjoyed a personal relationship with at least one Cabinet member before their nomination. As the statute did not specify the duration of their mandate, appointments were revocable at short notice. The Director General was a powerful figure within the ORTF. He sat at the top of a highly hierarchical organizational chart and took every significant decision. He could veto any appointment at the ORTF, further strengthening the hand of the government at the national broadcaster. Journalist appointments and, indeed careers, were also subject to political decisions. The press often reported cases of seasoned journalists being denied access to the newsroom, being subject to blame, suspension or transferral, while the most recent recruits were promoted at lightning speed to senior positions. Some journalists were sacked regardless of their professional status and any political implications. Most dismissals took place in 1958 following de Gaulle’s accession to power and, in 1968, during the purge following the crisis of May and June of that year (see Chapter 5). The orders to sack non-compliant personnel came from the highest level. In March 1963, de Gaulle wrote to Peyrefitte to let him know that for his broadcasting reform to be a success ‘it is necessary to clean the house from top to bottom, which implies numerous dismissals and probably a momentary power struggle’ (de Gaulle, 1986, pp. 320–1). Six months later, he could congratulate his Minister of Information: ‘In the news bulletin, the former “journalists” who presented events in their own manner, and in a distorted way, have been replaced. That’s good’ (ibid., p. 369). However, in the same message, he complained that his opponents, ‘the communists in particular’, now manifested their ‘noxiousness’ in a different way: They [the opponents] influence the sub-editors who choose the images that please them and place them in evidence according to


their preferences. At the same time, the voice-over comments [on] the pictures in the same fashion. […] As long as the cleansing of all the RTF personnel is not done (there are five times too many employees anyway), this magnificent instrument of support of the public mind will remain a means to taint it. (de Gaulle, 1986, p. 369) These interventions and dismissals had wider implications than simply affecting turnover along political lines. They sent the message to the staff that competence and qualifications did not matter as much as political patronage for job security and promotion. They moulded journalists’ expectations and suggested to them that political loyalty mattered more than professional standards. In addition to the threat of dismissal, the arbitrary character of the interventions contributed to the installation of a climate of fear at the ORTF (Brochand, 1994, p. 126). This atmosphere bred self-censorship among ORTF journalists who were in fear of being sacked or sidelined for political reasons.

6.1.2

Directives and the SLII

The government also controlled the national broadcaster through directives. These are instructions given by authorized members of the government to staff of the national broadcaster about news selection, news coverage and the broadcaster’s programming at large. The frequency of these directives varied according to the political and administrative personnel in charge. Between 1958 and 1963, directives to RTF journalists were issued from the Ministry of Information. Until the inauguration of the new broadcasting house at Quai Kennedy in December 1963, the Minister of Information and the RTF directors shared the same premises, at 36 Avenue de Friedland. The minister lived on the top floor with his family; his office and Cabinet were located on the floor below, followed by the offices of the RTF Director General and that of the Director of Information. The minister had on his desk a keyboard wired to bells that summoned the RTF Director General and senior administrative staff (Peyrefitte, interview, 4 May 1999). For example, Jacques Sallebert, the RTF Director of Information for few months in the late 1950s, admitted being summoned ‘nearly


every morning’ by either the Minister of Information, at this time Roger Frey, or his chief of staff (Sallebert, 1975, p. 177). The Ministry of Information and the offices of the RTF directors were separated in 1963,1 but direct contact was maintained between the ministry and the ORTF through ‘direct’ phone lines2 that were laid between the two buildings. Despite claims to the contrary, these lines were never closed during the de Gaulle presidency. Jean-Pierre Hutin, in charge of the ORTF at the Ministry of Information in 1967 and 1968, confirmed that he used them every day to call the editors and journalists responsible for the news bulletin and he specified that he allowed ‘very small leeway’ (in Filiu, 1984, p. 212). The creation of the Interministerial Information Liaison Service (Service de liaison interministérielle pour l’information, SLII), in July 1963, made the relationship between the government and the national broadcaster less conspicuous. This service had several purposes. Firstly, it was a press office that centralized, coordinated and disseminated governmental information. In this capacity, the SLII issued what were known as ‘blue notes’ to journalists and opinion leaders. These were notices detailing the government’s viewpoint and position on current affairs. One of SLII’s directors, Jacques Leprette, explained that these memos had no identification mark, except for a blue band running across the page, in order not to compromise the ‘chances of survival’ of these memos by disclosing ‘a specific governmental source’ (Leprette, 1994, p. 128). Secondly, the SLII worked as a relay between the government and the national broadcaster. It organized daily meetings at 11 am with representatives of the relevant ministries and ORTF journalists. Government representatives began with a review of the last news bulletins and then gave journalists their instructions for the day’s newscasts (Durieux, 1976, pp. 34–6). According to an ORTF senior manager who attended these meetings, recommendations covered things television had to hush up and events that deserved special attention, such as official ceremonies, commemorations, and so on (Diligent, 1968, p. 123). Many observers claimed that the SLII was the key component of the ORTF information system and the place where news bulletins were made. Only weeks after the creation of the bureau, the publication of a political party from the government majority stated that ‘as far as information is concerned, the news bulletin has more


to do with the SLII than the sixth floor of rue Cognacq-Jay [an RTF building]’ (in Diligent, 1968, p. 122; see also Saldich, 1970, pp. 52–3). The SLII had three successive directors: Jacques Leprette (July 1963–January 1966), Michel Barbier (January 1966–January 1968) and Michel Denieul (January 1968–May 1968). It was particularly active as an organ of censorship during the directorship of Barbier (Bourdon 1990, p. 103), but both Leprette and Denieul admit to giving ‘suggestions’ to journalists (interviews, 6 and 11 May 1999). The Gaullist Director of Information at the ORTF between 1965 and 1969, Edouard Sablier, has a particularly vivid memory of the Denieul directorship: Denieul was a catastrophe … he understood nothing. He thought he was here to give orders to the radio and television … he would tell us: ‘a minister said that this should not be talked about’, ‘On television, you must mention this’, ‘On television, you have to interview so and so’, etc. He was the boss. (in Hoyer, 1998, p. 97) The SLII came to the attention of the press shortly before the crisis of May 1968. Suddenly, a flurry of news reports were published on what, so far, had remained a mysterious office (Bourdon, 1994, p. 97). The SLII also became the target of a political campaign from the opposition. Late in March, a Communist deputy put forward a written question challenging the legality of the SLII (La Correspondance de la presse, 29 March 1968). A few weeks later, the motion of censure tabled by the Socialists against the government’s broadcasting policy described the office as an ‘authentic organ of censorship’ (La Correspondance de la presse, 18 April 1968; see also Section 5.3). The SLII was in danger of becoming the Bastille of the Gaullist regime, now standing as the symbol of government subjugation of the ORTF. It was scrapped shortly after the crisis, to be replaced by the Comité Interministériel pour l’Information (CII) in November 1968. 6.1.3

Pressure calls and direct interventions

The official channels of communication between the government and the national broadcaster did not prevent members of the government and other state institutions from directly pressurizing


ORTF journalists. Ministers, high-ranking civil servants and public officials rang them on a routine basis to address queries, complaints and admonitions. ORTF journalists felt harassed by these interventions, which they found ‘suffocating’, as they told the Minister of Information during one of their meetings in May 1968. They complained that ‘all the ministers and administrative offices intervene in the current system’ (in Frédéric, 1968, p. 52).3 Recorded occurrences run through the de Gaulle presidency (see, for example, Bourdon, 1990, p. 104). In 1960, Claude Durieux, Le Monde media correspondent, reviewed some of the interventions he had come across during the year. He mentioned the occurrence of a minister threatening to resign over a particular news report, and sighed: ‘[n]ot a week passes by at the RTF without similar incidents happening’ (Le Monde, 3 mars 1960). A few years later, a leading article in a television magazine drew up a list of programmes that had been censored as a result of these interventions. One of the ills of television, the article stated, was that ‘[f]rom M. Bordaz [RTF Director General] to M. Pompidou, many powers meddle with programmes on French television’ (Les Cahiers de la télévision, 4, April 1963, p. 5). Jacques Thibau, head of the second channel from 1965 to 1967, recalls the hassling he had endured on many occasions. On one occasion, the Director General of French customs threatened to send his officers to seize a newscast unless he could preview it. On another occasion, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs sequestered reels of film for a programme a producer working abroad had sent to France via the diplomatic service. They, too, wanted to preview the programme. In 1966, Thibau was prevented by an intervention from the same ministry from commemorating the tenth anniversary of the Budapest tragedy and the military operation in Suez (Thibau, 1970, pp. 26, 114). The Ministry of Foreign Affairs was always concerned with the impact of television on French diplomatic relations. In their view, the ORTF newscasts were interpreted by foreign regimes as the near equivalent of an official declaration from the Quai d’Orsay. In 1963, a civil servant from the Foreign Ministry prevented a documentary on Nasserism in the Middle East from going on air out of fear that it would compromise the renascent relationship between France and the Arab nations (Le Monde, 3 March 1963). The same year, an inter-


view with Khruschev, recorded for the commemoration of the Battle of Stalingrad, was banned because it would have recalled the German occupation of France at the moment of the signing of a Franco-German Treaty (Les Cahiers de la télévision, 4, April 1963, p. 4). In 1965, Peyrefitte asked Thibau to set up a series of political debates on the second channel, which was given more leeway than the first. He scheduled a monthly programme, Face à face, starting in January 1966, in which four journalists interviewed a political figure. The series gave the rare opportunity to political leaders from the opposition to express themselves on television. For the first time journalists also displayed a more confrontational attitude with politicians, although they proved to be far more aggressive with the few that had been invited from the opposition than with those from the majority (Diwo, 1976, p. 101; see also Esquenazi, 1999, pp. 75–87). The idea of a television debate was too liberal for the taste of many and Face à face was soon threatened with complaints from all quarters. The producers faced formidable opposition for each broadcast and the programme did not survive a year. Seemingly on the decision of the Prime Minister, it ceased broadcasting in September 1966 and was replaced by En direct (Télé 7 Jours, 17 September 1966; La Correspondance de la presse, 14 September 1966, 5 October 1966). En direct got rid of the journalists altogether and staged a contest between two politicians. But even it did not fare much better than its predecessor and was soon interrupted. The government intended to participate in the choice of guests, and deputies from the majority sought to depoliticize the broadcast since they felt that it favoured the opposition (Diwo, 1976, p. 120). The producers of En direct, as previously those of Face à face had done, had simply tried to balance the airtime between the leaders of the majority and those of the opposition but were unable to maintain this parity in many cases. At the same time, in December 1965, Zoom was launched on the second channel. It was a current affairs magazine and attempted to treat social issues – such as housing and unemployment – which had been taboo on television so far. Its two producers rapidly admitted that they faced an uphill struggle for every single issue and the programme soon ran into trouble (Télé 7 Jours, 13 January 1966, pp. 44–5). One of the interventions taken against Zoom became a


cause célèbre when, in April 1967, the ORTF Director General, the President of the Board of Trustees, the Director of Citroën, the prefect of the department and the mayor of the city where the Citroën factory was located, joined forces to obtain the cancellation of the April edition of Zoom, which was devoted to a car worker sacked because of his unionist activities. Zoom won the battle but was about to lose the war, as the Minister of the Interior successfully lobbied the Cabinet to have the programme removed from television screens. The Minister of the Interior backed his campaign with a report established by one of the French intelligence services that dwelled at length on the pernicious influence of the ‘communists’ and ‘cryptocommunists’ at the ORTF (in Thibau, 1970, p. 276). Such reports reflected and reinforced the belief held by many Cabinet members and senior civil servants that the enemy had set foot within the state broadcaster. De Gaulle himself often referred to the ORTF personnel as his ‘adversaries’ (Peyrefitte, 1997, p. 174; Foccart, 1997, p. 573). Once, he fulminated against a programme and exclaimed: ‘Is there not a single Gaullist at the ORTF?’ (in Foccart, 1997, p. 768).4 The Gaullists were, in their own eyes, justified in closely watching ORTF journalists and the pressure came from the highest level. As René Bernard, an RTF journalist, recalls: We know, for instance, that Michel Debré [then Prime Minister] watches the 1 pm news bulletin every Sunday. On Sundays, he stays at his country house in Versailles and he has time on his hands. It is almost certain that within half-an-hour he will call the Minister of Information, who will call André Gérard [the Director of Information], who will call Pierre Sabbagh [head of news bulletins], who will call, etc. (Bernard, 1961, p. 66) An ORTF director confirmed the Prime Minister’s habit: ‘Michel Debré’s phone calls at home after the Sunday news bulletin were a sort of an institution. When the phone rang on Sunday around 2 pm, my children would shout ‘Daddy, it’s Debré’ … . ‘Once out of twice they were right’ (in Bourdon, 1994, p. 66). Beyond the specific purpose of the Prime Minister’s call, he was in effect telling journalists that someone in charge was paying attention to what they were doing.


This feeling was compounded by the common knowledge that de Gaulle was a keen television viewer. He was sometimes referred to as the ‘First Viewer of France’. When possible, de Gaulle tried to finish work by 8 pm in order to follow the news bulletin. Circumstances allowing, he would then have dinner and follow the evening programme (Foccart, 1997, pp. 236, 412, 740; Peyrefitte, interview, 4 May 1999). There is only one recorded intervention of de Gaulle at the ORTF. Novelist Romain Gary, an adviser to the Minister of Information, remembers when a furious president rang the ORTF to complain that a journalist had addressed a worker in too familiar terms, employing the personal pronoun ‘tu’ instead of the more formal ‘vous’ (in Le Monde, 23 June 1968). Jacques Foccart would intervene on de Gaulle’s behalf. Before the legislative elections of March 1967, the president requested that Foccard took the necessary steps to ensure that all key ministers were interviewed on television before the start of the electoral campaign (Foccart, 1997, p. 541). During the campaign, the president exploded because the ORTF had shown a footage of centrist Jean Lecanuet outside the time allocated to political party broadcasts. Foccart replied that he had already remonstrated with the ORTF Director General and ordered him ‘not to do such a thing again’ (ibid., p. 561). As de Gaulle continued to fulminate against the ORTF, saying that it would be deplorable if every opposition leader was given the opportunity to expose his views on television, Foccart reassured him by saying that the ‘orders’ he had given were ‘stringent’: ‘no one will appear on television’ (ibid., p. 561). In other circumstances, Foccart made revealing comments about his habits: ORTF executives are not vigilant enough with radio, and I cannot intervene all the time. I already intervene very often, too often even, with those in charge of the newscast, when I hear the 7 am news bulletin, asking them to stop saying stupidities. (Foccart, 1998, p. 332) De Gaulle also frequently sent notes to his successive ministers of information requesting interventions. On 13 February 1962, he asked for precise figures to be quoted on air regarding a strike,


‘otherwise’, he added, ‘the good “progressives” of our news bulletin will declare urbi et orbi that the strike has been massively followed. They will say it to prepare the next one’ (de Gaulle, 1986, p. 208). On 2 February 1963, the president wrote: ‘I cannot understand why or how the RTF broadcast the odious spectacle of a surgical operation without anaesthesia last night. […] More than ever, it appears that the RTF, whilst under the direct tutelage of the State and financed by it, is an uncontrolled fiefdom left to the “lobbies”’5 (ibid., p. 311). On 3 April 1963, de Gaulle complained about the day’s news bulletin: ‘Today, it is only a matter of strikes, protest movements and social unrest. […] Milk has increased by four centimes, etc. Nothing else is happening in France. All this is “delivered” by a “journalist” who obviously has not been given directives, and if he has received any, he chooses to ignore them’ (de Gaulle, 1986, pp. 326–7). Former Gaullist ORTF directors do not dispute the fact that public officials and high-ranking civil servants intervened at the national broadcaster, they simply play down the frequency of these interventions (see, for example, Christian Chavanon in Le Monde, 3 March 1960). As frequent as their calls might have been, this rate of occurrence is not necessarily indicative of the nature of the relationship between the regime and the broadcaster. Such interventions did not need to be frequent to be effective. Following de Gaulle’s note to his Prime Minister, dated 29 September 1959, requesting the national broadcaster to keep silent on the latest declaration from the Algerian resistance movement, how many RTF journalists took the risk of airing subsequent declarations of the Front de libération nationale in the following months? (de Gaulle, 1985, pp. 259–60). At least the incessant interventions from Cabinet members and high-ranking civil servants accustomed journalists to receiving instructions. The medium was the message, in the sense that these interventions, aside from their specific commands, undermined journalists’ sense of independence and responsibility. For many journalists, caution became second nature. As Bernard recalls: ‘journalists knew in advance what would please the government. They also knew which priority to assign to the news. The unavowed censorship changed into self-censorship’ (Bernard, 1961, p. 66). Several contemporary observers agree that self-censorship may well have


been the most pervasive form of censorship at the ORTF (Lazareff, 1963, p. 84; André Harris and Alain de Sédouy, in Télé 7 Jours, 13 January 1966, p. 44). Further, these interventions were all the more extraordinary considering the other ways the government had at its disposal to influence the output of the national broadcaster. They were also remarkable given the fact that the individuals who accepted work in this system were either loyal to the Gaullists or amenable and resilient by nature.6

6.2

Power and information

The hold of the government over television affected the nature of the ORTF’s output. This section examines the implications for political reporting and presidential coverage. 6.2.1

Political reporting

French television did not present the news from an independent viewpoint but from that of the government.7 This inherent and structural bias was evident in both news selection and framing. Because of direct government interference (at one stage during the Algerian war, the Minister of Information himself drafted the evening news bulletins), suitability considerations for news stories included extrajournalistic criteria. Events were selected for their propaganda value as much as their newsworthiness. As a consequence, many news reports about government programmes or activities had no particular news value and were broadcast without any particular topicality. On the other hand, some obviously newsworthy events were left out altogether. A classic example of this policy is the news coverage of May 1968 or, rather, the absence of it. As detailed in Section 5.4, the ORTF showed nothing of the revolt before 11 May, a whole eight days after the students began to occupy the Sorbonne and five days after the severe clashes between students and riot forces.8 News framing reflected the same political priorities. News reports were framed according to the government’s viewpoint, story angles fitted the government’s propaganda objectives, and journalists used in their own commentaries words or idioms that first appeared in official statements. On 26 November 1962, journalists on the


evening news presented the results of the second round of the legislative elections. During a 43-minute bulletin, the Minister of the Interior commented on the election for approximately eight minutes. The opposition parties had not been invited to give their thoughts, but a six-minute report detailed reactions to the election in foreign capitals and the international press. When the correspondent in Washington spoke, he expressed his regrets that the US government did not issue an official declaration, and then made one of his own: ‘Even though France is a difficult ally, it is certain that between a country shaken by perpetual crises [the Fourth Republic] and a strong and united nation [the Fifth Republic], the preference of the Americans is clear’. Quite apart from the questionable practice, from a journalistic standpoint, of attributing to the US government an opinion it did not commit itself to, both the idea of the contrast between the Fourth Republic riddled with political conflicts and the supposed strength of the Fifth Republic, and that of France as a difficult American ally, were frequent themes of the Gaullist propaganda that de Gaulle himself had often evoked in these very same terms. In many news reports the government guidelines were tangible. Journalists betrayed the fact that they were following very strict instructions by over-repeating the same idioms and catchphrases. On 28 September 1958, the RTF devoted several hours of programming to the first legislative elections of the new regime. One of the very few things journalists said during the programme was that voters were more numerous on this occasion than at the last legislative elections, under the Fourth Republic. The subtext here was that the greater number of voters underlined the legitimacy of the new regime. The other key point proceeded from the same logic as journalists emphasized the importance of everyone fulfilling his or her ‘electoral duty’. This reportage, as many others, stayed within the very narrow boundaries defined by the government who had demanded that journalists stay ‘on message’. Another illustration of this was the evening news bulletin on 1 June 1968. The news report was trying to convey the idea that after weeks of unrest, things were getting back to normal and workers were returning to work. In the space of six minutes, the voice-over repeated 22 times either the phrase ‘resumption of work’, the noun ‘resumption’ or the verb ‘resume’. Gaullist television, it


seemed, was more concerned with delivering the message than with informing its viewers, and thus created a marked discrepancy between reality and the reporting of it.9 6.2.2

Presidential coverage

Another distinctive feature of news reporting at this time was presidential coverage. De Gaulle occupied the centre stage of the national broadcaster’s news bulletins. Many events featuring de Gaulle were covered on the news, including official visits by foreign heads of state, state ceremonies, commemorations, anniversaries and inaugurations, and such events were numerous during the de Gaulle presidency. None of de Gaulle’s activity was so mundane as to be ignored. When de Gaulle left the country, a one- to two-minute report would show his motorcade arriving at the airport, de Gaulle walking alone on the tarmac (ministers and members of the entourage would walk in pack behind the president), de Gaulle saluting the flag while listening to the national anthem and finally de Gaulle embarking on his airplane, the French Caravelle (see Figure 6.1). The president’s dominance of television coverage can be seen in three of his trips to the provinces, to southwestern France in February 1959, to the north in September 1959, and to Languedoc in February 1960. As Table 6.1 shows, on average, 36.3 per cent of the day’s news bulletins were devoted to de Gaulle. Whereas the average length of a report on de Gaulle was 8 min 30s, other news stories were only given approximately 1 min 15s each. This pattern was followed for the three days of each provincial trip, with even more time given to de Gaulle during the midday and late evening news bulletins. The gap in duration between the de Gaulle stories and the other news items suggests another characteristic of these news bulletins in the contrasting nature of the news stories: At least half of each news bulletin was devoted to official ceremonies, without any attempt to give the public an understanding of the wider significance of such events. Ministers appeared and were ‘interviewed’ by ORTF journalists with kidgloves. Speeches made in the Assembly were reported tendentiously: opposition politicians were shown stumbling over their words for example.


Figure 6.1 Stills of de Gaulle’s departure for an official visit to Italy, 25 June 1959

Motorcade arriving at Orly Airport

De Gaulle on the tarmac

Band playing the national anthem

De Gaulle saluting the flag

Entourage, following de Gaulle

The Caravelle

Source: Institut National de l’Audiovisuel


Table 6.1 Percentage of time devoted to de Gaulle’s trips versus other topics in four news bulletins Date of news bulletin

De Gaulle’s trips (%)

News items with voice-over (%)

Topics read by speaker (%)

15 February 1959 16 February 1959 24 September 1959 25 February 1960

45.2 28 32.9 39.1

24 42.7 67.1 16.1

30.8 29.3 – 44.8

Average

36.3

37.5

26.2

The remaining minutes were filled with trivia: dog shows, beauty contests, suburban misadventures told with heavy humour. The whole thing was a mixture of government propaganda and meaningless anecdote. (Thomas, 1976, p. 20) In terms of news framing, de Gaulle also received unprecedented treatment from the state broadcaster. News reports were deferential and devoid of the slightest scent of criticism. Journalists never said anything politically meaningful, nor did they analyse the political process or scrutinize a government decision. French television was a theatre on whose stage the government performed every evening. The role of journalists was the same as that of technicians in a theatre: to ensure the smooth running of the performance. For example, reports on provincial trips were carefully framed, both the camera angles and the commentaries aimed at demonstrating the wide support de Gaulle enjoyed among the population. Wide shots showed huge crowds listening to de Gaulle’s public addresses and close-ups focused on enthusiastic supporters shouting, clapping and waving flags and portraits of the French leader (see Figure 6.2). The extent of the bias of French television in favour of de Gaulle can be illustrated with a series of ten roundups summarizing the week’s main events that were broadcast between 23 September 1962 and 16 December 1962. The president appears in all of these, sometimes several times. In six cases the first sentence of the commentary mentions de Gaulle; of these six roundups, three open with an image of de Gaulle, and one with a long shot of the Elysée. A week before the referendum on the election of the president by universal suffrage on 28 October, the 2.41-minute roundup includes a 40-


Figure 6.2 Stills from the news bulletins on 15, 16, 17 February 1959, of de Gaulle’s trip to southwestern France, 14–18 February 1959

Public address, Tarbes

Flag and portrait, Pau

Young supporters showing portrait, Pau

Reaching for hands, Perpignan


second excerpt of an address by de Gaulle, which had been repeatedly broadcast on previous days. The background music during the de Gaulle address was as remarkable as the length of the excerpt: a piece by Marc-Antoine Charpentier, a composer of the second half of the seventeenth century. The triumphant melodies and brilliant instrumentation featuring French horns, trumpets, and baroque percussion are a powerful evocation of the splendour of royal courts and the past grandeur of French monarchs. The most significant roundup of the series is the fourth, broadcast on 14 October 1962, four days after de Gaulle had dissolved the National Assembly following its motion of censure against his gov-


ernment on 5 October. Following one of the most crucial weeks of the de Gaulle presidency, de Gaulle is conspicuously absent from this news report. Although the footage shows the National Assembly the voice-over simply says, ‘In France, the Assembly has been dissolved, the legislative elections have been fixed for 18 and 25 November, and the battle for the referendum has started ahead of time’. What is remarkable here is that although de Gaulle has exercised the formidable power of dissolving a representative assembly (a prerogative very few presidents possess), he does not appear once in the report and the commentary employs the passive voice to avoid any mention of his name. De Gaulle is not alluded to in the context of a crisis in which he played a major role. However, the president appears in the same roundup attending naval manoeuvres on board an aircraft carrier. Another sequence shows de Gaulle admiring recent models and prototypes at the Paris car show (referred to as a ‘museum of modern art’!). Thus the roundup tried to convey the idea that de Gaulle was not only detached from, but also above, political squabbling. The sequence on the aircraft carrier displays de Gaulle at his best: dressed in his military uniform playing the role of the chief of state in charge of national security. Whereas the footage at the Paris car show associates de Gaulle with progress, modernity and performance, the naval episode stands for order. The implied message of the roundup is ‘order and progress’ in contrast to the confused imagery of the Assembly. This series of roundups demonstrates how the output of the national broadcaster was determined less by journalistic values than by political considerations. These roundups were political messages in disguise, produced with propaganda in mind. On this evidence, the French national broadcaster can be seen to have been given very little leeway indeed by the Gaullist regime.

6.3

Access to television

The government’s grip on the national broadcaster also had implications concerning access to it. Throughout the de Gaulle presidency, power in that matter remained in the hands of the government, even if governmental policy over access evolved over the course of the 1960s.


Until 1964, government doctrine echoed that of the Fourth Republic and access to the national broadcaster was a government privilege. The opposition was virtually excluded from radio and television as de Gaulle had been during the previous regime (see Chapter 4). When the policy changed, in theory, the general rule became as follows: one third for the government, one third for the majority and one third for the opposition (Peyrefitte, interview, 4 May 1999). There was still no parity between the government majority and the opposition, and it is doubtful that the rule was ever respected. Even though the opposition made progress in terms of access during the de Gaulle presidency, the government always retained ultimate control and granted itself as much time as was needed. One of the tasks of the SLII was to regulate ministers’ appearances on television. Some evenings, Peyrefitte says, there were several ministers on television followed by other evenings when there were none (interview, 4 May 1999). Since the SLII decided on each appearance, it attracted the ‘hostility of all the ministers’ (Michel Denieul, interview, 6 May 1999). That the ministers’ ire was directed against the SLII is indicative of the lack of autonomy of the broadcaster in this matter. Another example of the government’s unlimited access to national television was given by the Prime Minister’s comments at a Cabinet meeting in April 1967. Georges Pompidou remonstrated that: ‘Ministers should limit their appearances on television. The public gets fed up when it hears a minister every day. It is saturated with opening ceremonies for bridges and exhibitions’ (in Peyrefitte, 2000, p. 231).

6.3.1

Access to television during electoral campaigns

Access to the national broadcaster during electoral campaigns was practically restricted to a government monopoly until the 1965 presidential election. Despite requests from the opposition, none of the laws relating to the organization of referenda and elections taking place between 1959 and 1964 concerned legislation on political party broadcasts. In 1961, the Minister of Information took the precaution of declaring in the Senate that ‘the principle of the use of


radio and television for electoral propaganda is not mentioned in any text’ (in Le Monde, 12 July 1961). Until 1965, that the government virtually monopolized the national broadcaster was evidenced during the two legislative elections of November 1958 and November 1962. The seven-minute airtime granted to each party represented in Parliament was no compensation for the continuous stream of government propaganda and the unlimited access to the broadcaster enjoyed by Cabinet members and majority representatives. The opposition outcry against this governmental privilege became particularly vehement at the November 1962 legislative elections. The editor of L’Express, Jean-Jacques Servan-Schreiber, summarized the feeling of many in the opposition when he wrote that Gaullism is ‘all in all, personal power plus monopoly over television’ (L’Express, 27 September 1962). A month later, 19 prominent academic figures – among them Raymond Aron – signed a petition urging the RTF to open its doors to the opposition and provide ‘public and contrasting information’ (in Le Monde, 23 October 1962). The inequality of access remained flagrant during the campaign for the local elections in March 1965. Again, the disparity provoked a public uproar and, in the early weeks of March, the opposition parties in their entirety proclaimed their outrage. The affair reached the National Assembly, where the deputies across the opposition ranks cited scores of examples of Gaullist candidates being given full coverage while opponents were barely mentioned. In Nice, while the Gaullist candidate appeared nearly every day on the regional news bulletin, the prefect forbade local cinemas to show a short film that Mayor Jean Médecin had produced himself to compensate for his lack of airtime (J.O. Assemblée nationale, 30 April 1965, p. 1049). Similar cases were reported in Bordeaux and Lille. In Marseille, Socialist Mayor Gaston Defferre claimed that he never appeared on the regional news bulletin in the weeks preceding the electoral campaign, despite ‘important inaugurations’ (ibid., p. 1058). Frustrated by the preference given to the Gaullist candidate, he allegedly met with the ORTF regional director, to be told that he was only carrying out orders from Paris. To Defferre’s denial, the Minister of Information Alain Peyrefitte, to whom the meeting had been reported, replied that he would have threatened the director, telling him that if he did not appear on television, he


and the ORTF Director General would be sacked once he became President of the Republic (ibid., pp. 1059–60). The government also denied, as a Communist deputy claimed, that a civil servant at the Ministry of the Interior would ring ORTF regional directors and give them the list of local councils eligible for a news report on the evening regional bulletins (J.O. Assemblée nationale, 30 April 1965, p. 1045). It is in the course of these heated exchanges with the opposition that Peyrefitte resorted to an argument that became notorious: In certain regions, the opposition has at its disposal a near monopoly on the press, which is in its favour […]. For freedom of judgement to exist, there needs to be a dialogue. Precisely, television can play a role of balance in these regions […]. It becomes a condition for the freedom of judgement of the electorate. (ibid., p. 1059) It may be that in southwestern France, the press was, in the main, hostile to the Gaullists (see Chapter 2). It remains the case that Peyrefitte’s concept freed the national broadcaster from the duty of fairness and impartiality and unwittingly confirmed the inequality of access to the ORTF. Significant progress was made for the 1965 presidential election, when the government finally passed legislation on political party broadcasts. The decree of March 1964 implemented a new broadcasting law stipulating that all candidates must receive equality of treatment during the electoral campaign. It allotted two hours of radio and two hours of television to each candidate for each round (J.O. Lois et décrets, 16–17 March 1964, pp. 2491–2). This was also the first time that the notion of fairness was applied in a legal text relative to broadcasting in France. A committee was created with the task of controlling the regularity of the electoral campaign and the respect of the clause of equality in broadcasting. It revealed itself to be very punctilious (Rochecorbon, 1966). The presidential candidates – notably centrist Jean Lecanuet and Socialist François Mitterrand – made full use of their airtime. Although they were established politicians and fairly well known to the public they had rarely had the occasion to express their views so fully on television in the past. Thus, their prolonged appearances on


television screens astonished the public and became a talking point in the press. Even the staunchly Gaullist France-Soir reported: The impact of opposition candidates on television is, to a great extent, due to the intrusion of true ‘Martians’ who expressed themselves on the regime and the chief of state with a liberty and a vigour that would have less surprised viewers if, during the last seven years, they had been used to hearing such commentaries during the debates. (France-Soir, 4 December 1965)10 Two main factors explain the sudden generosity of the government with airtime. De Gaulle was keen to establish a precedent of good practice in respect to the presidential election. On the other hand, he was complacent about the election and was contemptuous of the opposition, as his behaviour during the campaign showed (Section 7.3). However, de Gaulle himself recognized he had made a mistake by allowing far too much airtime to the opposition. For the following presidential election, he thought it preferable to divide it equally between the candidate of the majority and the ensemble of the candidates of the opposition (Peyrefitte, interview, 4 May 1999). In addition, the airtime allocated to the opposition was more than compensated for by the rest of the ORTF programming, which, by many accounts, was strongly slanted in favour of the de Gaulle candidacy.11 The viewing public also witnessed a procession of Cabinet members on the evening news bulletin. This led to a controversy, and Alain Peyrefitte retorted at a public meeting that even though ministers were prevented from appearing too frequently on television during the electoral campaign, they kept the right to publicly express their views as ordinary citizens (in La Correspondance de la presse, 19 November 1965). A new electoral law, comprising a section on political party broadcasts, was voted by the National Assembly on 7 December 1966, in time for the legislative elections of March 1967. This law allotted a total of three hours of radio and television airtime to political party broadcasts for the first round and 90 minutes for the second round. This airtime was equally divided between the majority and the opposition, and de Gaulle’s broadcast addresses were not taken into account because the president was ‘above political parties’ (La Correspondance de la presse, 5, 8 December 1966). Despite the new


legislation, access became an issue again. Outside the guaranteed airtime for political broadcasts, Gaullist candidates continued to get much wider access to the national and regional news bulletins. Thus legal progress was made during the de Gaulle presidency, but not to the extent of changing political practices, and access to the national broadcaster remained difficult for the opposition during electoral campaigns.

6.3.2

General access

Access to the national airwaves remained difficult for the opposition outside electoral periods as well. In 1963, Communist deputy Fernand Grenier cited a study counting the number of appearances of politicians at the evening news bulletin from 1 June 1958 to 31 December 1962. Over this four-and-a-half-year period, de Gaulle appeared on the news bulletin 502 times (without taking account of press conferences and public addresses), Prime Minister Michel Debré 318 times, Speaker Jacques Chaban-Delmas, also Gaullist, 123 times, Communist Jacques Duclos 8 times, and Communist Maurice Thorez 4 times (J.O. Assemblée nationale, 14 June 1963, p. 3425). These figures are congruent with a statement from the Minister of Information in 1961 who confessed that, so far, the government had only begun to open access to the national broadcaster for the ‘important elections’ (in Bourdon, 1990, p. 109). During the parliamentary debate on the Broadcasting Act in 1964, access to the national broadcaster became one of the most contentious issues. Centrist deputy Maurice Faure claimed that his party (90 deputies) was excluded from television all year round, except for 45 seconds for the closing ceremony of his party’s annual conference (J.O. Assemblée nationale, 26 May 1964, p. 1415).12 Grenier voiced his frustration over the fact that in one hundred days, only three news stories were related to Communist local councils in his region, while two-thirds of the local councils that appeared on television were from a department where four out of five deputies were Gaullist (J.O. Assemblée nationale, 26 May 1964, p. 1420). For 1967, a count gave the following airtimes (outside electoral campaigns): Prime Minister Georges Pompidou, 2 h 29 min 36 s; Minister of the Economy and Finance Minister Michel Debré, 1 h 11 min 13 s; leader of the left François Mitterrand, 35 min 18 s;


centrist Jean Lecanuet, 18 min 56 s; Communist Waldeck-Rochet, 16 min 24 s (Le Monde, 24 January 1967). When access was granted to the opposition, it was rarely at peak viewing times. As sociologist Anne Saldich explains: It was the least sympathetic members of the opposition, or those who were the least in view, who appeared on TV; or the leaders of the opposition were given airtime on Sunday morning at 9, or an evening during the week at 11, when the middle classes, country people and the working classes were most likely to be in bed. (Saldich, 1970, p. 32).13 Thus the opposition gained legal rights during the de Gaulle presidency, but the regime never relinquished overall control over access to the national broadcaster. In addition, legal progress did not offset deeply entrenched political practices, and the imbalance of access between the government and the opposition persisted both during and outside electoral campaigns.

6.4

Public discourse domesticated

If the state broadcaster had been given more independence, its output would have been different: access would have been fairer, news selection more balanced, news commentaries less circumspect and debates more open to contemporary issues. But government control over the sole national broadcasting organization ensured that its discourse remained a model of restraint and conformity. Programmes on sensitive issues were pre-viewed by ORTF directors and relevant members of the government and cuts were routinely imposed (see, for example, Louis, 1968, p. 75; Frédéric, 1968, pp. 25, 120). Many projects were rejected by the ORTF management at the proposal stage,14 while some news reports were withdrawn at the very last minute.15 Programmes perceived as controversial, such as La Caméra explore le temps or Face à Face, were discontinued (Sections 5.2 and 6.1.3). Twice, first in the wake of the 1964 reform and then in the aftermath of May 1968, the government ordered an overhaul of the broadcast output (Chapter 5). Reporters, correspondents, speakers and guests respected the etiquette and their discourse remained confined within the narrow


moral and political bounds set by the Gaullists. Journalists were terrified of the consequences of any audacity and their reporting was embarrassingly matter-of-fact. Many social issues, such as women’s rights, remained taboo, despite insistent requests from several quarters.16 Television access was even more restricted for civil society leaders than for the opposition. Trade unionists and leaders of women’s organizations were rarely, if ever, interviewed or given airtime, making television devoid of any alternative viewpoint. The result was a conventional television discourse that did not keep pace with the evolution of social values in the 1960s, but tried to impose on society the ideological mind-set of officialdom.

6.5

State television versus public television

The French television of the Gaullist era corresponds to a statist model of broadcasting that should be distinguished from the idealtypical public television. The difference between a public and a state broadcaster is based on the relationship that prevails between the broadcasting organization and government. When the government’s hold on the broadcaster is such that its influence on programming becomes decisive, the concept of state television should supersede that of public television. It would not be very discerning to put ORTF and a public broadcaster such as the British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC) in the same category. The independence of the BBC was not an issue in Britain in the 1960s. As demonstrated by the tension between the BBC and Prime Minister Harold Wilson, it enjoyed a degree of independence far superior to that of the ORTF (Briggs, 1995, pp. 559–61, 596).17 There are two main discursive differences between state broadcasters and public television networks. The journalistic standards of public television are higher than those of state broadcasters because of the former’s greater independence. When a government uses television for propaganda purposes, it introduces a strong bias in the process of news selection since criteria of suitability are subordinated to political ends. A state broadcaster censors events, views and analyses what a public television network may deem of interest to the viewing public, and may select news that solely benefits the government of the day.


News framing is affected by the same problem. News produced by state broadcasters is biased in the interest of the regime. News bulletins are produced with political goals in mind and news stories are tailored to improve the image of the government. In addition to the intentional distortion of events, which is inherent to the propaganda exercise, news is twisted inadvertently. Newsworkers appointed upon recommendation of government officials are likely to be strongly acquainted with the regime’s political mind-set and thus to read reality through a distorted prism. Public television is more pluralistic and representative than state broadcasting because it is more open to the opposition and minority groups. To give two examples: in Britain, the BBC follows, nolens volens, a policy of fairness that ensures that the amount of time devoted to the main political parties is in reasonable proportion to their parliamentary strength (Seymour-Ure, 1996, pp. 182–96). In the Netherlands, until the 1970s, airtime and control over programming was split among political parties, the churches and unions (Wieten, 1997). Public broadcasters should not be idealized. They experience constraints and pressure from governments and there can be connivance between broadcasting executives and government officials. Public broadcasters are not devoid of political bias and inequality of access may persist (Glasgow University Media Group, 1976, 1980). Nonetheless, the public remains better served by a public television network than with a state broadcaster. Public broadcasting benefits from legal dispositions that prevent excessive government influence. This helps to build confidence among staff and promotes an independent journalistic tradition. The norms of objectivity and neutrality, for what they are worth, are more likely to be respected in a public television network. In addition, the legal obligations of public broadcasters guarantee a relatively fair amount of access to the main political parties and representatives from civil society groups. Public television networks are more open to diversity and are closer to civil society than state broadcasters whose discourses often relay and rely on a single set of ideological tenets.

Part III De Gaulle and the Process of Public Communications


7 De Gaulle’s Communications Strategy

This chapter analyses de Gaulle’s communications strategy. Sections 7.1 and 7.2 examine de Gaulle’s broadcast addresses, interviews and press conferences. Section 7.3 studies de Gaulle’s strategy during the 1965 presidential campaign. Section 7.4 seeks to comprehend the origins of de Gaulle’s communications strategy: Section 7.4.1 argues that de Gaulle’s wartime experience accounts for his understanding of the importance of broadcasting media for political leadership. Section 7.4.2 claims that Gaulle’s inter-war writings on military strategy prefigure his broadcast communication style and handling of television. Section 7.4.3 contends that de Gaulle used the broadcasting media in order to perform ‘charismatic actions’. This notion refers to the public and broadcast acts that de Gaulle performed either to reinforce his charisma (charisma-reinforcing actions) or to make demands on people by relying on his charisma (charisma-spending actions). Section 7.4.4 reflects on the impact of the creation of the presidency on the French public communications system. Section 7.4.5 establishes that among the authors who made an impression on de Gaulle, it is social scientist Gustave Le Bon who most influenced his communications strategy.

7.1

Broadcast addresses and interviews

De Gaulle addressed the nation 79 times during his presidency, including 52 television addresses broadcast on radio and television, four radio addresses, five interviews and 18 press conferences (see Figure 7.1). 151

152

Figure 7.1

De Gaulle’s broadcast interventions from 1958 to 1969

12 10 8 6 4 2 0 1958

1959

1960

1961

1962

1963

1964

1965

1966

Broadcast Addresses

Radio Addresses

Interviews

Press Conferences

1967

1968

1969

De Gaulle’s Communications Strategy 153

Addresses were the most frequent type of broadcast interventions. De Gaulle’s first television address was broadcast from the residence of the Prime Minister on 27 June 1958. By many accounts, it was a poor performance. The French leader was hidden behind a forest of microphones and read a text with his face down, two-thirds turned away from the camera. Following this faux pas, he enlisted the help of advertiser Marcel Bleustein-Blanchet, comedian Jacques Anjubault and anchorman Pierre Sabbagh (Bahu-Leyser, 1989, p. 50). They helped him improve his style and henceforth he sat behind his desk, faced the camera and recited a learnt text. He spoke distinctly, articulating each syllable and purposefully modulating his intonation. He made much use of his hands, moving them around to emphasize key words, as illustrated in his address on 6 April 1962 (Figure 7.2). Figure 7.2

Stills from de Gaulle’s broadcast address on 6 April 1962

‘three changes’

‘stability’, ‘authority’

‘continuity’

‘contrasts’ (cont’)


Figure 7.2 Stills from de Gaulle’s broadcast address on 6 April 1962 (continued)

‘troubles’, ‘conflicts’, ‘rivalries’

‘vast ensemble’


When de Gaulle mentions the ‘three changes’ brought by the previous referenda, he raises three fingers. When he expands on this matter, he emphasizes each point (‘stability’, ‘authority’ and ‘continuity’) by briskly moving the right hand in front of his chest. He agitates the fist to underscore the contrast between the progress brought by these referenda in the African countries where they were applied and the nations still plagued by ‘troubles’, ‘conflicts’ and ‘rivalries’. He spreads his arms wide when he evokes the ‘vast ensemble’ of African countries affected by these referenda (de Gaulle, 1970d, pp. 398–9). De Gaulle’s good command of the French language allowed him to employ it resourcefully. His speech was direct and precise, and at the same time moving and evocative. His lexicon was varied, and yet he kept repeating over and again a handful of key words. The ten most often-used words in his addresses were ‘France’, ‘country’, ‘Republic’, ‘state’, ‘world’, ‘people’, ‘nation’, ‘progress’, ‘peace’ and ‘future’. ‘France’ was uttered ten times per allocution on average (Cotteret and Moreau, 1969, p. 7). These addresses were effective and viewers were mesmerized by de Gaulle’s performance.1 The president devised each address to personalize the issues at stake and many were personal appeals. Examples include the address given on the eve of the referendum on home rule for Algeria in January 1961. De Gaulle exclaimed: ‘I need, yes, I need!, to know what is in your hearts and minds. This is why I


come to you above the heads of all intermediaries. In truth – but who doesn’t know it? – this matter [the referendum] is between every one of you and me’ (de Gaulle, 6 January 1961, in de Gaulle, 1970d, p. 275). The address delivered on 4 November 1960 ends as follows: ‘Françaises, Français, I count on you. You can count on me’ (de Gaulle, 1970d, p. 262). Unlike press conferences, addresses were not performed routinely. De Gaulle made 11 addresses in 1962, but only one in 1966. With the exception of those delivered on New Year’s Eves, timing was always strategic and dictated by circumstances, as the following categories show. Broadcast addresses delivered during crises A first cluster of addresses are those delivered in seriously critical situations. They include the radio address of 25 January 1960, delivered the day after riots broke out in Algiers; the address of 29 January 1960, given in uniform during the same crisis; the address on 23 April 1961, de Gaulle’s second appearance in uniform when reacting to the pronunciamento of the four generals in Algeria (where they made an abortive attempt to seize power), and the radio address during the general strike, on 30 May 1968. Broadcast addresses delivered in difficult circumstances A second cluster is formed by addresses dealing with less dramatic but nonetheless unexpected and difficult circumstances. They include the following: 16 September 1959, de Gaulle suggesting home rule for Algeria; 31 May 1960, following the fiasco of the peace summit in Paris; 14 June 1960, containing a direct appeal to the leaders of the insurrection in Algeria; 4 November 1960, rebutting strong parliamentary criticisms of the military budget and of military violence in Algeria; 8 May 1961, in the aftermath of the pronunciamento in Algiers; 5 February 1962, following a series of terrorist strikes in Paris by the Organisation armée secrète (OAS) and counter-demonstrations organized by left-wing parties; 12 July 1961, during a tense period with the Soviet Union; 8 June 1962, facing infighting within the governmental majority; 19 April 1963, in the wake of a five-week-long miners’ strike; 27 April 1965, de Gaulle justifies his politics of independence during a strained period in diplomatic relations (France left the Gold Exchange Standard in


February) and the domestic front (the Gaullists have lost several important cities at the local elections in March); 10 August 1967, rebutting vehement criticisms from the opposition; 24 May 1968, delivered in the midst of the May 1968 revolt (six days before the emergency appeal of 30 May); 24 November 1968, de Gaulle announces his decision not to devalue the French currency despite economic difficulties. Broadcast addresses delivered in special circumstances A third category of addresses consists of those delivered in special circumstances. These include the four addresses given by de Gaulle following his return to power in May 1958: 13 June (broadcast on radio exclusively), 27 June, 13 July (radio), and 1 August 1958. In addition, 28 December 1958, delivered seven days after de Gaulle’s first election; 18 March 1962, announcing the success of the negotiations between the French and Algerian governments; 2 August 1964, commemorating the jubilee of the 1914 mobilization. Two addresses were delivered at the openings of parliamentary sessions on 2 October 19612 and 16 April 1964 and one at the end of an extraordinary session on 30 January 1959. Broadcast addresses delivered before referenda and elections Many addresses were delivered prior to referenda and elections. Altogether, and without taking into account the four addresses of the presidential campaign (included in de Gaulle’s quota of airtime), 17 addresses were delivered in such circumstances. The president delivered one address two days before the first referendum on 28 September 1958; three addresses 19 days, 8 days and 2 days before the second referendum on 8 January 1961; two addresses 13 days and 2 days before the third referendum on 8 April 1962; four addresses, 38 days, 24, 10 and 2 days before the fourth referendum on 28 October 1962; and two addresses, 47 days and 2 days prior to the last referendum on 27 April 1969. Thus de Gaulle spoke at least once two days before every referendum, and for the last two referenda, he delivered a pre-campaign address more than a month in advance. He followed a similar strategy for the presidential election in 1965, delivering an address ahead of the start of the electoral campaign. On these occasions he attempted to set the terms of the political debate that was about to take place.


De Gaulle was less active ahead of local and legislative elections. He did not intervene publicly for the first legislative elections in November 1958, he spoke once before the first round of the second legislative elections on 18 November 1962, he spoke twice before the first round of the legislative elections on 5 March 1967 and once before the first round of the last legislative elections on 30 June 1968. New Year’s Eve broadcast addresses Finally, eight addresses were delivered on New Year’s Eves, addresses in which de Gaulle rounded up the year and drew perspectives for the future. Interviews De Gaulle gave five broadcast interviews during his presidency. He did not like the format and recorded the interviews upon the insistence of his entourage, who believed that the president needed a more informal and intimate type of communication than the public address (Foccart, 1997, p. 298; Peyrefitte, interview, 4 May 1999). All five interviews were conducted by Michel Droit, a journalist and devout Gaullist. The president reluctantly agreed to the first series after failing to get the absolute majority at the first round of the presidential election in December 1965 (Figure 7.3). They were broadcast on 13, 14 and 15 December 1965. The fourth interview was broadcast on 7 June 1968, in the aftermath of the national crisis, and the last took place 17 days prior to the last referendum on 27 April 1969. Figure 7.3 De Gaulle’s third interview of the presidential campaign, with Michel Droit, 15 December 1965



The interviews were carefully prepared in advance. Even though de Gaulle occasionally modified the answers from one recording to the other, he knew the questions in advance, questions which were, in any case, not designed to unsettle him (Foccart, 1997, pp. 302–3).

7.2

Press conferences

De Gaulle’s press conferences were key moments of his presidency. Eagerly anticipated by journalists and government officials, they dominated the news for several days once they had taken place. They were held regularly twice a year, except in the years 1958, 1960, 1962 and 1968, when only one took place. Press conferences were held in the banqueting hall of the presidential residence. Approximately one thousand guests were invited to the event and it was for each of them a mark of honour to attend. They were mostly journalists and foreign correspondents, mixed with personnel from the ministries and foreign embassies. The speaker’s desk was placed on a platform and overlooked rows of chairs on each side. The collaborators of the presidential office sat on de Gaulle’s left and Cabinet members on his right, in the order prescribed by protocol. Press conferences began at 3 pm, at which time a red curtain was drawn and de Gaulle appeared to his audience. De Gaulle was not really facing the press the way American presidents do (see Section 9.2). It took him up to a month to prepare a text and learn by heart the third or fourth version. Some of his ‘answers’, which took up to 25 minutes to deliver, were constructed on the model of the French dissertation, with an introduction, a development and a conclusion. Journalists raised their questions at the beginning of the conference, which de Gaulle regrouped by theme and reformulated according to his prepared speech. He only took into account pre-arranged questions (his aides contacting journalists beforehand) and brushed away the few unexpected ones with a short joke or remark. These press conferences were speeches delivered in front of an audience of newspeople and personalities. They were dubbed ‘conferences to the press’ by the editor of Le Monde (Le Monde, 23 February 1966, in Beuve-Méry, 1974, p. 374). The matter of these conferences was as eminently presidential as their style. It is estimated that de Gaulle devoted on average twothirds of his press conferences to foreign affairs and one-third to


domestic issues; some conferences were entirely devoted to foreign politics (Pérol, 1994, p. 272). On a few occasions, the president made public policy decisions that were as much news to the public and journalists as they were to Cabinet members. The centrist ministers resigned the day after they had listened to de Gaulle’s disparaging comments on European integration on 15 May 1962. He also caused a shock when he made known his decision not to let Britain join the European Common Market on 14 January 1963. These press conferences had merits and drawbacks. Among the advantages, this formula allowed the president to give an in-depth treatment of topics he deemed of importance. His speech formed a coherent piece and was not interrupted with trivial questions and journalists could not interfere with queries that were of parochial interest. The dignity of the chief of state was preserved against offensive questions and his image and that of the state were enhanced by these performances. The president also wished to avoid the risk associated with improvised and spontaneous answers. When asked why he refused to answer journalists’ questions, he replied: ‘when I speak, I commit the state’ (in Pérol, 1994, p. 285). On the other hand, the democratic character of these press conferences would have been enhanced if journalists had at least a modest influence on their agenda. Had this been the case, de Gaulle would have discovered that foreign affairs did not rank first among the preoccupations of the French people, even in the 1960s. Journalists were not given the opportunity to ask follow-up questions, which would have allowed a chance to clarify some of the issues raised by the president. De Gaulle’s objective was not merely to inform the public. Solemn in tone and pompous in style, these events were not solely about news. As de Gaulle wrote, they were ‘ritual ceremonies’ (de Gaulle, 1970a, p. 303). These events possessed a strong symbolic dimension and were primarily designed to represent presidential authority. They were saturated with attributes of power: the venue, the large number of guests, the position of the speaker vis-à-vis the audience and the presence of the whole Cabinet in protocol order. These press conferences were constructed as a display of authority. Echoing certain aspects of the pre-modern public sphere, they were structured by the representational needs of power (Habermas, 1989,


p. 7). It does not mean that de Gaulle had a monarchical concept of the public sphere, but that he used and tailored these conferences to intervene in the public sphere according to the logic of representation. De Gaulle did not represent himself so much as the state and its most prominent institution, the presidency. These conferences offer a dramatic illustration of the influence of the ‘reason of state’ in de Gaulle’s handling of public communications (Section 9.1).

7.3

A reluctant campaigner: candidate de Gaulle

Ever since the electoral campaign began for the first presidential election by universal suffrage on 19 November 1965, de Gaulle was reluctant to enter into the electoral fray. Until the fourth week of November, he even obstructed his own campaign by discouraging the printing and distribution of a campaign letter, by preventing his ministers from rebutting the arguments of the opposition and by deterring Gaullist deputies from participating in debates on peripheral radio stations (Peyrefitte, 1997, p. 603). Although two hours of television and radio had been given to each of the six candidates, de Gaulle initially refused to speak more than once until nine days before the first round on 5 December. He finally agreed to two broadcast addresses on 26 November, following pleas from his collaborators (Foccart, 1997, p. 287). There were several reasons for this retreatism. In the first place, it was difficult for de Gaulle to swap his mantle of president for that of the candidate. It was a change of status that he felt would affect his dignity.3 He also thought that the electorate would not appreciate seeing him electioneering.4 Furthermore, he did not believe that the electorate would take his opponents seriously and that their television appearances would have any impact. Until the poor results of the first opinion polls sank in, he underestimated the final score of his main opponents by nearly a half5 (Foccart, 1997, p. 272). De Gaulle began to worry about the election less than a week before the first round, when the opinion polls stubbornly remained below his expectations. On 29 November 1959, results for the president were given at 51 per cent, Mitterrand at 28 per cent and Lecanuet at 12 per cent (ibid., p. 290). Never before had de Gaulle envisaged a situation where he was forced to a second ballot.


As a result, de Gaulle’s first address was recorded and broadcast only five days before the first round, on 30 November. He was, in addition, the victim of a jumble. The tape that was broadcast was not the final recording and came from one of the three back-up video recorders. It was badly out of focus and the president appeared ‘very old, very tired, with a very pale complexion’ (Foccart, 1997, p. 292). The address was cut in the mould of the previous ones, de Gaulle speaking as a chief of state, not as a candidate (de Gaulle, 1970e, pp. 406–8). He addressed the nation as a whole and made no particular pledges to specific categories of voters. Nor did he make an effort to increase the relevance of his address to the electorate by telling them how his policies would affect them. He kept the same approach for the second address, which was broadcast on 3 December. The results of the first round on 5 December6 came as a shock for the president, who did not expect to have to fight a second round (Peyrefitte, 1997, pp. 605–7). Despite this setback, he remained reluctant to run a campaign for the second round. He intended to use the same posters that had been displayed for the first round and refused to have a new photograph taken of himself (Foccart, 1997, p. 298). He also had to be persuaded to deliver more than one address (he eventually did two on 11 and 17 December) and to change his communication style into something more convivial: Between the two addresses [Foccart pleads to de Gaulle] you will need to give an informal talk. You need to be more direct, more human than during the speeches, which are not so effective because they are the recitation of a written text. You give the impression that you like France, but not the French, and that you worry about the future of France, but that you don’t care about the fate of her inhabitants. If you could show the way you are when you speak with ten persons, such as provincial mayors, during a conversation with a chosen interlocutor, it would change everything. (Foccart, 1997, p. 298) Peyrefitte gave him similar advice. He reminded him of the competitive nature of the election and told him that in that situation a language more ‘familiar’ than ‘the tone of the President speaking ex cathedra’ would be more appropriate (Peyrefitte, interview, 4 May 1999).


De Gaulle remained uneasy with these campaign tactics, and, although passably enervated by the insistence of his entourage, he finally acquiesced to the recording of three interviews on 13 December (Guichard, 1985, p. 230).7 This format was less formal than the addresses and showed de Gaulle in a more intimate and conversational mood. The president made an effort to get closer to the preoccupations of the ordinary citizen. He devoted less time to international politics and more to domestic affairs, expanding on the economy and the standard of living. Like his opponents, he said a few words to ease the fears of farmers and teachers. De Gaulle’s contribution to his own campaign is limited to four broadcast addresses and three interviews. All in all, he refused to endorse the role of candidate. He remained reluctant to enter the campaign and his communication style was too presidential to be effective.8

De Gaulle’s inactivity almost cost him dear. Until the last week of the campaign, his absence from the television screens, combined with the political party broadcasts of his opponents, took its toll on his re-election prospects. Voting intentions in favour of the incumbent of the presidency were dropping faster among those who had a television set than those who did not. Concomitantly, voting intentions in favour of Jean Lecanuet, the centrist candidate, were rising faster among those who had a television set than those who did not (Table 7.1). Table 7.1 Voting intentions among those who had and did not have a TV set in a period of six weeks before the first round of the presidential election (percentages) 22 Oct–5 Nov De Gaulle Mitterrand Lecanuet

Source:

Have TV set No TV set Have TV set No TV set Have TV set No TV set

Charlot et al., 1966, p. 188.

46 39 15 15 2 3

6–16 Nov 40 35 15 16 4 5

17–27 Nov

1–2 Dec

31 30.5 19.5 17.5 8 9

31.5 29.5 19 20 16.5 12


However, voting intentions for de Gaulle recovered just in time for the first round and over the last days the president almost regained the ground lost during the previous weeks. French political scientists claim that television and the electoral campaign did not modify the French electoral map, and that the candidates retrieved at the end of the campaign the electorate they had entered it with. In their view, the only difference made by television was to accelerate the rise of Jean Lecanuet, who inherited an already existing centrist vote (Charlot et al., 1966, p. 169). Their conclusions might have been different if de Gaulle had left television entirely to his opponents. His recovery must have been helped by his decision to use television, albeit in a limited manner.

7.4

The origins of de Gaulle’s communications strategy

Even though de Gaulle was a poor campaigner, he managed to create a communication style that was presidential in character. Most strikingly, he immediately integrated television in his communications strategy and used this emerging medium with much effect. This section attempts to grasp the origins of de Gaulle’s communications strategy, in particular the reasons why he embraced television so soon and with so much confidence. 7.4.1

The clash of ideologies: de Gaulle’s wartime experience

De Gaulle’s wartime experience is the most obvious reason for his realization of the importance of broadcasting media for political leadership. During the Second World War, de Gaulle saw how intensively propagandists used radio for their own purposes. In France alone, the airwaves were a battleground of their own. The Vichy government controlled the Radiodiffusion nationale, which it used to propagate the ‘Révolution nationale’, the regime’s political doctrine. In the occupied zone, the Propaganda Abteilung, a branch of the German military command, launched Radio Paris. The British secret services – to de Gaulle’s horror – created a pseudo-clandestine radio station in France, Radio Patrie (Eck, 1984, p. 104). Once the Americans had set foot in North Africa, they too began to broadcast towards France, as did the Soviet Union from 1941. Starting in June 1940, de Gaulle, by now in London, participated himself in this propaganda battle.


In July 1940, the BBC French service was expanded to face the war situation. The new service started every day at 8.15 pm with a tenminute news bulletin (written by British journalists and read in French), followed by the French National Committee for Liberation’s own broadcast for five minutes. It concluded with a half-hour programme of patriotic entertainment and cheer: ‘Les Français parlent aux Français’ (Eck, 1984, p. 62; Crémieux-Brilhac, 1989, pp. 10–16). In addition, radio was used by war leaders to communicate directly with the masses. The leaders of the Vichy government, Philippe Pétain and Pierre Laval, spoke regularly on radio. During spring 1944, Philippe Henriot, Secretary of State for Information and Propaganda, made two radio addresses per day (Eck, 1984, p. 120). In London, the leader of the Free French Forces depended on the airwaves more than any other propagandist. In exile and virtually unknown in France, access to the BBC allowed de Gaulle to maintain direct contact with France. The 18 June 1940 appeal was followed by 28 addresses on the BBC in 1940 alone (de Gaulle, 1970b, pp. 3–53). In total, the French leader spoke 67 times on the BBC during the war (Crémieux-Brilhac, 1989, p. 11). Albeit heard by very few in France at first, the BBC broadcasts of the French National Committee for Liberation rapidly grew in audience. These broadcasts were crucial in building de Gaulle’s popularity in France. By 1944, those who hailed de Gaulle as a saviour at his return to the French soil and wept at the sight of him had never heard him except on the BBC. Radio was also used to enjoin populations to action. The French National Committee of Liberation conducted several campaigns with considerable success from its headquarters in London. They first asked the French population to desert the streets between 3 and 4 pm on 1 January 1941. They ordered demonstrations on 11 May and 14 July 1941, 1 May and 14 July 1942. The ‘V’ campaign, originally proposed on a BBC programme for Belgium in 1941, became so successful in France that Goebbels finally adopted it and adorned the Eiffel Tower with a huge ‘V’ sign (Eck, 1984, pp. 74–5). From the Aldwych in London, the Gaullists employed their airtime to counteract the propaganda and the orders given by Vichy. In 1942, they waged a broadcasting campaign against the sending of voluntary French workers to German factories. When the


scheme became mandatory in February 1943, they intensified the campaign and continued it for ten months. The same year, those who could were encouraged to join the Maquis. Finally, radio was used to communicate directly with the Resistance. Coded messages guided the Resistance networks and coordinated their actions. On 5 June 1944, 16 minutes of coded messages for D-Day preceded the BBC French programme (ibid., p. 126). As Jean-Louis Crémieux-Brilhac (the Committee’s head of propaganda operations in London during the war) writes, ‘the BBC became a weapon, and one can really talk about a broadcasting strategy and broadcasting battles’ (Crémieux-Brilhac, 1989, p. 15). The full integration of radio to war operations and the crucial role it played for the Gaullists in particular meant that de Gaulle, by the end of the conflict, could not but be convinced of the importance of the broadcasting medium in leadership. Once television emerged in the political arena in the late 1950s, his wartime experience with radio had favourably predisposed him to embrace it as the medium of the presidency. 7.4.2

De Gaulle’s action of presence

De Gaulle came to politics in extraordinary circumstances and after a career in the army that spanned decades. At the age of 49, he was made brigadier general in May 1940, and a couple of weeks later, just as the French government was succumbing to the Germans, he was appointed Secretary of War. During this time, he wrote extensively on military strategy and many a theme developed in these writings prefigures his style of leadership once at the helm of the country. Most telling in terms of de Gaulle’s close relationship with television is the analysis of the impact of the mechanization of warfare on the military command. Before the emergence of firearms, de Gaulle argues, the physical ardour of combatants was primordial and leaders needed to maintain their stamina through the battle. As the fighting occurred at close distance, battlefields were not too spread out, and officers could ‘command without intermediaries and influence by their presence the conduct of combatants’ (de Gaulle, 1971c, p. 219). The emergence of firearms modified this direct relationship between the leadership and rank and file. As the technical aspect of warfare increased in importance, the human factor – the


courage and physical ability of combatants – decreased in significance. In addition, battlefields expanded and it became impractical for leaders to remain in close touch with their soldiers. Nonetheless, the best leaders, such as Condé or Napoléon, were those who ‘even though they could not be seen by all’, ‘took care to maintain among the rank and file a latent ardour and to appear at the right time and the right place for the decisive shocks’ (de Gaulle, 1971c, pp. 220–1). The First World War brought the technical dimension of warfare further to the fore. The power and quantity of the weaponry modified the role and tasks of leadership. Officers increasingly devoted their energy to conceptual and organizational tasks and spent much of their time collecting intelligence and planning combat. With battlefields expanding even further, ‘everything concurred to give to the command a distant, collective and anonymous character that discarded talent and emotions in the shadows’ (de Gaulle, 1971c, p. 222). Writing in the early 1930s, de Gaulle predicted that the current mechanization of the army would modify the art of warfare and the role of the command beyond recognition. The changes introduced by the process of mechanization, notably the new faster pace imposed on armed conflicts, the increased autonomy of troops and the greater unpredictability of battles, imposed once more on leaders the necessity to take prompt decisions. As the age of the combustion engine imposed a greater strain on troops and demanded a greater moral effort on the part of combatants, officers and soldiers were to fight closer to each other again: [Leaders] striving to make the quick and personal impression necessary to command will make themselves constantly seen by their troops. The action of presence, which the most ardent chiefs could not exert in the darkest conflicts, is restored by the motor on the ground and in the air’. (ibid., p. 228, my emphasis) De Gaulle eagerly anticipates these changes when he enthuses: ‘The effects produced on past combatants by the appearance, under fire, of the sash of Condé, the gilded costume of Murat and the insignia of MacMahon, will probably be repeated by the appearance of the command-car or the command-airplane’ (ibid., p. 229).


De Gaulle applied the theory to political leadership. Being seen and being ‘present’ was one of the major reasons that convinced de Gaulle to multiply provincial trips. He covered the whole of the French territory – 89 departments in all – in 33 four-day trips within the first term of his presidency (Boud’hors, 1974). Above all, de Gaulle envisaged the possibility of achieving with television similar effects to those the military command could accomplish with motorized transport: to be present everywhere. This explains why he embraced television so eagerly right at the beginning of his presidency. As he writes in Memoirs of Hope: The French people must see me and hear me, and I must see and hear them. Television and public journeys gave me the opportunity to do so. […] the combination of the microphone and the screen presented itself to me at the very moment when this innovation was beginning its lightning development. Here, suddenly, was an unprecedented means of being present everywhere. (de Gaulle, 1971b, pp. 288–9, my emphasis) De Gaulle understood why and how he should use the broadcasting media, and television in particular, at a time when it was not obvious to political leaders, because he had already conceptualized this process with the mechanization of warfare. His way of thinking about television is made particularly manifest by his carefully timed broadcast addresses: in a similar way military leaders should use motorized transport to appear to their troops and galvanize them at crucial moments, de Gaulle used television to be seen by the French when he thought it mattered. 7.4.3

Performing charismatic actions

The connection between de Gaulle’s military theories and communications strategy extend further. As an officer, de Gaulle was preoccupied with the problem of effective command in the army. Hence his attempt to answer two interlinked questions: which qualities do leaders need to be obeyed by the rank and file, and where does the source of political authority lie? De Gaulle’s answer to the first question was that military commanders need to combine practical and theoretical knowledge with a skill for warfare and an aptitude for military action. In addition,


officers need to communicate their views and dominate the rank and file. To this end, they need a third attribute: authority (de Gaulle, 1971d, pp. 17–50). Thus, for de Gaulle, the second question became the nature and the source of authority, for which he identified two origins. The first is character, a virtue that leaders are born with and that helps them achieve great designs. Without this ascriptive characteristic, ‘Alexander the Great would not have conquered Asia’, nor would Richelieu have restored royal authority, Napoléon founded the Empire or Bismarck realized German unity (ibid., pp. 67–8). The second source of authority is prestige, a term that de Gaulle used as a synonym for charisma. Like character, some people are born with prestige, this ‘fluid of authority’, which, like love, ‘cannot be explained without the action of an unspeakable charm’ (ibid., p. 89). Unlike character, however, charisma can also be acquired, or at least improved, provided that leaders follow a certain pattern of behaviour. Firstly, charisma requires public restraint on the part of leaders. As charisma involves an element of mystery, leaders must maintain a distance between themselves and their public and must keep up their sleeves some secrets with which to surprise the masses. They should also restrict their public appearances and carefully assess the impact of each of these before committing themselves in public. Leaders who do not respect these rules lose the respect of the public and are subsequently unable to accomplish anything significant. Secondly, to gain charisma, leaders need self-control and inner strength. Finally, charismatic leaders need to undertake actions that bear the mark of grandeur. According to de Gaulle, no collective action is possible if this element is lacking in the leader’s commands and designs (ibid., pp. 99–101). Followers need to feel that their leader transcends their own limits, weaknesses and selfishness. As can be seen from this theory of leadership, de Gaulle clearly grasped the symbolic dimension of power. He understood that domination has little to do with force or constraint but rather with the intellect and emotions. This is corroborated by de Gaulle’s own analysis of a power relation. For such a relation to be efficient, de Gaulle writes, it needs to be grounded on a personal basis. Leaders need to establish a personal relationship between themselves and their followers because the masses do not obey impersonal power.


As a consequence, leaders have to address people’s minds, catch their imaginations, imprint a ‘living mark’ in their psyches, and ‘multiply the effects of discipline by a moral suggestion which reaches them beyond reasoning’ (de Gaulle, 1971d, pp. 44–5). ‘One does not move crowds’, de Gaulle adds, ‘without elementary feelings, violent images and brutal invocations’ (ibid., p. 13). This brings us to the second element of a power relation: according to de Gaulle, this is mystique. Leaders must envelop themselves in the kind of atmosphere and aura that creates the right emotional environment for their leadership. Rulers need an ideology to sustain their power (ibid., pp. 55–60). Two elements of de Gaulle’s theory of authority are particularly enlightening as regards his later use of the broadcasting media. The first is de Gaulle’s understanding of the sheer necessity of symbolic violence in the exercise of power. De Gaulle’s pre-war thoughts show that he had grasped that power, to be sustainable, must rest on firm symbolic and ideological grounds. This partly explains why de Gaulle categorically refused to relinquish control over television. He saw it as an integral part of his leadership and an essential tool in developing the mystique that he felt should support his regime. The second is de Gaulle’s awareness of the necessity of charisma in the exercise of power. This aspect of the French leader’s inter-war military doctrine can be related to his use of the broadcasting media with the concept of charismatic action. This notion refers to the public and broadcast acts that de Gaulle performed either to reinforce his charisma or to make demands on people by relying on his charisma. Thus there are, I would suggest, two main types of charismatic actions. The first are charisma-reinforcing actions, as when de Gaulle publicly intervened to strengthen his charisma. On the other hand, de Gaulle was obliged on certain occasions to rely on his charisma – for example, to make demands on the electorate before referenda and elections. The public acts de Gaulle performed when he had to spend a certain amount of charismatic capital can be called charisma-spending actions. Provincial trips, and especially press conferences, epitomize the first type of charismatic action. The pomp and the solemnity of these conferences were designed to enhance de Gaulle’s prestige and grandeur – and hence his charisma. Speaking ex cathedra rather than


conversing with journalists, de Gaulle followed his own recommendation pertaining to the acquisition of charisma, which requires that rulers maintain a distance between themselves and the people. Reciting a learnt text, of which each word had been pondered, he was in control of his performance and was certain not to lose the respect of the public, as he feared he would do by taking part in live ‘chat’ on national television. Taking care to limit the frequency of these conferences to a maximum of two per year, he applied his own rule to limit his public appearances only to those that were strictly necessary. Conversely, broadcast addresses were in most cases charismaspending actions. In many of these broadcast appearances, de Gaulle used his aura and prestige to exhort the French people to cast the right vote in the ballot box. He made particularly blatant use of his charismatic capital on three occasions. There were two addresses when he appeared on television donned in his military uniform. The first was on 29 January 1960, when the French government faced a crisis in Algiers. The second was on 23 April 1961, when de Gaulle was forced to respond to the attempted coup in Algiers by the generals Challe, Salan, Zeller and Jouhaud. On the first occasion, de Gaulle himself justified the military outfit: ‘If I am wearing the uniform today to speak on television, this is to mark that I do it as General de Gaulle as well as Head of State’ (de Gaulle, 1970d, p. 162). He specified his thought towards the end of the address, asking for the support of the public ‘in virtue of the mandate the people have given me and the national legitimacy that I have embodied for the last 20 years’ (ibid., p. 166). Both the uniform and the mention of those twenty years (bringing viewers back to his BBC appeal on 18 June 1940) were references to his role during the Second World War, de Gaulle’s main source of charisma. The third occasion was on 30 May 1968, when the national crisis prompted the French president to give an exclusive radio address. It was at first believed that de Gaulle did not address the country on television because of difficulties linked to the circumstances (Astoux, 1978, p. 186). However, it was later revealed that de Gaulle’s access to television was guaranteed and that it was his deliberate choice not to speak on television (Foccart, 1998, pp. 150–1; Peyrefitte, 2000, pp. 566, 576). The French leader believed that, in these circumstances, radio was


better than television to add drama to his appeal. A television appearance in uniform would have been of little use in taking rebellious students and workers off the streets. A radio broadcast offered de Gaulle the opportunity to re-enact his 18 June appeal and bank on the charisma he had accumulated during wartime. Thus de Gaulle skilfully balanced gains and losses of charismatic capital, sometimes spending, sometimes recouping this capital, using television and radio as circumstances dictated. 7.4.4 The impact of the presidency on the public communications system When de Gaulle came to power, his most consequential move was to create a new political institution that deeply modified the structure of the French political field: the presidency. This institution was set up deliberately and explicitly as an alternative to the parliamentary regime de Gaulle had so much criticized before taking office. To strengthen the position of this new institution in the political field, de Gaulle proposed – and the country approved – the election of the president by universal suffrage in October 1962. Many among the political class felt threatened by this move and were bitterly opposed to this constitutional change. The popular election of the president considerably reinforced the legitimacy of the presidency, which was henceforth distinct from that of the National Assembly. As Karl Marx explained about Napoléon III (France’s first leader to be elected by universal suffrage): While the votes of France are split up among the 750 members of the National Assembly, they are here, on the contrary, concentrated on a single individual. While each separate representative of the people represents only this or that party, this or that town, this or that bridgehead, or even only the mere necessity of electing some one of the 750, where neither the cause nor the man is closely examined, he is the elect of the nation and the act of his election is the trump that the sovereign people plays every four years. The elected National Assembly stands in a metaphysical relation, but the elected President in a personal relation, to the nation. The National Assembly, indeed, exhibits in its individual representatives the manifold aspects of the national spirit, but in the President this national spirit finds its incarnation. As against


the Assembly, he possesses a sort of divine right; he is President by the grace of the people. (Marx, 1954, p. 26) Much of the communications needs of de Gaulle stem from two of the characteristics of the popularly elected leader referred to by Karl Marx. The first is the direct relationship that exists between the president and the nation and the second the competing legitimacies between the presidency and the National Assembly. Indeed, de Gaulle took advantage of television to establish what he called a ‘living bond’ between himself and the French people. He explained himself: Above all, it is with the people themselves that their representative and leader has to be in touch. In this way, the nation can know personally the man who is at its helm, discern the bonds that unite them to their leader, learn of his ideas, acts, projects, worries and hopes. (de Gaulle, 9 September 1965, in de Gaulle 1970e, p. 391) The necessity of securing a direct channel of communication with the nation was one of the reasons de Gaulle evoked to justify his refusal to relax the government’s tight control over the national broadcaster in 1962: What is even more important in the Fifth Republic, is the direct agreement between the President of the Republic and the people. I need to be able to address the French as many times as it is necessary, without being dependent upon any entrenched interest, without having to negotiate with anyone. (in Peyrefitte, 1994b, p. 497) De Gaulle assumed that the national broadcaster was his own property. He warded off criticisms of governmental control over the national radio and television, arguing that since the press sided with the opposition, he was within his right to keep television, ‘which is mine’, as he said once to Peyrefitte (in Peyrefitte, 1994b, p. 495). With control over television, he could communicate on his own terms, ensure the visibility of the presidency, keep his opponents at bay, control the symbolic representations of his institution and


establish a personal relationship with the nation above and beyond political parties. 7.4.5

Influences from the social sciences

Many authors made a lasting impact on de Gaulle, most notably Maurice Barrès, Henri Bergson and Charles Péguy (Larcan, 1986). Concerning de Gaulle’s communications strategy and his handling of public opinion, one author seems to have been more influential than any other: the social scientist Gustave Le Bon. Le Bon was an influential figure in conservative circles both in France and abroad in the early decades of the twentieth century. Theodore Roosevelt was impressed enough to wish to meet the author, Mussolini corresponded with him and Hitler and Lenin read several of his books. The author was recommended reading at the War School, where de Gaulle taught in the 1920s, and his reading of Le Bon is confirmed in at least one note (de Gaulle, 1980, p. 337; see also Larcan, 1986, pp. 316–17). According to one expert on Le Bon’s theories, de Gaulle would be the leader who stands closest to Le Bon’s tenets (Rouvier, 1986, p. 18). Alain Larcan concurs that he is ‘impregnated with Le Bon’s ideas on some fundamental issues’ (Larcan, 1986, p. 317). Undeniably, there is a strong convergence between Le Bon’s theories and some of the French leader’s ideas. Several elements of de Gaulle’s military doctrine had already been suggested by Le Bon: the preference for a professional army, the importance of good leadership and discipline among the rank and file, and the significance of psychological and moral factors in military success. Both men cautioned the French military hierarchy against their ready-made doctrines and underlined the contingent character of military action (Larcan, 1986, p. 319). Le Bon’s influence on de Gaulle extends further, notably in politics. In his most prominent book, The Crowd: a Study of the Popular Mind (first published in the 1890s), Le Bon argues that crowds have never played such an important role than in the contemporary life of the nation. In the eighteenth century, the opinion of the masses barely mattered, but since the popular classes have entered political life, they govern nations: ‘The divine right of the masses is about to replace the divine right of kings’ (Le Bon, 1982, pp. XV–XVI).


This emerging power represents a threat, notably to political elites, because of the ‘extreme mental inferiority’ of the masses (ibid., p. VI). Crowds are governed by the subconscious and utterly unadapted to reasoning. Their power is essentially destructive and, when they rule, such as during the French Revolution, ‘it is always tantamount to a barbarian phase’ (ibid., p. XVIII). Crowds have their own persona, in which individuals’ lowest instincts predominate. Similar to ‘inferior forms of evolution’, such as ‘women, savages and children’, crowds are ‘impulsive, irascible, unstable, prone to extreme emotions and irrational behaviour, devoid of reason, judgement and critical spirit’ (ibid., p. 16). Masses cannot – and do not want to – govern themselves. Except for these transitory revolutionary outbursts, they ‘instinctively turn to servitude’. Masses only worship strong leaders, even ‘tyrants’, to whom ‘they always erect the loftiest statues’ (ibid., pp. 38–9). How then does one lead masses? Civilizations, Le Bon claims, are built on the marvellous, the legendary. He who can catch the imagination of the masses can lead them. ‘To know the art of impressing the imagination of crowds is to know the art of governing them’ (ibid., p. 58). ‘The power of conquerors’, Le Bon writes, is based on this art, and he cites Alexander the Great, Caesar and Napoléon as leaders who best knew how to impress the imagination of the crowds (ibid., pp. 55–6). Leaders have two main rhetorical means to imprint ideas in the collective mind: simple and concise affirmations, and the repetition of these affirmations. They also need prestige if they want their ideas to be influential. Le Bon distinguishes between acquired and personal prestige. Acquired prestige is that of the function. Soldiers, for example, can enhance the prestige linked to the military by wearing the uniform. Personal prestige is less frequent but more powerful. The leaders gifted with this faculty, such as Napoléon, are natural-born and ‘exercise a veritably magnetic fascination on those around them’ (ibid., p. 130). According to Le Bon, the ascendancy of leaders over crowds has become more difficult to maintain in modern times. Old beliefs and certainties fade away and because of the increasingly rapid flow of information, crowds can catch new ideas more easily than ever. Public opinion’s volatility is further stimulated by the popular press that incessantly brings to the attention of readers new and conflicting


opinions (ibid., p. 151). As no opinion holds ground for very long, public opinion has become too volatile for governments to control it. Le Bon is adamant that the popular press (emerging in France in the late nineteenth century) instigated this evolution. The old papers advocating political creeds have disappeared, replaced by newspapers that espouse public opinion and its changing moods for fear of losing readers. Opinion holds less importance and the ‘age of indifference’ has made it more difficult for political leaders to impose their own views (ibid., pp. 152–6). Le Bon concludes with remarks on parliamentary assemblies, which he does not hold in great esteem either. They are afflicted by defects similar to those of any crowd: ‘dullness, irritability, suggestibility, excessive feelings and ascendancy from a few leaders’ (ibid., p. 194). The similarities between Le Bon’s theories and those of de Gaulle are striking. Both have a highly hierarchical vision of society with a clear-cut distinction between the masses and leadership. Both detect in the masses an ‘instinctive’ urge for obedience and submission. Echoing Le Bon, de Gaulle writes: ‘men cannot do without being ruled, no more than they can do without eating, drinking or sleeping. These political animals need organization, that is, order and commanders’ (de Gaulle, 1971d, p. 86). De Gaulle followed Le Bon’s advice on leadership. Le Bon’s notion of prestige figures prominently in de Gaulle’s analysis of military leadership (Section 7.4.3). The French leader shared Le Bon’s unbounded admiration for war leaders, Napoléon in particular. He also remembered the need for mass psychology. Just as Le Bon writes that ‘[t]o know the art of impressing the imagination of crowds is to know the art of governing them’, de Gaulle states that ‘[o]ne does not move crowds without elementary feelings, violent images and brutal invocations’ (Le Bon, 1982, p. 58; de Gaulle, 1971d, p. 13). De Gaulle’s communications strategy bears the marks of Le Bon’s ideas. Presidential public addresses were laden with penetrative symbols and images, as Le Bon suggested leaders should ensure (Le Bon, 1982, pp. 52–3, 58, 200). Two of de Gaulle’s most frequent rhetorical figures were the affirmation and the repetition, as advised by the French social thinker (ibid., p. 130). As witnessed by the style and relatively low frequency of his broadcast appearances, de Gaulle also remembered Le Bon’s recommendation to


keep the crowds at a distance to preserve the prestige of leadership (ibid., p. 140). De Gaulle shared Le Bon’s distaste for the press and for parliamentary assemblies. Criticisms of parliamentary regimes and assemblies are recurrent in de Gaulle’s work and influenced his decisions when drafting the constitution of the Fifth Republic (see, for example, de Gaulle, 1954, p. 35; 1959, pp. 53, 287). Both authors criticized the indecisiveness and demagogy of assemblies. As for the press, both of them see in the print medium one of the scourges of the twentieth century. Time and again, de Gaulle expressed his agreement with Le Bon’s opinion that the press constitutes a serious hindrance to leadership (see Chapter 3). Le Bon’s influence on the French leader cannot be singled out. De Gaulle was widely read and was exposed to other thinkers of the same vein (Larcan, 1986). Ideas similar to those of Le Bon were widespread in the French army and the conservative circles of the inter-war period. However, the parallels remain numerous between the social scientist and de Gaulle, and it is undoubtedly within this mind-set that he set up his communications strategy.

7.5

Conclusion

The principles of de Gaulle’s communications strategy were determined well before he reached the presidency. Convictions that were formed and experiences that occurred by the end of the Second World War were far more influential than advisers and circumstances that were contemporary to the presidency. This early formation gave the French leader’s communication style a distinctive flavour. However, it may also be the reason why it did not evolve during the presidency. It was too rigid and, by de Gaulle’s second term, the format had become too predictable. Although the style helped de Gaulle underline his politics of grandeur, it had become ill-adapted to the exigencies of modern politics, as it transpired during the presidential campaign. It put too much distance between himself and the nation, and courting electors necessitates at times a more versatile and intimate mode of communication.

8 One State, One Nation, One Television: Making Sense of de Gaulle’s Broadcasting Policy

This chapter focuses on the broadcasting policy implemented during the de Gaulle presidency. It can be deconstructed as four elements. The first is institutional and refers to the statist nature of this policy. The second is political, the regime using the national broadcaster as an instrument of government. The third element is socioideological, as many Gaullists thought that television could be used to reinforce social cohesion and national identity. The fourth is national, as the policy entrusted the state broadcaster with an official character and a mission of representation abroad.

8.1

Television and the process of state-building

The statist nature of the Gaullist broadcasting policy stems from two of its key features: the safeguarding of the state monopoly and the concomitant opposition to open access to commercial interests in the sector. Although the state monopoly pre-existed the de Gaulle regime, its legislative record shows that it was strongly committed to it (see Chapter 5). This commitment is further illustrated by the disposition of the government towards peripheral radio stations. Since no commercial radio was allowed in France, a handful of stations, among them Radio-Luxembourg, Radio Monte-Carlo and Europe 1, breached the monopoly by broadcasting from the outskirts of French territory. In order to exercise control over these stations, the French government bought into their controlling companies. In November 1959, it acquired nearly half the controlling interests of Europe 1 through a 177


state holding called the SOFIRAD (Société financière de radiodiffusion). It also possessed minority stakes in Radio-Luxembourg and more than 80 per cent of the shares of Radio Monte-Carlo (Dolbois, 1994, pp. 202–11; Brochand, 1994, pp. 274–336). When conflicts of interest arose between the French government and these stations, it did not hesitate to deal heavy-handedly with two of the tiny states hosting these radios, Luxembourg and Monaco. It repeatedly bullied Radio-Luxembourg over political reporting and appointments, interrupting the broadcast on one occasion (some cables crossed French territory), and once threatened the Principality of Monaco, cutting electricity supplies over a wrangle about the controlling shares of Radio Monte-Carlo (Brochand, 1994, pp. 288–9, 329–30). The issue of peripheral radio stations was raised at Cabinet level in March 1965. De Gaulle complained to the prime minister that these stations were in a ‘clear breach of the monopoly purposefully instated by the legislation in France’, and demanded that the breach end as soon as possible (18 March 1965, in de Gaulle, 1987, p. 140). There are several reasons that explain the commitment of the Gaullist government to the state monopoly. Firstly, it stems from the overall statist nature of de Gaulle’s political doctrine.1 Time and again, de Gaulle insisted that only a powerful and centralized state can help the regime govern for the general interest and face down sectarian political parties, trade unions and lobby groups (see, for example, de Gaulle, 1954, pp. 31–6, 86–7; 1959, pp. 14–15, 41, 53, 285–290). During his first spell in power, between 1944 and 1946, the French leader (in agreement with the rest of the political class), nationalized energy production (coal, oil, gas and electricity), the banking system, the means of transportation and the main industrial conglomerates (Bernard, 1995, pp. 56–8). He created an array of powerful institutions, governmental agencies and regulatory bodies to give the state the means to play a central role in the social, economic and cultural life of the nation. Among these creations figure the Ecole nationale d’administration (ENA), founded in 1945 to homogenize the recruitment and formation of the French political elite, and the Compagnies Républicaines de Sécurité (CRS), the antiriot police forces (Teyssier, 1995, pp. 31–7; see also de Gaulle, 1959, p. 330; 1970d, pp. 145–7).2 When de Gaulle came back to power in

One State, One Nation, One Television 179

May 1958, he governed France with a similar political mind-set and created yet another institution that made the French state more powerful and centralized than ever: the presidency. In this context, to keep broadcasting under state control was a matter of balance between the private and public sector. When the state is already entrusted with energy production, banking, transport and the manufacture of a variety of products ranging from cars to airplanes, it is logical to entrust to it the charge of broadcasting. Gaullism gave the state enough power, attributions and responsibilities for the broadcasting media to remain a state institution; and the state apparatus was vast enough to incorporate a broadcasting organization. French television was a cog in a vast and ubiquitous state apparatus that dominated the life of the nation and that of all its citizens. De Gaulle’s statist doctrine encompassed a belief in dirigisme, which specifically dictates that the economy should remain under political control. It was not merely a case of keeping broadcasting in the hands of the state, but also of protecting it from the private sector and market forces. De Gaulle was adamant: ‘The market is not above the nation and the State. It is the nation and the State that must dominate the market’ (in Peyrefitte, 1994b, p. 524, my emphasis). With such a concept of the relationship between the state and the market, commercial broadcasting could not prosper in France. Entrepreneurs and commercial ventures were perceived as intrinsically alien to the national interest. This left the state with the sole legitimacy to oversee broadcasting. Furthermore, it was not merely a question of what the state could do for television, but what television could do for the state. In his resolve to restore state authority, de Gaulle was determined that the state should keep its communication capabilities to the full. He once said: ‘This establishment [the RTF], should be the voice of the state in France’ (in Peyrefitte, 1994b, p. 98). He detailed his thought to his Minister of Information in 1962: Do you think [de Gaulle to Peyrefitte] that the Third Republic would have taken root if it was not forceful, if it did not take hold of primary education, secondary schools, academia, history textbooks and most newspapers? It imposed a fait accompli to a ruling class who was massively hostile to her: ‘La Gueuse’! The monarchists, then the majority, were divided – as the right-wing always is


– between three pretenders to the throne: the Orleanist, the Legitimist and the Bonapartist. Thus Thiers concluded: ‘It is the Republic that is the less divisive’. For decades, they bombarded [people with] this theorem and imprinted it in their minds. The Left, the Freemasons, the unions and the Black Hussards [primary school teachers], obstinately inculcated the idea that there was no other possible regime, that it was a lack of civisme to imagine another one, that any adversary to the regime was not a good French citizen. Even so, they needed the Great War to provoke, facing the enemy, a union of the souls to make the Republic accepted by almost everybody! Forty-five years after its proclamation! There is only three-and-a-half years that we have established the new regime. It will need much more time to become irreversible! […] It is not the moment to do a statute for the RTF! By law, you have authority on the institution, its managers, technicians and journalists! Keep this authority! The future of the regime depends for a great part on the way this authority will be exerted. One never knows what will happen! The time to decolonize, as you say, has not come yet! (in Peyrefitte, 1994b, pp. 497–8) According to de Gaulle, the Fifth Republic would crumble without the capacity to sustain the ideology needed to gain the adhesion of the French people. Thus, for the president, the national broadcaster was a state institution in the full meaning of term. Broadcasting policy for de Gaulle was not merely about television, it was about the contribution television could make to the restoration of the state as a central and dominant institution in modern France. From a Weberian perspective, de Gaulle was adding a dimension to the definition of the state as exclusive holder of force (Weber, 1978, p. 56). With the state monopoly on broadcasting, the Gaullist state not only claimed monopoly on the use of physical force (the police and the army), but also sought to monopolize the use of symbolic violence.

8.2

Television as an instrument of government

The second dimension of the Gaullist broadcasting policy is political. As well as advocating a strong state, the French president


wanted a strong government. A case in point was the electoral mode, tailored by de Gaulle to suit his political objectives (de Gaulle, 1970a, p. 38). To guarantee the formation of a majority at the Assembly, a majority system was preferred to proportional representation. A second round between the two remaining candidates was also introduced in the electoral procedure in order to harm the prospects of left-wing radicals and others who were communists. It favoured the election of local notables, who often ran under Gaullist colours.3 The government’s broadcasting policy was drafted with similar intentions. The Gaullists did not think of the national broadcaster as a public institution, but as a government agency designed to help the regime govern. In the early stages of the de Gaulle presidency, the Minister of the Interior, Roger Frey, admitted that thanks to television the state ‘possesses’ a channel of communication and that ‘it would be absurd for the State to surrender this means to all those who, in the press and elsewhere, attempt to vilify or destroy its action’ (in Brochand, 1994, p. 95). In January 1962, an RTF director expressed the same proprietorial attitude with the national broadcaster when television journalists complained that he had censored declarations from opposition parties on the Algerian conflict. He replied that it was his role to control the contents of the news bulletins and that he would never allow the RTF – an institution servicing the nation – to relay the ‘propaganda’ of organizations (the leftist parties) that ‘had excluded themselves from the nation’ (in Le Monde, 23 January 1962). Alain Peyrefitte had a similar concept of the national broadcaster in mind when he argued in Parliament that since the press sided with the opposition in certain regions, the government was entitled to keep television (see Section 6.3). De Gaulle shared this philosophy, which he expressed through a metaphor: When entrepreneurs bid to construct a building, it is the successful company that has the right to be on the building site and those who have lost have nothing to do with it. One would not admit of their incessantly visiting the site and criticizing the way their colleagues work. (Peyrefitte, interview, 4 May 1999) Once the government had been elected, de Gaulle contended, the opposition was not welcome to interfere, through the media or otherwise.


These views explain why access to the national broadcaster remained restricted for the opposition and the government never relinquished its control over its own airtime (Section 6.3). It was not an objective of the broadcasting policy to turn French television into a public corporation held accountable for the fairness, balance and representativeness of its programming. Television was not meant to become an arena in which the government would hold a dialogue with the public, the opposition and civil society leaders, but an organization supportive of government leadership.

8.3 8.3.1

Social cohesion and national identity Television and national identity

During his presidency, de Gaulle’s most often-voiced concern was related to France’s unity and social cohesion. He remained deeply impressed by the divisions that arose between social classes in the late 1930s. He recalled the ‘large factions of the Right’ leaning towards Hitler and Mussolini and vividly remembered hearing the commander-in-chief of the French Army hope that the Germans would help him maintain order (de Gaulle, 1954, pp. 37, 59, 70, 79). Once at the helm of the country, he had a genuine desire to quell these divisions and make France a united nation again. A way to promote social cohesion was to bring people together around the idea of the nation, and thus de Gaulle was restless in his effort to foster a French national identity. He promoted the use of national symbols and emblems and multiplied historical and national references in his public addresses. He engaged the French people with their own history and their own nation. In his opinion, television had a role to play in this effort: You know [de Gaulle said to the Minister of Information in December 1963], television can be an awful or a wonderful thing. Ben Gourion told me that, first, he was opposed to the arrival of television in Israel. He felt that television could distract his compatriots from the construction of their State. While they had to transform the desert into an oasis, enlist in kibbutz and in the army, television could induce them to amusement, idleness and laziness. Then, he let himself be convinced that television could be useful in giving a common language and a common culture to


Jews coming from everywhere. As long as he held television in his grip, it played this role. But television increasingly slipped from the hands of the State and it started to digress, talk rubbish and criticize for the sake of doing so. (in Peyrefitte, 1997, p. 178) This excerpt best epitomizes de Gaulle’s philosophy on television. These convictions nurtured his determination to keep control over it, influenced his concept of good television programming and his views on news in particular. This philosophy transpires from the memo below, dated 18 February 1963, in which de Gaulle disparages the broadcast news: The news attaches importance to: • the picturesque (the anecdotal is preferred to the exposition of reality); • the pessimistic (catastrophes, massacres, crimes, are preferred to what goes well); • individualism (the isolated case, in particular if it is malicious or offensive, is preferred to the general interest or the attitude of the majority); • the opposition (everything that is against the established order and the action of French public services, inside or outside the country, is preferred to that which is sanctioned, official and national). (de Gaulle, 1986, p. 318) De Gaulle shows here his refusal to accept the inner logic of news and journalism. While conflicts, disasters, and generally unforeseen and exceptional events are always newsworthy, de Gaulle expects broadcast journalists to focus on the normal and the traditional and to show the positive in the life of the nation. The president applied the same rules to fictional material and historical documentaries. He disliked dramas and history programmes that presented France from an unorthodox point of view. During a strike of ORTF producers in February 1965, de Gaulle instructed the Minister of Information to take advantage of this industrial action ‘to get rid of this mafia at last’ (Peyrefitte, 1997, p. 180): We should not let ourselves be impressed by their alleged talent! In reality, these people are decadent. They always present the catastrophic, pathetic and deplorable side of things. It is a tendency


that has always characterized decadent people! One has to prevent them from indulgently showing the pathological rather than the healthy, the sluggish rather than the striving, failures rather than successes, the shames of history rather than its glories! Your men only have interest for the ugly and the shocking. (in Peyrefitte, 1997, p. 180) De Gaulle used to say that ‘there is only one history of France and only one people of France’ (Peyrefitte, interview, 4 May 1999), and demanded that television programmes convey a similar vision of the nation. He was incensed when programme makers approached their subjects from an anecdotal or sensationalist angle. For instance, he reproached Stellio Lorenzi with presenting Louis XIV as if the only interesting fact about the French monarch was that he changed mistress about every evening, ‘without taking into account the grandeur he gave to France, nor the influence and prestige of the nation in Europe and the world during his reign’ (ibid.). De Gaulle and his followers4 strove for a national television, capable of strengthening national identity and reinforcing the emotional and ideological foundations of the nation. 8.3.2

One people – one audience

The need for social cohesion had a second impact on the Gaullist broadcasting policy. Television had to find a language and a purpose common to all in the nation. It had to communicate with everyone at the same time, the masses and the elite. The whole nation formed one indivisible audience: one state, one television, one public. Thus television executives attempted to avoid an excessive polarization of programmes between dumb entertainment on the one hand and esoteric cultural broadcasts on the other. This required that large and disparate audiences be educated and entertained with good quality programming. It certainly excluded the selling of programmes to the millions by pandering to their lowest instincts. It is a policy that predated the change of government in May 1958 and was first implemented by Jean d’Arcy, Director of Programmes from 1952 to 1959 (Sicard, 1999, p. 65). Albert Ollivier, the first Gaullist Director of Television (1959–1964), persevered in this direction. He promoted a popular and entertaining television


with decent and good quality programmes for all. He was also a strong advocate of creative television and aimed at presenting varied topics to the viewing public (Worms, 1963; Bourdon, 1990, pp. 123–9; Brochand, 1994, p. 399; Sicard, 1999, pp. 65–9). The policy continued to be applied when the second channel opened in 1964. Its director, Jacques Thibau, maintained that there is ‘only one television public’ and rejected the logic of two televisions: a ‘simple television’ for ‘simple people’ and a ‘subtle one’ for ‘subtle people’ (Thibau, 1970, pp. 50, 201). He fought against the polarization between ‘insignificant’ programmes for the masses and ‘esotericism’ for the elite, and feared that cultural programmes would cease to entertain and that entertaining programmes would give up any ambition of educating the public (ibid., pp. 54–5). He rejected the rule of complementarity between the two channels that would have confined the second channel to high-brow cultural programmes (ibid., pp. 50–3). This concept of television was not exclusive to the Gaullists and was relatively widespread until the late 1960s. It was a period when most television controllers held the ideal that the medium could bring people together, and that the same programmes could entertain the most educated and enlighten the popular classes. Television producers of different political obediences agreed with the principle. Stellio Lorenzi reproved ‘those who would like to give the name of culture to a small number of esoteric activities reserved to the happy few’ (Lorenzi, 1968, p. 16). Claude Santelli, of a communist persuasion like Lorenzi, thought that high-brow cultural programmes were absurd and that broadcasters should appeal to as many as possible among the viewing public (Santelli, 1968, p. 25). There were two problems associated with the policy. There was a risk of interpreting it in a way that would impose on the popular classes the tastes of the elite. For instance, Robert Bordaz, RTF Director General from February 1962 to July 1964, thought that popular television should promote the literary avant-garde to the masses (Worms, 1962, p. 2). In addition, the policy was based on an unsustainable notion of ‘an audience’. The disparity of cultural tastes among social classes was too important for such a homogenizing approach to broadcasting to be successful (Bourdieu, 1979). These may be the reasons why the policy was unevenly applied to programming, and with unequal success. It also prevented French


television from responding to the demand for escapism from large sections of the viewing public. Viewers’ letters published by Télé 7 Jours regularly echoed viewers’ frustration at the lack of entertainment.5 The policy was altogether given up after May 1968, when the emphasis was placed on entertainment and escapist material.

8.4

Television as the ‘voice of France’

The French state broadcaster was a national institution. The programmes of the state-run television were conferred with an ‘official character’. This implied that the broadcasts of the national television ‘committed’ the government. It explains why the Ministry of Foreign Affairs attempted to censure programmes on several occasions by fear that they could damage France’s international relations (see Section 6.1.3) The national broadcaster had also conferred upon it the role of representing the nation and its people at home and abroad. This aspect of the Gaullist broadcasting policy came to be known at the ORTF as the ‘voice of France’ during the Pompidou presidency. The catchphrase came to stand for the Gaullist broadcasting policy as a whole, but originally it only referred to the official character of the national broadcaster. De Gaulle first spoke of the national broadcaster as the ‘voice of France’, notably, to his Minister of Information in 1962: ‘This establishment [the RTF] should be the voice of the state in France and the voice of France in the world’ (in Peyrefitte, 1994b, p. 98). The president spelled out his thought in a speech delivered at the inauguration ceremony of the new broadcasting house in December 1963, reminding his audience of the responsibilities of the RTF: The French national radio and television, because it is made out of our minds, speaks our language, is made out of our technology, evokes people and things from our land, assumes a unique role of representation. The idea that we and others have of France today depends, to a great degree – in terms of what we see, hear and comprehend – upon what is given out from this building, and which reaches the countless multitude instantly. In this world, which initiates so much communication among citizens and among countries, France must appear as it is, that is, with its pains and problems, but living plainly her century, in full


progress, and benevolent towards all the people of the earth. (de Gaulle, 1970e, p. 151) The statement above captures the essence of the doctrine of the ‘voice of France’, which confers both an official character and a mission of representation upon the national broadcaster. The idiom was coined by de Gaulle, but it only reached the public domain following a press conference by President Pompidou on 2 July 1970: To be journalist at the ORTF, it is not the same as being journalist elsewhere. The ORTF, whether it is accepted or not, is the voice of France; it is considered as such in foreign countries, and it is considered as such by the public. Therefore, those who speak on television or on France-Inter [the state radio], speak a little bit in the name of France. I expect a certain decency from them. Those who have followed me since I came into government recall that I have gathered journalists and ORTF representatives and told them exactly the same thing as early as 1962. I am not asking you to praise the government. I am not asking you to give airtime to ministers all the time. I perfectly know that nothing is more boring for viewers. I am asking you to remember that when you speak, you do not only speak in your name, but you commit the nation. There is a certain decency – in language and in thought – which is being requested from you. I recognize that it is more difficult than elsewhere. (in L’Année politique, économique, sociale et diplomatique en France 1970, 1971, p. 430) Georges Pompidou made a shorter statement about the ORTF at a press conference two years later on 21 September 1972, repeating in substance the citation above (L’Année politique, économique, sociale et diplomatique en France 1972, 1973, p. 406). The second of these statements provoked a public outcry, but Pompidou was simply reminding journalists of the accountability of the state broadcaster to the nation and its responsibilities as a national institution. He had similar expectations for the national theatre and the national opera.


This completes the list of the four aspects of the Gaullist broadcasting policy. The national broadcaster was a state institution, because it was the recipient of the broadcasting monopoly. It was a political institution, because political control made the national broadcaster function almost like a government agency. It was a socio-ideological institution, because the ORTF was ascribed the duty of strengthening the national identity and preserving social cohesion. Finally, it was a national institution because it was entrusted with an official character and a mission of representation of the state in France and of France in the world.

8.5

The Gaullist broadcasting policy and the opposition

The sole aspect of the Gaullist broadcasting policy contested by the opposition was governmental control over the national broadcaster. Otherwise, there was a consensus among the overwhelming majority of French politicians to maintain the state monopoly.6 One of the few projects for commercial broadcasting in the 1960s, Pro-TV, received insignificant parliamentary support (Brochand, 1994, pp. 129–30). None of the innumerable projects of reform put forward by the opposition parties, trade unions and ORTF journalists challenged the state monopoly (Chapter 5),a monopoly which was only abolished by the Socialist government in 1982 (Kuhn, 1995, pp. 172–4).

9 Reason of State and Public Communications: de Gaulle in Context

This chapter contextualizes de Gaulle’s handling of public communications by comparing it with that of past and contemporary political leaders. Section 9.1 argues that there are similarities in the ways Richelieu, Napoléon and de Gaulle have handled public communications, originating from the continuity of the political project these three leaders have pursued. Section 9.2 compares de Gaulle’s engagement in the process of public communications with that of the four American presidents who were his contemporaries: Eisenhower, Kennedy, Johnson and Nixon. This comparison focuses on two key areas of the French and American presidential communications system: the presidential press conference and the uses of television.

9.1

De Gaulle and his predecessors

This section shows that there are similarities in the style of leadership and handling of public opinion of three French statesmen: Richelieu, Napoléon and de Gaulle. It argues that these parallels echo deeper resemblances in the overall political design pursued by the three leaders. 9.1.1

Richelieu

The most striking similarity between Richelieu and de Gaulle is that both attached a paramount importance to the development of the state. The institutional and administrative reforms prompted by Richelieu greatly reinforced the powers of the nascent state in 189


France. Louis XIII’s First Minister between 1624 and 1642 passed laws and ordinances that expanded the prerogatives of the Crown and curtailed the powers of local assemblies and regional parliaments (Bercé, 1992, pp. 114–19, 153–8). The high nobility was one of the main foci of resistance to Richelieu’s designs and fomented several unsuccessful plots against the minister. He dealt with the conspirators with the utmost severity, ordering their execution in many cases. Louis XIII and his minister ordered the destruction of castles distant from the frontiers and unnecessary to the security of the kingdom. They forbade duels by imposing heavy penalties, such as loss of office, confiscation of property and possibly execution (Knecht, 1991, p. 51). Duels were considered to be a transgression of the king’s authority, as only he could dispose of the lives of his subjects, who were not allowed to take their own lives ‘without some public utility or particular necessity’ (Richelieu, 1947, pp. 225–6). The Assembly of Notables in 1626–27 was another occasion for Richelieu to control the unruly nobility. His comments during the bargaining process with the nobles are telling in terms of his political philosophy: Kings are kings only as long as their authority is recognized and they demonstrate their favour. They are unable to ensure the effects of these unless they are strictly obeyed, since disobedience by one individual is capable of arresting the course of a plan whose effects will benefit the public. Obedience is the true characteristic of the subject. (in Church, 1972, p. 185) Richelieu reserved a similar treatment for the Huguenots. He did not mind their ‘heretic’ beliefs as much as their disobedience to the Crown. Following a decade of spasmodic religious wars during the 1620s, he and the king succeeded in crushing the Protestant rebellion. Protestant towns in the west, south-west and the Midi lost their privileges and political independence. Their fortifications and fortresses were brought down and their military rights cancelled. The religious problem pertained, but Richelieu ‘struck an important blow for the political and economic unity of France’ (Knecht, 1991, p. 80). The parallel with de Gaulle is blatant. The president shared a similar preoccupation with national unity, and, time and again, he

Reason of State and Public Communications

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fulminated against the ‘centrifugal claims’ of vested interests (trade unions, the press, capitalists, etc.), which he used to call – appropriately – ‘les féodalités’ (Section 3.1). He too strengthened the authority of the state, and implemented statist policies that expanded the state apparatus (Section 8.1).1 It is not fortuitous that the parallel between Richelieu and de Gaulle extends to their handling of public opinion and the press. More than any of his contemporaries, Richelieu appreciated the importance of propaganda in the exercise of power. One of his first measures as First Minister was to restrict freedom of expression by tightening up the means of censorship on pamphlets, letters and memoirs. He treated libel offences as crimes of lèse-majesté and imposed heavy penalties on authors of libellous material. Several publicists were imprisoned and two pamphleteers were beheaded during Richelieu’s administration (Knecht, 1991, p. 170). Richelieu instigated an extensive propaganda effort, aware as he was that a government needs to influence public opinion. Richelieu reigned over a team of writers who produced a stream of pamphlets eulogizing the regime and the monarch. The First Minister wrote articles himself, suggested titles and revised his publicists’ copies. An historian writes that ‘[h]e supervised his political writers as he supervised his military and diplomatic underlings’ (Solomon, 1972, p. 111). Richelieu progressively realized that these pamphlets and letters were of a limited effect and grasped the opportunity to strengthen his propaganda machine in the early 1630s, taking advantage of a conflict that arose among the publishers of corantos (weekly newssheets that had just began to be published in Paris). Following other printers, Théophraste Renaudot began publication of La Gazette in May 1631. By the summer, competition had intensified and three printers complained to the public authorities that Renaudot had not registered his news-sheet. The complaint was received and the authorities ordered the seizure of Renaudot’s Gazette. Renaudot turned to his royal protectors, Richelieu and Louis XIII, who took advantage of the litigation by issuing an edict that flew in the face of public law: [Renaudot] alone, exclusive of all others, shall enjoy our privilege and permission to make, print, sell and distribute the aforementioned Gazettes, Relations and Nouvelles of this kingdom as well as


foreign countries: either in his Bureaus or in whatever other places he might wish to choose; with prohibition to all other persons to do so, under whatever penalties pertain. (in Solomon, 1972, p. 114) By granting a monopoly to one sole news purveyor, Richelieu could control the news flow in the capital altogether. La Gazette became the regime’s mouthpiece and a great quantity of news it printed had no other aim but to glorify the administration. It provided the monarchy with more than an opportunity for selfaggrandizement, regularly publishing pieces written by the First Minister, his pamphleteers and Louis XIII himself. La Gazette contained much news about the royal family, running stories about official ceremonies, banquets, court life and leisure activities. The monarch’s entourage was given exceptionally good treatment and Louis XIII was gifted with superhuman qualities. On 29 August 1631, La Gazette claimed that he knew ‘4000 persons from memory’, and, on 16 January 1632, it asserted that he had ‘killed a raccoon with a single blow after an entire company of troops had been unable to do so’. The king’s life was depicted as a ‘catalogue of all the heroic and Christian virtues which his subjects should imitate’ (Solomon, 1972, p. 126). La Gazette conveniently forgot to print the bad news. The fall of the fortress of Corbie to Spanish hands in August 1636 took two months to reach La Gazette, and the king wrote the report himself. By way of contrast, when the French reconquered the place in November of the same year, it took three days for Renaudot to tell the story (ibid., p. 133). Similarly, the failing health of the monarch in 1642 was common knowledge in the kingdom by the time news of it had reached La Gazette. One of Richelieu’s aims in orchestrating the propaganda effort was to build an emotional bond between the king and the French people. As he wrote in his memoirs, there is no effective leadership without people’s support and consent: Past kings have made such a great case of the Heart of their subjects that some of them have estimated that it is better to be king of the French rather than king of France and that, indeed, this nation has been heretofore admired to be so passionate for her


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princes, that some authors praise her for being forever ready to spread her blood and expose her possessions for their service and the glory of the State. (Richelieu, 1947, p. 450) The analogies between the two administrations in their approach to public communications are numerous, notwithstanding dissimilarities due to the different historical contexts (de Gaulle never ordered the beheading of journalists). Both leaders were aware of the necessity of propaganda in the exercise of power and subordinated public communications to the political ideal of strong leadership. Both were appreciative of the need for a binding relationship between leaders and their people. Richelieu’s administration coincided with the birth of a new medium, the press, the same way that de Gaulle’s presidency coincided with the birth of television, and both leaders controlled the nascent medium of their era. The same way that Renaudot’s Gazette was given a monopoly, the ORTF was granted a broadcasting monopoly. The content of La Gazette, as that of the ORTF, was more political than journalistic in scope. Both were filled with protocol news and eulogizing comments for the regime in place. In the same way that it took two months for news from Corbie to reach La Gazette, it took eight days to the state broadcaster to announce the students’ revolt in the streets of the capital in May 1968. 9.1.2

Napoléon

The correspondences between de Gaulle and Napoléon are more tenuous than between de Gaulle and Richelieu. De Gaulle’s judgement on Napoléon’s ‘prodigious career’ was shared between ‘blame and admiration’ (de Gaulle, 1938, p. 154). He deplored Napoléon’s excesses but held in high esteem the emperor’s patriotism and military ambition. He bewailed his failures but admired him for ‘shouting to the French that France exists’ (Larcan, 1986, p. 177). Despite de Gaulle’s ambivalent judgement, there remain analogies between the two leaders. Napoléon, like de Gaulle, came to power after a glorious military career, inherited a deeply divided country, confronted dissenting powers, modernized the administration, expanded the state apparatus, strengthened state authority and provided strong and personalized leadership. De Gaulle had, like his predecessor, asserted a


foreign policy that aimed at strengthening the position of France in Europe, but in a more diplomatic fashion. These resemblances extended to press policy and public opinion leadership. Bonaparte severely restricted the freedom of the press barely two months after his coup d’état. He issued a decree on 27 Nivôse, Year VIII (17 January 1800) reducing the number of Parisian titles from 73 to 13. The proprietors and editors of the remaining papers were summoned to prove their French citizenship, register a residence and pledge allegiance to the constitution. Article 3 of the decree forbade the launch of new titles and Article 5 threatened newspapers with immediate closure if they published derogatory comments about the sovereign, the French army or the Republic’s allies (Welschinger, 1887, p. 81). Within a year of the promulgation of the decree, several newspapers were banned for a single defamatory remark. A provincial newspaper was terminated for mentioning the rise in the price of grain and a Parisian title was ordered to cease publication for poking fun at the Institut de France, which boasted Napoléon among its members (Welschinger, 1887, pp. 82–3; Holtman, 1950, p. 46). Napoléon did not tolerate the slightest scent of criticism from the press. He sent a telling letter to his Minister of Police, Joseph Fouché, in April 1805: Repress newspapers a little bit more and place decent articles in them. Make the editors of Le [Journal des] Débats and of Le Publiciste understand that the time is not far when I will realize that they are useless. I will suppress them all and keep only one paper […]. My intention is that you summon the editors of Les Débats, Le Publiciste and La Gazette de France to let them know that if they continue to alarm opinion and be the mouthpiece of English bulletins, and if they persist in stupidly repeating the bulletins from Frankfurt and Augsbourg without discernment or good judgement, they will not last long. [Let them know] that the time of the Revolution is over and that only one party is remaining in France; that I will never suffer that my newspapers do or say anything against my interests; that they can write some small articles with venom if they wish, but that one morning I will clap their mouth. (in Welschinger, 1887, p. 90)


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Another grandis epistola reached Fouché later in the month, and this time Napoléon threatened to ban all newspapers except those that displayed a ‘male touch and a French heart’ (ibid., p. 91). These letters epitomize his attitude towards the press: disregard for press freedom, appreciation of newspapers in terms of personal interest, and constant accusations of lack of patriotism and connivance with foreign powers. Napoléon also set up an official press, whose most prominent paper was Le Moniteur, a daily newspaper. It published the governmental edicts and acted as the official news provider. The emperor took care of the smallest details, writing and correcting articles himself and specifying their publication dates. The mouthpiece engaged in unsubtle propaganda, praised the regime and glorified its military achievements. Unpleasant news was suppressed, other pieces of information were purely and simply invented to boost domestic morale and mislead foreign enemies (Bellanger et al., 1969, p. 557). The rest of the press was under close control. The general censor was Pierre Desmarest, head of the ad hoc division at the police department. Each newspaper was assigned a resident censor who submitted each copy to the minister for approval in the evening (Holtman, 1950, pp. 38, 49–50). Censors examined the political commentaries and checked that no forbidden topic surfaced in the papers’ columns. Many issues could only be covered once Le Moniteur had treated them. These included military and religious affairs, the Bourbons, the Jesuits, Napoléon’s public declarations and anything concerning him personally (ibid., p. 52). Countless other subjects were banned, such as any news susceptible to lowering the morale of the population (suicides, for example), and news about economic difficulties (rises in gain prices, for example) (Cabanis, 1970, pp. 205–31). The use of foreign sources of information was strictly forbidden (Holtman, 1950, p. 53). Not a word of Napoléon’s defeats filtered into the press. News about the Battle of Trafalgar was published weeks after the fateful 21 October 1805 (Holtman, 1950, p. 59; Cabanis, 1970, pp. 226–7). Despite these coercive measures, the day came when Napoléon found newspapers to be too numerous. In 1810, it was decided that only one newspaper per department could publish political news, which had first to appear in Le Moniteur.2 In 1811, the 13 Parisian


newspapers that had survived the first purge were reduced to four, leaving Le Journal de l’Empire, La Gazette de France, Le Journal de Paris and Le Moniteur. Le Journal de l’Empire was no other paper than the former Journal des Débats, renamed by Napoléon because he felt uneasy about a newspaper incorporating the word ‘Débats’ in its title (Welschinger, 1887, p. 117). The emperor subjected these surviving titles to coercive measures that were economic in scope. They had to wage the censor who was assigned to them and a stamp duty of three to five centimes was imposed on each printed copy. In August 1805, he ordained a levy of one-sixth to one-fourth of newspapers’ income (Holtman, 1950, p. 56). Finally, their assets were seized by decree on 17 September 1811. Newspapers were confiscated and the shares of the most prominent title, Le Journal de l’Empire, were split between the Minister of Police and his cronies (Welschinger, 1887, p. 118). The main, and substantial, difference between Napoléon and de Gaulle is that the president was more respectful of the freedom of the press (Chapter 3), Bonapartism being undoubtedly more authoritarian than Gaullism. On the other hand, there are analogies between the two leaders in their handling of public communications. Both thought about the press in relation to their own leadership and judged newspapers on their political merit. Both blamed journalists for their divisive influence on public opinion, their partisanship and close relationship to political parties, their alleged lack of patriotism and collusion with foreign powers. Both leaders inaugurated new regimes and regarded ideological support as paramount to their rise. Both focused their attention on the most advanced medium of their time: the press for Napoléon and the broadcasting media for de Gaulle. Napoléon imposed stringent press censorship, but let book publishing go relatively free (Cabanis, 1975, pp. 166–7), while de Gaulle maintained governmental control over the national broadcaster, but respected the freedom of the press. The imperial regime had several official titles, and, likewise, the Gaullist regime did its best to keep the ORTF as the official voice of the government. Napoléon, who wrote articles himself, and de Gaulle, who regularly appeared on national radio and television, liked to communicate directly with the nation. Both communicated with drama and self-awareness,


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and both believed in the importance of psychology in the art of leading the masses and in the necessity of symbol-laden communications which addressed people’s inner feelings and deepest emotions. 9.1.3 Public communications and the project of the nation-state With different degrees of authoritarianism, Richelieu, Napoléon and de Gaulle adopted a comparable approach to public communications. All three regarded political communication as essential to political leadership and were directly involved in the communications effort of their respective regime. They kept control over key media organizations and ensured a strong presence for themselves and their government in the public sphere. All three approached public communications from the angle of state power and political leadership. The parallels stem from the continuity of the political project pursued by these leaders that has the nation-state at its core. Richelieu began when he laid the foundations of the modern French state, confronted the remnants of feudalism, unified the country against dissenting forces, reinforced the monarchy against feuding aristocratic factions, reformed the administration and strengthened the position of France in Europe. Likewise, Napoléon confronted the aristocracy, unified a fractious country, centralized power, modernized France’s administration and sought a dominating role for France in Europe. De Gaulle represents the project’s last sustained effort. Like his predecessors, he provided strong leadership, fought vested ‘centrifugal’ interests, reinforced state authority, tried to heal the country’s divisions and preserve national unity, centralized power, expanded the state apparatus and sought to enhance the rank of France in the world. Centuries separate these regimes. They are kept apart by the French Revolution, technological progress and the rise of the market economy. But all three administrations were dictated by the same project that places the nation-state at the heart of the political agenda. A common purpose bred similarities between the three public communications systems and the approach to public communications of all three leaders.


9.2

De Gaulle and contemporary American presidents

This section compares de Gaulle’s engagement in the process of public communications with that of the four American presidents who were his contemporaries: Eisenhower, Kennedy, Johnson and Nixon. This comparison is primarily ‘contrast-oriented’ (Skocpol and Somers, 1980, p. 175), and focuses on two main aspects of the French and American presidential communications system: the presidential press conference and the presidential uses of television. 9.2.1 The presidential press conference in France and the United States Even though each American president who governed when de Gaulle was in power brought his own style to the press conference, the French and American versions of the event still differ in three major ways. Frequency American presidents staged press conference far more frequently than de Gaulle. Dwight D. Eisenhower (1953–61) held press conferences twice less frequently than his predecessor, Harry S. Truman, who himself had cut by half the frequency of his own predecessor, Franklin D. Roosevelt. The frequency passed from an average of 81.5 conferences per year under Roosevelt to 41.8 under Truman and 23.8 under Eisenhower (Pollard, 1964, p. 87). John F. Kennedy (1961–63) did not depart much from Eisenhower, his 63 press conferences in 1076 days produced an average of 21.4 press conferences per year. The yearly rate of Lyndon B. Johnson (1963–69) stood higher than the former two office holders, but this camouflages an erratic pattern. Johnson held 41 press conferences in 1966, 17 in 1965 and 19 in 1968 (ibid., p. 105; Bornet, 1983, p. 156). The frequency sharply dropped with Richard Nixon (1969–74), who held 39 conferences in 67 months of office, averaging only seven conferences per year. Yet, even Nixon staged many more conferences than de Gaulle. He stayed in power half the time served by his French counterpart, but gave twice as many conferences. He held a conference every two months, while the French president held less than two per year. Thus the yearly average of press conferences given by de


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Table 9.1 Number and frequency of press conferences held by de Gaulle and contemporary American presidents

Eisenhower Kennedy Johnson Nixon de Gaulle

Number

Months in office

Yearly average

190 63 135 39 18

96 34 62 67 130

23.8 21.4 26.1 7 1.7

Sources: Pollard, 1964, pp. 87, 105; French, 1982, p. 17; Bornet, 1983, p. 156; Thomas, 1978, p. i.

Gaulle remained far below those of any of his American contemporaries (Table 9.1). Staging The staging of de Gaulle’s press conferences was more formal than that of contemporary American presidents. The American presidential press conference began as an informal gathering of reporters in the president’s office, until the increasing number of attendants forced Truman to move the event to the Indian Treaty Room in the Executive Office Building in 1950 (French, 1982, p. 9). Eisenhower used the same room, giving his first press conference in front of 250 correspondents and the last one in front of more than 300 journalists. Several innovations were introduced during the Eisenhower presidency: in December 1953, Eisenhower’s press secretary allowed delayed radio broadcasts; in December 1954, reporters could quote the president directly, and in January 1955, cameras were allowed at presidential press conferences, tapes being released for delayed televised broadcasts (Smith, 1990, p. 37). John F. Kennedy selected the State Department auditorium to accommodate a crowd of more than 400 reporters and photographers. He decided to broadcast live his press conferences at the onset and held his first live conference on 25 January 1961, five days after his inauguration. Kennedy’s choice of venue contributed to enhance the formality of the event. He stood on a podium behind a rostrum with the presidential seal. The large size of the auditorium allowed him to stand farther apart from journalists, the first row of reporters sitting at approximately nine feet from the president.


Once at the helm of the country, Lyndon B. Johnson felt uncomfortable with the idea of conducting live press conferences. He postponed as long as possible his first television performance and communicated with journalists in the most informal way. His inaugural, and extemporaneous, press conference took place on 7 December 1963, his press secretary announcing to reporters that the president was inviting them for a cup of coffee (Salinger, 1966, p. 337). His first live press conference came almost three months later and took place at the International Conference Room of the State Department on 29 February 1964. Johnson did not adhere to a single format but varied from the impromptu gathering with reporters to the formal broadcast conference. Nor did he hold them at a regular venue; they took place in a variety of locations, including the White House Oval Office, Cabinet Room, Theater and South Lawn, the International Conference Room of the State Department and his Texan ranch, where a podium was once set up on two haybales (French, 1982, pp. 16–17).3 Richard M. Nixon had a more solemn approach to the event than his predecessor. He held most press conferences in the East Room, whose elegance he appreciated. The conferences were broadcast live and he spoke in a stand-up microphone with a blue curtain as a backdrop. However, the setting remained less formal than that of Kennedy. The latter spoke behind a rostrum with a presidential seal, while Nixon was standing behind a microphone. Kennedy stood slightly higher above journalists than Nixon, as Kennedy was elevated by a podium which itself rested on a platform. Journalists also sat further from Kennedy than Nixon. The trappings of the East Room may have been more elegant than those of the State Department Auditorium, but the large empty space around Kennedy accentuated the presidential status of the speaker. Kennedy came closer than any of his predecessors to the Gaullist model, even though the French presidential conference remained far more stately and majestic (Section 7.2). De Gaulle did not have as much space between him and the first row of journalists, but he spoke from a higher platform and to an audience more than twice the size of that of Kennedy. He had his entire government sitting on his right and the full presidential house on his left. Kennedy only took his press secretary and assistant with him. Finally, the State


201

Department auditorium was not as sumptuous as the ballroom of the Elysée. Having inaugurated the presidential press conference in France, de Gaulle had the advantage of not inheriting the event from the pre-television age.4 His American counterparts had to upgrade a previously unceremonious gathering with the White House correspondents to the needs of the cameras and a growing press corps. Adversarial versus representational format The relationship between the speaker and his audience was another contrasting feature between the French and American presidential press conference. De Gaulle was in complete control and was lecturing the press with a memorized text (Section 7.2). American presidents did not enjoy such dominance over their audience and were forced to develop strategies to attenuate the confrontation with reporters (Thomas, 1978, p. iv; Smith, 1990, p. 39). De Gaulle’s press conferences were representional in character, while the American presidential press conference, despite the changes brought by television cameras, remained adversarial in scope (Smith, 1990, pp. 1–64). It did not preclude American presidents and journalists from having a cooperative relationship, but the antagonism between the protagonists was stronger and more apparent in Washington than in Paris. Although reporters were fairly deferential towards Eisenhower, they unsettled him occasionally. He once stalked out of the press conference, facing persistent questioning about the McCarthy campaign (Smith, 1990, p. 38). He also had to endure embarrassing questions about his health. Kennedy had no more control than his predecessor over White House correspondents. His team tried to reduce the unpredictability of the event by anticipating reporters’ questions and his press secretary confessed to planting questions from time to time (Salinger, 1966, p. 141). He was briefed by his aides and went through a dry run of questions before each press conference (ibid., pp. 137–8). The relationship between president and journalists deteriorated during the Johnson presidency, and the adversarial nature of the American presidential press conference became more apparent, as reporters became more confrontational. Johnson made a vain attempt at determining the agenda of these meetings by reading


opening statements, but these were not well received by White House correspondents. He progressively faced a barrage of questions on sensitive issues including civil rights and the Vietnam War. Journalists grew disillusioned with his answers and at one stage alleged that his omissions, denials and evasive answers were creating a ‘credibility gap’ (Turner, 1985, pp. 134–69). ‘Toward the end of Johnson’s administration’, Blaire French writes, ‘the tension in his press conferences was unrelenting’ (French, 1982, p. 18). The hostility between reporters and the president reached new heights with Richard Nixon, who had a history of poor relationship with journalists. At the onset of his presidency, his staff changed the terminology from ‘press conference’ to ‘news conference’ in order to underscore that the meetings were not about the press, but were designed to generate news from and about the president (Smith, 1990, p. 48). Nixon called far less conferences than his predecessors, adding to the frustration of White House correspondents (Thomas, 1978, p. i). During Nixon’s press conferences, the US policy in Southeast Asia was the source of many adversarial questions from White House reporters, and the president betrayed his exasperation on several occasions. In April 1971, responding to a question about antiwar demonstrations, he told the audience that he was aware that ‘many reporters’ disliked his policy and ‘probably agree with the views of the demonstrators’ (in Thomas, 1978, p. 161). From being adversarial, questions became openly hostile as the Watergate investigation gradually became the main issue. In August 1973, the questioning was so rough that Nixon walked off the platform before the final ‘Thank you, Mr President’ from the most senior correspondent (ibid., p. ii). Two months later, Dan Rather, the CBS correspondent, asked him what were his thoughts on questions of impeachment and resignation. The president snapped back: ‘Well, I am glad we don’t take the vote in this room, let me say’ (ibid., p. 368). At the same press conference, when asked if the nation had yet reached the breaking point, Nixon’s reply included the following comments: ‘I have never heard or seen such outrageous, vicious, distorted reporting in 27 years of public life. I am not blaming anybody for that. […] But when people are pounded night after night with that kind of frantic, hysterical reporting, it naturally shakes their confidence’ (ibid., p. 369). Nixon’s most bitter answer


203

was yet to come. When asked why he was angry over television coverage, he replied that he was not, because ‘one can only be angry with those he respects’ (ibid., p. 373). The Johnson and Nixon presidencies epitomize the adversarial aspect of the American presidential press conference that was absent in de Gaulle’s format. Like Nixon, de Gaulle inherited a controversial war that he was seeking to end. Unlike his American counterpart, the French president did not have to put up with tough questioning on the Algerian conflict. He spoke about the Algerian conflict when he chose to and with carefully prepared statements.

The differences between the French and American presidential press conference, then, are due to several causes. American presidents did not have de Gaulle’s freedom in designing the event’s format. They inherited a format that was initially an informal gathering with White House correspondents and they could claim the meeting as their own as much as presidents could. While the most senior correspondent thanked the speaker at the end of the American conference, it was de Gaulle who expressed his thanks to the audience. American presidents could introduce changes only progressively, and none of them could afford de Gaulle’s lofty attitude. The press also had a longer tradition as a politically independent institution in America than in France. The American press had acquired more power vis-à-vis politicians than the French and this was reflected in the ability of White House correspondents to challenge presidents. As Johnson’s unsuccessful attempt to read an opening statement at his press conferences showed, no American reporter would have consented to be lectured for 90 minutes, but French journalists had to comply with de Gaulle’s conditions because they lacked the tradition and the power to negotiate better ones. 9.2.2

Presidential uses of television

De Gaulle’s communications strategy had one point in common with that of most of his American counterparts: the reliance on television to gain direct access to the electorate and bypass a hostile press. The wish to circumvent the press was the main motive behind Kennedy’s decision to broadcast live press conferences. The presi-


dent’s press secretary admitted that the determining factor behind the decision ‘was the editorial opposition [they] were certain to encounter from a majority of the newspapers on domestic policy’ (Salinger, 1966, p. 56). ‘We wouldn’t have a prayer without that gadget’, Kennedy once told Salinger, and the president rejoiced in the opportunity ‘to go around the newspapers if that becomes necessary’ (ibid., p. 54). Johnson did not need to rely as much on television as Kennedy. He had a long congressional experience and a favourable majority in Congress. He enjoyed an unparalleled rate of legislative success and thus direct access to the electorate was not as crucial to him as it was to the other presidential incumbents. For his desire to circumvent the press with television, it is Nixon who most resembles de Gaulle. Both leaders had an ‘us against them’ vision of journalists and were openly hostile to them.5 As one of Nixon’s speechwriters recalls: In all the world of ‘us against them’, the press was the quintessential ‘them’, the fount and the succor of other ‘them’. In terms of power, the academic ‘them’ was insignificant; the socio-cultural elitist ‘them’ was useful as a foil that would help attract workingmen to a Nixon coalition; the liberal, political ‘them’ was in the process of destroying itself by narrowing its base along severe ideological-faddist lines; but the journalistic ‘them’ was formidable and infuriating, a force to be feared in its own right. (Safire, 1975, p. 341) Nixon was more than keen to turn to the broadcast media to evade the press. He made frequent and varied appearances on television, including talk-shows and entertainment programmes. He used the networks for numerous announcements, beginning with the introduction of his Cabinet members on 11 December 1968 (Keogh, 1972, pp. 38–9). By May 1972, he had made 29 television appearances, admitting – in a very Gaullist fashion – that they were devised to ‘to go over the heads of the columnists’ (in Spear, 1984, pp. 86–7). He acknowledged that ‘without television, it might have been difficult for me to get people to understand a thing’ (ibid., p. 85). De Gaulle and his American counterparts, Nixon in particular, had a common need for television, but the French president had a


205

significant advantage because the national broadcaster was under government control. This gave the French head of state unrestricted access to the national airwaves. By way of contrast, when the idea of live television press conferences was first floated by the Kennedy entourage, the president doubted that the network would ‘buy’ the idea (in Salinger, 1966, p. 54). Nixon’s press conferences were limited to 30 minutes because of the loss in revenue they occasioned to broadcasters (French, 1982, p. 19). De Gaulle’s press conferences were more than twice as long and broadcast time and again within the day by the ORTF. Governmental control also spared de Gaulle hostile television coverage. For instance, it relieved him of the risk of a news anchorman going to war-torn Algeria and reporting back to the nation. Johnson was not so lucky and had to endure, among others, Walter Cronkite (CBS) coming back from Vietnam with a special television report that sent ‘shock waves’ through the government (Maltese, 1994, p. 14). 9.2.3

Conclusions

There are more differences than similarities between the French and American presidential communications system in the 1960s. De Gaulle did not have to interact with journalists during his press conferences, and governmental control over the ORTF guaranteed positive political coverage. In all, the French leader had far more influence on the news agenda than American presidents.6 When Kennedy visited Paris in 1961, André Malraux asked him the following question: ‘How can you hold such a country without controlling television?’ (in Peyrefitte, 1994b, p. 501). Kennedy’s answer, and that of his successors, had been news management. By the end of 1960s, Nixon, facing relentless pressure from the news media, had created the White House Office of Communications, in charge of the overall presidential communications strategy (Maltese, 1994). On the other hand, both de Gaulle and his American counterparts grasped the opportunity offered by television to get around the press and communicate directly with the electorate. On both sides of the Atlantic, television became the cornerstone of the presidential communications strategy, with the major difference that American presidents, who did not control it, tried to manipulate it.


Conclusion: a Statist Public Communications System

During the de Gaulle presidency, the public communications system was marked by the dominance of the state. The press was heavily regulated and subsidized and related sectors, such as newspaper distribution and newsprint supplies, were either state-run or state-controlled. In broadcasting, by virtue of its monopoly, the state was the sole player. This dominance gave the French communications system very distinctive features. Political and administrative decision-makers were the main influence on public communications. The structure of the system and the role that many individuals and organizations played in it were largely fashioned by legislative and administrative decisions. Market forces had no significant influence because legislation prevented the formation of markets and of independent economic actors in the media field. The dirigiste media policy eschewed notions of individual choice and consumption to concentrate on the political and collective needs of the nation-state and its citizens. It aimed to protect state control over broadcasting and, consequently, slowed down the development of a broadcasting industry. Television was entrenched in the nation-state. As Alain Peyrefitte once admitted, it was the equivalent of the ‘French state in the dining room of each citizen’ (see Section 5.1.2). Television was supposed to help the regime govern, promote national identity, be the voice of the state in France and of France abroad. It was also expected to maintain social cohesion and find a common language for one large, undivided, national audience. 207


The attitude of the regime towards the media was not strictly speaking authoritarian. It contained a strong element of authority but remained largely within the limits of a democratic framework (Chalaby, 1998). Thus, political power remained the chief influence in the public sphere. Freedom of expression prevailed, but the government had privileged access to the broadcasting media. Divergent voices were heard, but that of the government was the strongest. This gave the public sphere a unity of tone and purpose centred on the political agenda and ideology of the government. It also gave the public sphere a pyramidal structure: de Gaulle occupied the most visible position in it and was the point of focus where all gazes converged.

Appendix 1 Appendix 1

Ministers or officials in charge of information, 1958–72

Dates

Name

Title

Government

3 June 1958–6 July 1958

André Malraux

Charles de Gaulle

7 July 1958–8 January 1959 9 January 1959–4 February 1960 5 February 1960–23 August 1961 24 August 1961–14 April 1962 15 April 1962–11 September 1962 12 September 1962–6 December 1962

Jacques Soustelle Roger Frey Louis Terrenoire Christian de la Malène Alain Peyrefitte Christian Fouchet

7 December 1962–7 January 1966 8 January 1966–1 April 1967

Alain Peyrefitte Yvon Bourges

2 April 1967–30 May 1968 31 May 1968–11 July 1968

Georges Gorse Yves Guéna

Minister Delegate to the Presidency of the Council Minister Minister Minister Minister Minister Minister Delegate for Information to the Prime Minister’s Office Minister Secretary of State for the Prime Minister’s Office Minister Minister

12 July 1968–19 June 1969

Joël Le Theule

20 June 1969–4 July 1972

Léo Hammon, then Jean-Philippe Lecat

Secretary of State for the Prime Minister’s Office Spokesman for the Government*

Charles de Gaulle Michel Debré Michel Debré Michel Debré Georges Pompidou Georges Pompidou

Georges Pompidou Georges Pompidou Georges Pompidou Georges Pompidou Maurice Couve de Murville Jacques Chaban-Delmas

209

* The post of Minister of Information disappears and the Technical and Legal Service of Information is attached to the Prime Minister’s office, who is then in charge of the press and national broadcasting.



Directors-General, RTF/ORTF, 1949–73

Dates

Name

Title

February 1949 February 1957 July 1958 March 1960 February 1962 July 1964 June 1968 July 1972

Wladimir Porché Gabriel Delaunay Christian Chavanon Raymond Janot Robert Bordaz Jacques-Bernard Dupont Jean-Jacques de Bresson Arthur Conte

October 1973

Marceau Long

Director-General, RTF Director-General, RTF Director-General, RTF Director-General, RTF Director-General, RTF Director-General, ORTF Director-General, ORTF President-Director-General, ORTF President-Director-General, ORTF

211



Directors of Television, RTF/ORTF, 1952–72

Dates

First channel

Second channel

Title

June 1952

Jean d’Arcy

–

October 1959

Albert Ollivier

–

July 1964

Claude Contamine

Claude Contamine

Director of Programmes Director of Programmes Director of Television Director of Television Director of Television Channel Director Channel Director Channel Director

September 1967 Emile Biasini

Emile Biasini

July 1968

André François

André François

January 1970

Pierre Sabbagh

Maurice Cazeneuve

September 1971 Roland Dhordain

Pierre Sabbagh

July 1972

Pierre Sabbagh

Jacqueline Baudrier

213


Appendix 4 Appendix 4 Number of television sets and percentage of households possessing a television set, 1950–74 Year

Number of television sets

Percentage of households with a television set

1950 1951 1952 1953 1954 1955 1956 1957 1958 1959 1960 1961 1962 1963 1964 1965 1966 1967 1968 1969 1970 1971 1972 1973 1974

3 794 10 558 23 964 59 971 125 088 260 508 442 433 638 229 988 594 1 368 145 1 901 946 2 554 821 3 426 839 4 400 278 5 414 276 6 489 014 7 471 192 8 316 325 9 251 555 10 120 797 10 967 913 11 654 559 12 332 151 12 954 513 13 558 500

– – – – 1 – – 6.1 – – 13.1 – 23.1 27.3 39.3 45.6 51.7 58 61.9 66.4 70.4 74.2 77.5 79.1 82.4

Source:

Bourdon, 1990, p. 303; Michel, 1995, pp. 20, 47, 72; Brochand, 1996, p. 26.

215


Notes 1 1

2 3

4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

12 13 14 15 16

The Press, 1945–69 All newspapers that pursued publication in the free zone two weeks after the signature of the Armistice on 25 June 1940 were forbidden to re-appear at the Liberation. In the free zone, all newspapers that pursued publication two weeks after its occupation on 11 November 1942 were also banned. For an unionist’s perspective, see Lancry, 1993. Statistics on the French press, unlike others, indicate print-run rather than circulation figures. A print-run is the number of printed copies per issue, and is on average 10 to 15 per cent higher than circulation figures. 1969 figures. 1967 figures. Estimated figures. Estimated figures. 1965 figures. Estimated figures. Estimated figures. See, for example, Legris, 1976; Simonnot, 1977; Jeanneney, 1979; Sablier, 1984; Doléans, 1988; Rémond, 1990; Sainderichin, 1990; Thibau, 1996. 1959 figures. 1957 figures. 1963 figures. Estimated figures. Some of the features of the French press during this period stand in stark contrast with those of the British press. The sales of British national dailies were far higher than those of Paris-based newspapers. Between 1959 and 1969, British national newspapers had a combined average circulation of 15.5 million daily copies, compared with 4.3 million for the Paris-based dailies. British regional newspapers managed a circulation of 8.5 million daily copies during the same decade, one million more than their French counterparts (Seymour-Ure, 1996, p. 17; Service Juridique et Technique de l’Information, 1996, p. 102). The national press had more ascendancy over the regional press in Britain than in France, and the circulation ratio between national and provincial newspapers stood at 1.8 in Britain as against 0.6 in France. The commercial success of the British press makes conspicuous the absence of a mass selling newspaper in France. France-Soir was the only 217

218 Notes

17

18

2 1

French newspaper whose sales passed the million mark. This compares poorly with Britain, where five daily newspapers had an average circulation of above a million daily copies in 1965. The leader in the popular market, the Daily Mirror, sold above 5 million daily copies in the mid1960s (Seymour-Ure, 1996, pp. 28–9). It has been debated whether the Constitution of the Fifth Republic, approved by referendum on 28 September 1958, amended in October 1962 for the election of the president by universal suffrage, is indeed a presidential system. Maurice Duverger suggests that the concept of semipresidential government is useful to refer to regimes where the head of state is not the head of government, i.e. where there is not only a president but a prime minister and a government drawn from the parliamentary majority (Duverger, 1986). Duverger’s interpretation is indisputable from a legal perspective. From a political point of view, it is more significant to refer to the way the constitutional framework of the Fifth Republic is actually practised. According to Juan Linz, the Fifth Republic ‘instead of semi-presidential has most often been presidential and only occasionally parliamentary’ (Linz, 1994, p. 52). This analysis takes into account the contrast between the great powers exercised by French presidents when supported by a coherent parliamentary majority – the presidential phase – and the so-called ‘cohabitation periods’ when a prime minister issued from a different parliamentary majority to that of the president considerably curtails the powers of the chief of state. Duverger himself underlines the existence of these two phases and the fact that when the parliamentary majority is of the same party complexion as the president, French presidents are ‘supreme heads of the executive and real heads of the government’ (Duverger, 1992, p. 145). De Gaulle planned the Fifth Republic as a presidential regime. At a press conference in September 1964, he stated that there could be no diarchy at the helm of government and that the prime minister simply assisted the president with current affairs and day-to-day business, and that the authority of the state is indivisible and solely entrusted to the president (de Gaulle, 1970e, pp. 167–8). Lucien Guissard, for instance, one of La Croix’s columnists, affirmed: ‘The role played by television [during the presidential election] confirms its well-known psychological influence on individuals and its impact on democracy […] the forum extends to the family, direct contact is reinforced, personal judgement is solicited in a pressing way: the risk of demagogy does not diminish, quite the contrary’ (La Croix, 5–6 December 1965).

Press Opinion during the de Gaulle Presidency See Caudron, 1991; Jalabert, 1991; Lavoinne, 1991a, b: Chilov, 1991; Sandner, 1991; Watson, 1991; Xiaoming, 1991; Montergnole 1992; Schalk, 1992; Wright, 1992; Albert, 1992; Brandel, 1992; Garcin, 1993.

Notes 219

2

For example, in a typical outburst, de Gaulle declared to Alain Peyrefitte, his Minister of Information: The behaviour of our press is absolutely scandalous. I have been witnessing it for twenty-three years [speaking in 1963, he is counting from June 1940]. The French press hates France. This is why I have been around a resolutely hostile press to reach the French public for twenty-three years, first through radio, and now through television. (in Peyrefitte, 1994b, p. 391)

3

4

5

6

7

Below the threshold of 200 000 copies, with few exceptions, local newspapers paid scant attention to national politics and relied almost exclusively on the newswires. Many of them had agreements with regional dailies and simply reproduced their news pages. Results of the presidential election are as follows: first round, 5 December 1965: de Gaulle, 43.7 per cent; François Mitterrand, 32.2 per cent; Jean Lecanuet, 15.8 per cent. Second round, 19 December 1965: de Gaulle beats Mitterrand with 54.5 per cent of the votes (Goguel, 1966, pp. 226, 239). The second referendum in January 1961 (home rule for Algeria) and the third referendum in April 1962 (Evian Treaty) were not taken into consideration because of the cross-partisan consensus that developed in their favour. In addition, the first two legislative elections took place immediately after the first and fourth referenda, in November 1958 and November 1962 respectively. The coding categories used to analyse the sample are divided into two groups. The first includes four categories that measure the degree of bias of the news selection and news reporting. Newspapers are noted as being ‘neutral’, ‘slightly biased’, ‘biased’ or ‘strongly biased’. In the case of the three referenda and the 1965 presidential election, the bias could be in favour of or against de Gaulle and the government. During the 1967 legislative elections, newspapers were biased for or against a political party. Newspapers classified in any of these categories on a particular occasion are those that show or express preferences for a political position seen within the broad limits of journalistic standards. This implies that authors of journalistic statements lay claims to truthfulness, accuracy and objectivity (McNair, 1998, p. 5). It follows that the leading articles and political columns, however biased, should keep away from purely partisan rhetoric and that commentaries, however slanted, must not be completely blinded by political ideology. It also entails that the news policy these newspapers followed must retain a modicum of fairness. Facts and events unfavourable to the preferences of the newspaper must not be systematically ignored or distorted nor should the newspaper deny access to individuals of an opposing political persuasion. The second group includes two categories. Newspapers can ‘support/oppose’ a political figure or political party, or, to depict an

220 Notes

even stronger stance, ‘campaign for/crusade against’ a candidate or a political party. Thus the two groups are as follows: First group:

Second group:

8

9

10

11

12 13

14 15

neutral slightly biased biased strongly biased support/oppose campaign for/crusade against

There is a significant gap between the two groups, since newspapers cross the line between journalism and political propaganda. The reporting and news selection of propaganda newspapers go beyond biased coverage and their partisanship passes the boundaries of journalistic standards. Inasmuch as journalism is the continuation of politics by other means, these newspapers remain within the confines of politics. Categories in the second group are applied when the signs accumulate that political imperatives take over journalism, that is, when newspapers display the following discursive phenomena: frequent use of partisan rhetoric in leading articles and political columns; access denied to politicians and civil society representatives of the opposite camp; and subordination of information to propaganda imperatives. Jean Lecanuet called for his supporters either to abstain or vote for the leftist candidate. The Centrist candidate hoped for a dissolution of the National Assembly in the case of Mitterrand’s victory. Antoine Wenger, the editor of La Croix between 1957 and 1969, acknowledged the paper’s policy of neutrality at an international conference on Charles de Gaulle in 1990. He also admitted being personally rather in favour of de Gaulle (Institut Charles de Gaulle, 1991, p. 423). During the week preceding the referendum, opinion polls conducted by SOFRES predicted an average 6 per cent lead of No votes (47 per cent as against 53 per cent) (Le Figaro, 24 April 1969). On Cuba, see France-Observateur, 11 October 1962, pp. 12–15; 21 July 1965, p. 10; on Algeria, see ibid., 8 November 1962, pp. 10–11; 15 November 1962, pp. 10–11; on East Germany, see ibid., 4 October 1962, pp. 13–15. On the CIA, see Le Nouvel Observateur, 4 August 1965, pp. 1–3; on the Vietnam War, see ibid., 11 August 1965, pp. 2–3. See Le Nouvel Observateur, 15 September 1965, pp. 1, 3–4; 29 September 1965, pp. 8–10; 27 October 1965, pp. 4–7; 3 November 1965, pp. 11–15; 17 November 1965, pp. 6–7; 24 November 1965, p. 9; 15 December 1965, pp. 1–2. See, for example, Le Nouvel Observateur, 15 February 1967, pp. 15–22; 1 March 1967, pp. 19–25. The managing editor of L’Express was himself a centrist candidate for a constituency in Normandy at the forthcoming legislative elections in November. Although he drew parallels between his campaign and that

Notes 221

16

17 18 19

20

21

of President John F. Kennedy, he lost to a Gaullist candidate (L’Express, 25 October 1962, p. 52). Modesty was not one of his virtues. L’Express, 27 September 1962, pp. 9–10; 4 October 1962, pp. 11–14; 11 October 1962, pp. 15–18; 18 October 1962, pp. 13–15; 25 October 1962, pp. 14–16. For example, L’Express, 14 April 1969, pp. 53–9; 21 April 1969, pp. 59–63. On education, see Natanson, 1965; Durand, 1965; on broadcasting, see Gargan, 1964; Errera, 1968. These themes surfaced even more directly in Poulantzas’s later writings, when he developed the notions of ‘authoritarian statism’ and the ‘dominant mass party’ in reference to French and European politics (Poulantzas, 1978, pp. 223–75). In his Memoirs of Hope, de Gaulle refers to Malraux in these terms: ‘On my right, then as always, was André Malraux. The presence at my side of this friend and genius, this devotee of lofty destinies, gave me a sense of being insured against the commonplace. The conception which this incomparable witness to our age had formed of me did much to fortify me. I know that, in debate, when the subject was grave, his flashing judgments would help me to dispel the shadows’ (de Gaulle, 1970a, p. 285; English translation, 1971b, p. 272). (On the relationship between de Gaulle and Malraux, see Espoir 111, April 1997, and Mossuz-Lavau, 1982.) Opinion polls conducted during the de Gaulle presidency by the Institut français d’opinion publique (IFOP), France’s largest polling company in the 1960s, are more or less congruent with patterns of press support and voting figures. De Gaulle’s satisfaction index remained above 60 per cent until August 1962 (averaging 65 per cent between July 1958 and June 1962), and then declined to settle at around the 50 per cent range until the end of the presidency (averaging 56.3 per cent during this period). This index was extremely volatile and could gain or lose up to 15 per cent within a month. It reached its lowest point in March 1963, during the five-week miners’ strike, being measured then at 42 per cent, and was recorded as 52–53 per cent during the crisis of May and June 1968. De Gaulle’s satisfaction index gives the following scores (aggregation by approximate semester): July–November 1958: 66.7 per cent; April–October 1959: 66 per cent; January–June 1960: 68.7 per cent; July–November 1960: 66.3 per cent; February–July 1961: 66.8 per cent; July–December 1961: 59.2 per cent; January–June 1962: 62.3 per cent; August–November 1962: 59.2 per cent; January–May 1963: 51.1 per cent; July–December 1963: 48.7 per cent; January–June 1964: 53.4 per cent; June–December 1964: 53.6 per cent; January–June 1965: 59.8 per cent; July–December 1965: 59.5 per cent; January–June 1966: 57.3 per cent; June–December 1966: 63.5 per cent; January–June 1967: 62.2 per cent; July–December 1967: 55.7 per cent; January–June 1968: 55.9 per cent; July–December 1968: 55.3 per cent; January–April 1969: 53.2 per cent (IFOP, 1971, pp. 204–8; see also Sadoun, 1991).

222 Notes

22

23

3 1 2

3

4 5

6 7 8

9 10

This appears clearly in Le Progrès’s motives for its rejection of the referendum. Just before polling day on 28 October 1962, an editorial criticized the referendum on the grounds that the election of the president by universal suffrage excluded ‘les notables’ from politics. (So far, the president was elected by an 80 000-strong college that included most of France’s ‘notables’.) The Lyon newspaper went on to warn that their ‘exclusion will weight heavily on the political and administrative life of the nation’ (Le Progrès, 27 October 1962). In Le Monde, Beuve-Méry resorted to an argument that, in fine, is not dissimilar. He motivated his rejection on the basis of the risks and uncertainties associated with ‘plebiscitary presidentialism’. He criticized the excessive concentration of power, the cult of personality and the instability of the future regime, arguing that the rule of law would depend now on the ‘good will of the prince’ (Le Monde, 22 September 1962). Historian Jean Tulard notes that there has often been a time lapse between the fall of favour of French leaders (including Napoléon, Napoléon III, Adolphe Thiers and Charles de Gaulle) with the elite and their departure from office (Tulard, 1987, pp. 409, 455–7).

The President and the Press De Gaulle, 1954, pp. 61, 98, 107, 110, 178, 198, 255, 280, 297, 319, 320, 322; 1956, pp. 211, 204; 1970a, pp. 248, 284; 1971a, p. 47. De Gaulle, 1954, pp. 9, 138, 156, 176, 230, 233, 251, 269, 275; 1959, p. 342; 1970a, pp. 20, 39–40, 68, 82, 90, 92, 144, 154–5, 178, 198, 218, 255, 258, 302, 303, 312; 1971a, pp. 21–2, 37, 58–9, 79–81, 108, 197. De Gaulle, 1954, pp. 9, 35, 93, 140, 154, 156, 175, 251, 275; 1956, p. 355; 1959, pp. 138, 139–40, 342; 1970a, pp. 12, 18, 20, 39–40, 90, 92, 140, 145, 154–5, 198, 218, 258, 312; 1971a, pp. 37, 58–9, 91, 197. De Gaulle, 1954, pp. 22, 32; 1959, pp. 169; 223, 234, 266; 1970a, pp. 68, 104, 169–70, 312. De Gaulle, 1954, p. 269; 1959, p. 138. The total is higher than 100 per cent because some passages contain more than one criticism of the press. De Gaulle, 1954, pp. 19–20, 95, 111–2, 175, 269. De Gaulle, 1954, pp. 19–20. Peyrefitte, 1994b, pp. 222–3, 358–9, 370, 387–93, 410, 419, 422, 500, 542, 554, 570, 588; Peyrefitte, 1997, pp. 50, 66, 81, 86, 104, 123–4, 133, 166, 191–7, 221, 227, 251, 343, 476, 503, 530, 571, 588, 615, Foccart, 1997, pp. 361, 685, 739, 757, 764. Peyrefitte, 1994b, pp. 388, 554, 570, 588; Peyrefitte, 1997, pp. 503, 588; Foccart, 1997, p. 685. Peyrefitte, 1994b, pp. 388, 419, 570; Foccart, 1997, p. 685; Sainderichin, 1990, pp. 18, 152, 155–7.

Notes 223

11 12

13

14

15

16

17

A play on words with Le Monde, meaning vile, foul, nasty. De Gaulle despised the press but knew it well. He read French newspapers attentively, particularly Le Figaro and Le Monde, devoting approximately half-an-hour to the reading of the latter newspaper. He carefully monitored the public declarations of his ministers and let them know immediately when their statements stepped out of the government line. He was presented daily with the headlines of at least three British newspapers, The Daily Telegraph, The Times and The Guardian (Alain Peyrefitte, interview, 4 May 1999). Walter Lippmann, whom de Gaulle met several times while president, was the exception to this rule. Lippmann had been a fervent Gaullist since the Second World War and his role in the 1960s was that of a diplomat as much as a journalist (Steel, 1991). These three newspapers, together with Le Journal des Débats, all of conservative leaning, were read in the de Gaulle household. The de Gaulle family ceased to read L’Action française, an ultra conservative newspaper, when it was indexed by the papal authorities in 1927 (Jeanneney, 1989, p. 3). Many contemporaries shared de Gaulle’s opinion on this issue. French newspapers’ partisanship acted like a deforming prism on reality. They also lacked the news-gathering services and the reportorial tradition of their Anglo-American counterparts (Chalaby, 1996). De Gaulle’s main pretext for establishing the presidency was to create an institution ‘above’ and ‘beyond’ political parties that could remedy the main weaknesses of the French parliamentary system: instability and clientelism (see the Bayeux speech, 16 June 1946, in de Gaulle, 1970c, pp. 5–11; the 31 January 1964 press conference, in de Gaulle, 1970e, pp. 163–9; 1971a, pp. 247–52). De Gaulle, 1954, p. 35; 1959, pp. 53, 285–91; 1970a, pp. 9–13; 1971a, p. 239.

4 The State Radio and Television during the Fourth Republic 1 The penetration of television sets in French households lagged behind that of Great Britain and the United States. By 1956, two out of three American households, and one out of three British households, were equipped with a television set. The television signal covered only 50 per cent of the French population in 1957, as compared to 97 per cent in Great Britain (Michel, 1995, p. 25). 2 Additional sources on dramas: Thibau, 1970, pp. 81–3, 91–2; Missika and Wolton, 1983, pp. 29–36; Brochand, 1994, pp. 393–4, 397–9; Michel, 1995, pp. 35–6. Producers’ own writings include: Prat, 1961; Lorenzi, 1968.

224 Notes

5 The National Broadcaster during the de Gaulle Presidency 1 Alain Peyrefitte was born on 26 August 1925. He was an alumnus of the Ecole normale supérieure and the Ecole nationale d’administration and was first elected deputy for the Gaullist Party in 1958. He began his ministerial career in April 1962 and kept the post of Minister of Information until January 1966, with a short interruption at the end of 1962. He occupied several other ministerial positions intermittently until May 1981. He was elected to the Académie française and became the editor-in-chief of Le Figaro in 1977. He was elected senator in 1996 and died on 27 November 1999. 2 Mismanagement at the national broadcaster was an issue that official reports have underscored since the late 1940s and for which the government could not be held solely responsible. The management difficulties were compounded by corporatism, which was rife at the state broadcasting organization. Unions representing various trades from technicians to journalists and producers frequently clashed over questions of status. They also fought tooth and nail to secure all sorts of benefits, ranging from pay rates to working conditions. Grievances and conflicts provoked strikes that paralysed the state broadcaster for days and sometimes weeks. Corporatism and constant bickering generated a tense atmosphere and uncooperative behaviour from staff, which only added to the administrative difficulties. Furthermore, rampant cronyism produced a plethora of personnel, making the state broadcaster overstaffed by a third, according to the most conservative estimates. An RTF department, the TV licensing fee office, had an 800-strong workforce when the Finance Ministry had proposed doing it for free (Montaldo, 1974, p. 206). Hence the Kafkaesque situations, the tales of reporters missing assignments because of lengthy clearance procedures and of drama productions abandoned after hitting unsurpassable organizational problems. Since the Fourth Republic, successive governments have periodically attempted to alleviate the state broadcaster of its management problems but they remained unable to curtail the unions’ influence and check corporatism. Jean Montaldo speculates that a trade-off took place between the government and the state broadcaster’s leading unions. In exchange of the government’s benevolence and protection, notably against parliamentary enquiries, the unions would have bowed to governmental control over programming (Montaldo, 1974). 3 The number of ORTF journalists increased from 493 to 698 between 1963 and 1969 (Bourdon, 1990, p. 305). 4 A note on the sources cited in this section: Frédéric is an alias for a group of ORTF journalists; Christine Manigand and Isabelle Veyrat-Masson are two social scientists; André Astoux was ORTF Deputy Director General from 1964 to 1968; Roger Louis was a television producer and director; Jean-Pierre Filiu is an historian; Yves Guéna was appointed Minister of

Notes 225

Information on 31 May 1968, as a replacement for Georges Gorse; Manel and Planel are two journalists; Jacques Foccart was de Gaulle’s closest political adviser. 5 Jacques Foccart later confirmed that de Gaulle’s access to television was never threatened by strikers, despite allegations to the contrary (Foccart, 1998, pp. 150–1). 6 Jean-Pierre Filiu writes: ‘The intransigence of the President of the Republic regarding the ORTF is constant and prevents any rapid settlement of the crisis’ (Filiu, 1984, p. 210).

6 1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

The ORTF as State Broadcaster In December 1963, as de Gaulle was inaugurating the new broadcasting house at Quai Kennedy, he told Peyrefitte: ‘Naturally, you will live here’ (in Peyrefitte, 1997, p. 170). Plans had been drawn up to this effect, but Peyrefitte preferred to keep the Ministry of Information separate from the ORTF. ‘Direct’ phone lines were exclusively for governmental use. They were not connected to the telephone network and bypassed the general switchboard. Jacques Leprette, the first director of the SLII, also recollects that he was continually disturbed, at home and at the office, by calls from personalities complaining about a particular programme or demanding to add or delete a passage on the news bulletin (interview, 11 May 1999). Further illustrating this mind-set is Yves Guéna, who had a brief spell at the Ministry of Information (see Chapter 5). He writes that if ‘journalists were given the leisure to select and slant information’, it would be an ‘archetype of applied anarchy’ (Guéna, 1970, p. 69). In de Gaulle’s lexicon, English words usually have a negative connotation. In this citation, ‘lobbies’ is in English in the original and underscores the president’s disdain. Jacques Sallebert was appointed head of the news bulletin in 1959 and resigned from his position after three months, feeling that he was the ‘prisoner of an administrative machine’ (Sallebert, 1975, p. 177). The following analysis is based on approximately 30 hours of audiovisual archives, made available by the Institut National de l’Audiovisuel, Paris. The audiovisual documents available for the de Gaulle era, mostly abstracts from news bulletins and documentaries, are too sparse and unevenly distributed in time to allow a detailed and long-range content analysis. It was not the first time that the national broadcaster failed to report on a major demonstration. 10 000 students marched through the Latin Quarter in 1963, and while it made the headlines of the Parisian press, the RTF added brief comments over a still picture (Diwo, 1976, p. 63). There are many other instances of a committed bias toward the government cause. In July 1961, as a sudden conflict broke out between the

226 Notes

10

French and Tunisian armed forces in North Africa, RTF journalists were working under the following guidelines from the Director of Information: ‘A journalist must be a French journalist before being an objective journalist’ (Bernard, 1961, p. 67). This feeling was shared by many political observers: The opening of the electoral campaign on television on 19 November was a true bombshell for viewers. For seven years, the same faces, the same comments and the same self-satisfaction invaded the screens. Suddenly, almost complete strangers appear and say that all is not for the best and that there are alternatives. For many citizens, the electoral campaign on radio and television is a revelation (L’Année politique, économique, sociale et diplomatique en France, 1965, p. 98; see also Viansson-Ponté, 1971, pp. 183–4).

11

12

13

According to many newspapers, including Les Echos, a financial daily that usually stayed clear of controversy, numerous programmes during the period were tainted by heavy propaganda in favour of the de Gaulle bid. Broadcasts praised the government, acclaimed its achievements and engaged in direct electioneering (Les Echos, 13 October 1965, L’Aurore, 15 October 1965, Combat, 13 November 1965). This was unwittingly confirmed by Alain Peyrefitte who claimed that Faure’s party was granted eight minutes of airtime in 1962, but this figure includes the seven-minute party political broadcast for the legislative elections of November (J.O. Assemblée nationale, 28 May 1964, p. 1461). Some television appearances were also tampered with. As broadcast journalist Maurice Séveno recalls: It was during the editing that the trick was done. By carefully selecting stammered passages, by cutting excerpts in the middle of a sentence – which has for effect to make the speech unintelligible, by picking a trivial citation, one can discredit a speaker and the opinions he advocates (Séveno, 1969, p. 35).

14

15 16

When reporter Frédéric Pottecher suggested a news story on the abduction of Ben Barka, an affair that arose immense public interest in 1965, an ORTF director allegedly rejected his proposal on the grounds that the topic was not important enough (Manel and Planel, 1968, p. 16). It was one of these bans that sparkled the strike at the ORTF in May 1968, see Section 5.4. Two news-magazine producers claimed that they had received ‘thousands of letters’ from young people asking them to address the issue of sexual problems (Télé 7 Jours, 13 January 1966, p. 45). Women’s organizations were already pressing for reproductive health rights without succeeding in bringing the issue to the fore.

Notes 227

17

French legal experts concurred that broadcasting organizations in most West European countries were more independent from government than was the ORTF (see Pigé, 1970a, b, c).

7

De Gaulle’s Communications Strategy

1

The broadcast appearances of Cabinet members stand in contrast with those of the president. Television footage shows them speaking ostensibly with the pedantic and monotonous tone of voice affected by many French high-ranking civil servants and alumni of elite schools. This address was also delivered three weeks after de Gaulle had been the target of an assassination attempt by the OAS at Pont-sur-Seine, on 8 September 1961. For instance, when Peyrefitte told de Gaulle that Lecanuet had successfully introduced himself to television audiences, he replied sarcastically: ‘Do you really want me to proclaim in front of the cameras: “My name is Charles de Gaulle”?’ (in Peyrefitte, 1997, p. 603). De Gaulle refrained from public criticisms of the other candidates, even though he had an abysmal opinion of François Mitterrand. He firmly rejected proposals from his Minister of the Interior to release information on Mitterrand’s relationship with Bousquet (Vichy’s police chief during the Second World War), and to publish a picture of Mitterrand shaking hands with Maréchal Pétain (Peyrefitte, 1997, pp. 601–3). He predicted Mitterrand would win 4.5 million votes, while the leftwing candidate got 7.7 million votes, and Lecanuet at 2 million votes, against a result of 3.8 million (Foccart, 1997, p. 272). De Gaulle obtained 10.4 million votes (43.7 per cent), Mitterrand 7.7 million votes (32.2 per cent) and Lecanuet 3.8 million votes (15.8 per cent). For an analysis of the results, see Goguel, 1966. They were broadcast on the evenings of 13, 14 and 15 December. He acted in a way similar to the American presidential candidates who ran for office in the first part of the nineteenth century, when it was still taboo to actively campaign for the presidency (Troy, 1991).

2

3

4

5

6

7 8

8

One State, One Nation, One Television

1 Statism is defined here as follows: ‘the system of thought and the ensemble of actions and decisions that aim at reinforcing the political, legal and symbolic means placed at the disposal of the state in order to strengthen its role and influence in the social and economic life of the nation’. 2 Notwithstanding the fact that in the aftermath of the Second World War there was a large consensus in the political class to give the state a central role in rebuilding the country, these measures fully reflected de Gaulle’s innermost ideological preferences. He began to justify these nationalizations during the war, notably in a lecture given at the National Defence

228 Notes

3

4

5

6

Public Interest Committee in April 1942, and in a public address at the Royal Albert Hall, London, two months later (de Gaulle, 1970b, pp. 176–81, 197–204; see also de Gaulle, 1959, p. 329). The bias of the electoral system can be illustrated with the legislative elections in November 1962. At the second round of the legislative elections, on 25 November, the Gaullist party (UNR) obtained 198 seats, and their allies 133 seats. Under a proportional representation system, and with the same amount of votes, the Gaullists would have got 82 seats and their allies 94. The Left, including the Communists, obtained 77 seats, instead of the 221 deputies they would have obtained under proportional representation. A Gaullist candidate needed on average 19 000 votes to get elected, a candidate from a centre-right party 46 000 cast votes, a centreleft candidate 76 000 votes, a Socialist 79 000 votes and a Communist 380 000 votes (Viansson-Ponté, 1970, p. 79). For instance, Michel Debré, Prime Minister until 1962, stated that ‘a Radio and a Television that would not give men and women who live in democracy a sense of their responsibility towards the collective fate of France would fail its mission’ (in La Nef, 1966, p. 153). A reader complained that he did not buy a TV set to get back to school, and another pleaded to television directors to make him forget his working day (Télé 7 Jours, 10 April 1965, 30 October 1965). See Bonnefous, 1963, 1968; Lecanuet, 1964; Soulié, 1964. Centrists Jacques Duhamel, Edgar Faure, and Jean Lecanuet, Socialists François Mitterrand and Guy Mollet, and Communist Waldeck Rochet, among other opposition leaders, expressed their views on the national broadcaster in La Nef, 27, May–July 1966, pp. 152–61.

9 Reason of State and Public Communications: de Gaulle in Context 1 De Gaulle paid tribute to Richelieu’s statesmanship in two of his early books. In Le Fil de l’Epée, the French Army captain admires Richelieu’s ability to ‘restore royal authority’. In La France et son Armée, published six years later in 1938, he acknowledges that ‘Richelieu and Mazarin have cut the last branches of the tree of feudal independence’ (in Dulaut, 1990, p. 4; de Gaulle, 1938, pp. 58–9). 2 This measure suppressed newspapers but created few in the departments hitherto without one. It facilitated governmental control as these papers were formally put under the authority of the prefects (Welschinger, 1887, pp. 105–10). 3 Johnson gave his own count of his meetings with the press at his 39th press conference, on 20 March 1965: ‘18 off the record, 18 press conferences with adequate advance notice, 16 covered by radio and TV, 8 live TV, 9 informal lengthy walks with the White House press corps […] 9 other occasions with the press ranging from a barbecue at the Ranch to an AP luncheon to the gridiron dinner’ (in Goodwin, 1978, p. iii).

Notes 229

4 De Gaulle decided to broadcast live the first press conference he gave at the Elysée, on 25 March 1959. 5 During his official visit to the United States in April 1960, de Gaulle shared his thoughts with Nixon about the press. When he remarked that the warm reception he received at the Congress contrasted with the hostility of the American press, the vice-president asked him how he explained the difference. De Gaulle replied: ‘Many professionals of the press and politics do not conceive public duty without deceit and denials and only perceive tricks in my frankness and sincerity’ (de Gaulle, 1970a, p. 258). 6 The first academic studies that tried to establish who controlled the news agenda between journalists and politicians began to be published in the United States in the early 1970s (McCombs and Shaw, 1972; McCombs, Einsiedel and Weaver, 1991). Such research would have been incongruous in France, as politicians’ influence on the public agenda was all too apparent.


References Interviews Georges Bortoli, journalist, RTF/ORTF, 18 May 1999. Michel Denieul, Director, SLII, January 1968–May 1968; 6 May 1999. Jacques Leprette, Director, SLII, July 1963–January 1966; 11 May 1999. Alain Peyrefitte, Minister of Information, April–September 1962 and December 1962–January 1966; 4 May 1999.

Daily newspapers L’Aurore, Combat, La Croix, Le Dauphiné Libéré (Grenoble), La Dépêche du Midi (Toulouse), L’Est Républicain (Nancy), Le Figaro, France-Soir, L’Humanité, Libération, La Montagne (Clermont-Ferrand), Le Monde, Nice-Matin, La Nouvelle République (Tours), Ouest-France (Rennes), Paris-Jour, Paris-Presse, Le Parisien Libéré, Le Progrès (Lyon), Le Républicain Lorrain (Metz), Sud-Ouest (Bordeaux), La Voix du Nord (Lille).

Periodicals L’Année politique, économique, sociale et diplomatique en France; Bulletin du comité d’histoire de la télévision; Les Cahiers de la télévision; Le Canard Enchaîné; La Correspondance de la presse; Espoir; Esprit; L’Express; FranceObservateur/Le Nouvel Observateur; Le Monde Diplomatique; La Nef; La Pensée; Presse-Actualité; Télé 7 Jours; Témoignage Chrétien; Les Temps Modernes.

Books, articles and official reports Ajchenbaum, Y.-M. (1994) A la vie, à la mort: L’Histoire du journal Combat, 1941–1974, Paris: Le Monde-Editions. Albert, P. (1983) La Presse française, Paris: La Documentation française. Albert, P. (1989) Les Ordonnances de 1944 sur la presse, Espoir, 66, 17–21. Albert, P. (1992) La Presse française et Charles de Gaulle avant juin 1940, Espoir, 89, 27–31. Althusser, L. (1970) Idéologie et appareils idéologiques d’Etat: notes pour une recherche, La Pensée, 151 (June), 3–38. Althusser, L. (1984) Essays on Ideology, London: Verso. Arven, L. (1983) Le Nouvel Observateur, Presse-Actualité, 171 (March), 20–7. Astoux, A. (1978) Ondes de choc, Paris: Plon. 231

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Index L’Action française, 81, 223 n.14 Agence France-Presse (AFP), 5, 6, 97 Albert, Pierre, 81 Althusser, Louis, 57–8 Altschuler, Georges, 11 Amaury, Emilien, 16, 20, 66–7 Aragon, Louis, 100 Arcy, Jean d’, 86, 184, 213 Arguments, 55 Aron, Raymond, 11, 19, 30, 35, 51, 142 Astier de la Vigerie, Emmanuel d’, 40 Astoux, André, 120, 224 n.4 L’Aurore, 10, 11, 19 political opinion of, 24–6, 26, 65, 66

Bourdieu, Pierre, 57, 185 bourgeoisie, 31, 75 Bresson, Jean-Jacques de, 117, 124, 211 Brisson, Pierre, 12, 30 British Broadcasting Corporation, 96, 147, 148, 164, 165 broadcasting laws, during Fourth Republic, 86–7 1959 reform, 94–6 1964 reform, 96–104 broadcasting reforms, see broadcasting laws Camus, Albert, 11 Le Canard Enchaîné, 53–5, 66 Catholic Church, 29, 35 Cazeneuve, Jean, 104 censorship during de Gaulle presidency, 126–34 during Fourth Republic, 89–90 under Napoléon, 194–6 under Richelieu, 191 self-censorship, 126, 133–4 Chaban–Delmas, Jacques, 145 Charbonnel, Jean, 33 Charpy, Pierre, 40 Chavanon, Christian, 94, 124, 133, 211 Clarté, 55 Clavel, Maurice, 30–1 Combat, 10, 11, 19 political opinion of, 25, 26, 28, 65, 66 The Communist Party, 13, 29, 34, 106 and the national broadcaster, 90–1, 99, 102, 145 press opinion on, 23–68

Ballanger, Robert, 106 Barbier, Michel, 128 Barma, Claude, 86 Barthes, Roland, 55, 57 Bassi, Michel, 31 Bataille, Georges, 55 Beauvoir, Simone de, 56–7 see also Les Temps Modernes Beckett, Samuel, 100 Béguin, Ferdinand, 20 Ben Barka, Mehdi, 74, 226 n.14 Bernanos, Georges, 11 Beuve-Méry, Hubert, 14–15, 19, 78, 158, 222 n.22 political opinion of, 35–8 see also Le Monde Biasini, Emile, 115, 119, 120, 213 Bluwal, Marcel, 86 Bony, Robert, 24–5 Bordaz, Robert, 185, 211 Bourdet, Claude, 50 243

244 Index

Confédération générale du travail (CGT), 7, 95, 117–18 Contamine, Claude, 105, 124, 213 Corval, Pierre, 90 Courtin, René, 14 Couve de Murville, Maurice, 33 Critique, 55, 57 La Croix, 10, 11, 17, 19, 20 political opinion of, 26, 28–30, 66 Cronkite, Walter, 205 Crozier, Michel, 51 Daniel, Jean, 50 Dassault, Marcel, 8 Le Dauphiné Libéré, 17, 18, 66 political opinion of, 42–3, 44 Debré, Michel, 131, 145, 228 n.4 Décout, Robert, 48 Defferre, Gaston, 50, 51, 52–3, 64, 142–3 De Gaulle, Charles broadcast addresses, 151–7, 161–2, 167, 170–1 broadcasting policy, 177–88 broadcast interviews, 151–2, 157–8, 161–2 and broadcast news, 136–40, 183 and charisma, 167–71 communications strategy, 151–76, 196–7, 203–5; origins of, 163–76 and the crisis of May–June 1968, 120–1 and La Croix, 11 and Dwight D. Eisenhower, 198–9, 201 and Le Figaro, 75 and intellectuals, 57–9 and Lyndon B. Johnson, 198–205 and John F. Kennedy, 198–201, 203–5 and Gustave Le Bon, 173–6 and Stellio Lorenzi, 105, 184 and François Mitterrand, 227 n.4 and Le Monde, 14–15, 75–6, 79–80 and Napoléon, 193–7

and the national broadcaster, 90, 94, 97–101, 103, 131, 132–3, 136–40, 145 and Richard Nixon, 198–205, 229 n.6 and peripheral radio stations, 178 and Alain Peyrefitte, 77–8, 97–9, 105, 125, 161, 225 n.1 and the 1965 presidential election, 144, 160–3 press conferences, 73–4, 151–2, 158–60, 169, 198–203 press interviews, 78 press opinion on, 23–68; Parisbased titles: L’Aurore, 24–6, 65, Combat, 25, 26, 28, 65, La Croix, 26, 28–30, Le Figaro, 26, 30–2, France-Soir, 26, 32–4, 66–7, L’Humanité, 26, 34, Libération, 27, 34–5, Le Monde, 27, 35–8, 66, Paris-Jour, 27, 38–9, 66–7, Paris-Presse, 27, 39–40, 66–7, Le Parisien Libéré, 27, 40–2, 66–7, provincial titles: Le Dauphiné Libéré, 42–3, 44, 66, Ouest-France, 43, 45, 46, Le Progrès, 45, 46–7, 66, La Voix du Nord, 45, 47–9, Le Républicain Lorrain, 45, SudOuest, 45, 66, La Dépêche du Midi, 44, L’Est Républicain, 44, La Montagne, 44, Nice-Matin, 44, La Nouvelle République, 44; magazines: Le Canard Enchaîné, 53–4, L’Express, 51–3, Le Figaro Littéraire, 55, Jours de France, 55, Le Monde Diplomatique, 55, Le Nouveau Candide, 55, Le Nouvel Observateur, 49–51, Paris-Match, 55, Témoignage Chrétien, 55; reviews: Esprit, 56, Les Temps Modernes, 56–7. relationship with journalists, 67, 77–80, 223 n.13; relationship with Hubert Beuve-Méry, 79–80

Index 245

and Richelieu, 189–3, 228 n.1 and Le Temps, 14 and vested interests, 70, 73, 178, 190–1, 197 views on the press and journalists, 69–82, 176; memoirs, 69–73, 81; public comments, 73–5; private conversations, 75–6; origins of, 80–2 De Gaulle, Pierre, 15 Del Duca, Cino, 15, 20, 66 Denieul, Michel, 128 La Dépêche du Midi, 18, political opinion of, 44, 64 Derogy, Jacques, 53 Desmarest, Pierre, 195 Diligent, André, 96, 103, 109–10 Domenach, Jean-Marie, 56 Droit, Michel, 157 Duclos, Jacques, 105, 145 Dumas, Roland, 109 Dupont, Jacques-Bernard, 119, 211 Duras, Marguerite, 100 Duverger, Maurice, 19, 35, 36, 51, 218 n.17 L’Echo de Paris, 81 Eisenhower, Dwight D., 198–9, 201 En direct, 130 Esprit, 55, 56 L’Est Républicain, 18, 44 Europe 1, 177–8 L’Express, 49 political opinion of, 51–3, 66 Face à Face, 130 Faizant, Jacques, 31–2, 40 Faure, Maurice, 106, 145 Fauvet, Jacques, 36 Fédération nationale de la presse française, 5–6 Ferniot, Jean, 78 Le Figaro, 10, 12, 19, 20, 75–6, 80 political opinion of, 26, 30–2, 66 Le Figaro Littéraire, 55 Foccart, Jacques, 121, 132, 161, 224 n.4, 225 n.5

Foucault, Michel, 55, 57 Fouché, Joseph, 194–5 France-Observateur see Le Nouvel Observateur France-Référendum, 32 France-Soir, 10, 12, 16, 17, 19, 78 political opinion of, 26, 32–4, 66–7 Frank, André, 86 Frey, Roger, 94, 127, 181, 209 Frossard, André, 30, 31, 40 Funck-Brentano, Christian, 14 Gabilly, Marcel, 31 Gabriel-Robinet, Louis, 30, 31 Gaullism, 57–9, 64, 179 see also statism The Gaullist Party, 13, 90–1, 102, 109 press opinion on, 23–68 La Gazette, 191–3 Gazier, Albert, 91 Gérin, Paul, 48, 49 Giroud, Françoise, 52 Giscard d’Estaing, Valéry, 31, 120 Gorse, Georges, 115–16, 120–1, 209 Grenier, Fernand, 99, 145 Guéna, Yves, 116, 117, 119, 120, 121, 209, 225 n.4 Hachette, 6, 16, 19, 67 Havas, 6, 8, 80 Hersant, Robert, 8, 20 Hoffmann, Stanley, 56 L’Humanité, 7, 10, 12–13, 19 political opinion of, 26, 34 Hutin, Jean-Pierre, 127 Johnson, Lyndon B., 198–205 Journal des Débats, 194, 196, 223 n.14 Jours de France, 55 Kennedy, John F., 52, 198–201, 203–5 Lap, J., 53

246 Index

Lazareff, Pierre, 12, 32, 67 Lazurick, Robert, 11 Le Bon, Gustave, 173–6 Lecanuet, Jean, 28, 30–1, 132, 143–4, 146, 160, 162–3, 220 n.8 press opinion on, 24–64 Lefebre, Henri, 51 Lefort, Bernard, 38–9 Leprette, Jacques, 127–8, 225 n.3 Legislative elections, 24, 142, 144–5, 157, 219 n.6 press opinion during, 24–64 Lévi-Strauss, Claude, 57 Libération, 10, 13–14 political opinion of, 27, 34–5 Limagne, Pierre, 29 Lippmann, Walter, 223 n.13 Lorenzi, Stellio, 86, 105, 184, 185 Louis XIII, 190–2 Loursais, Claude, 86 Malraux, André, 11, 59, 94, 205, 209, 221 n.20 Marque, Henri, 40 Marx, Karl, 171–2 Mauriac, François, 101 Mendès France, Pierre, 49–50, 51–2 Merleau-Ponty, Maurice, 51 Messmer, Pierre, 33 Mitterrand, François, 49, 50, 53, 87, 107, 143–4, 145, 160, 162, 227 n.4 press opinion on, 24–64 Moisan, Roland, 53–4 Mollet, Guy, 88, 89 Le Monde, 10, 14–15, 19, 56, 75–6, 78 political opinion of, 27, 35–8, 66, 222 n.22 Le Monde Diplomatique, 55 Le Moniteur, 195 La Montagne, 18, 44 Montaldo, Jean, 224 n.2 MRP (Mouvement républicain populaire), 25, 96, 108 press opinion on, 23–68 Napoléon, 166, 168, 174, 175, 193–7

La Nation, 13 national broadcaster and broadcasting policy, 177–88 during de Gaulle presidency, 93–148, 193, 224 n.2, 207–8 during Fourth Republic, 85–92 news bulletins, 85–6, 91, 100, 125, 136–8, 144, 148 Le Nouveau Candide, 55 Nice-Matin, 18, 44 Nixon, Richard, 198–205, 229 n.6 La Nouvelle Critique, 55 La Nouvelle République, 18, 44 Nouvelles messageries de la presse parisienne (NMPP), 6, 8 Le Nouvel Observateur, 49 political opinion of, 49–51, 66 Office de radiodiffusion-télévision française (ORTF) see national broadcaster Ollivier, Albert, 124, 184–5, 213 Opinion polls, 220 n.10, 221 n.21 Ormesson, Wladimir d’, 101 Ouest-France, 17, 18, 45 political opinion of, 43, 45, 46 Panorama, 111 Le Parisien Libéré, 10, 16, 17, 19, 20 political opinion of, 27, 40–2, 66–7 Paris-Jour, 10, 15, 19, 20 political opinion of, 27, 38–9, 66–7 Paris-Match, 20, 55 Paris-Presse, 10, 16, 19, 66–7 political opinion of, 27, 39–40, 66–7 Passeron, André, 37 La Pensée, 55, 57–8 Peripheral radio stations, 177–8 Pérol, Gilbert, 77 Pétain, Philippe, 164 Peyrefitte, Alain, 96–104, 107, 124, 130, 142–3, 181, 207, 209, 224 n.1, 226 n.12 and Charles de Gaulle, 77–8, 97–9, 105, 125, 161, 225 n.1

Index 247

Poher, Alain, 31, 51 Pompidou, Georges, 41, 67, 98, 141, 145, 187 Poncet, André-François, 30, 31 Le Populaire, 13 Poulantzas, Nicos, 57–8 presidency, 20–2, 171–3, 179, 218 n.17, 223 n.16 1965 presidential election, 21, 143, 156, 160–3, 219 n.4, 227 n.6 press opinion during, 24–64 press, the and advertising, 5, 6 British newspapers, 69, 217 n.16 circulation, 9–10, 16–18 and corruption, 4, 14, 80–1 and market forces, 5, 7–8 opinion, 23–68; and voting patterns, 63–4, 65 1944 ordinances, 3–5, 11, 14 ownership, 19–20 Paris-based newspapers, 10–16, 17–19 popular newspapers, 66–8, 174–5 and the presidency, 20–2 provincial newspapers, 16–18 and state aid, 6–8 and television, 20–2 Preuves, 55 Le Progrès, 17, 18 political opinion of, 45, 46–7, 66, 222 n.22 and the notables, 66 Le Provençal, 64 Prouvost, Jean, 20 Radiodiffusion-télévision française (RTF) see national broadcaster Radio-Luxembourg, 177–8 Radio Monte-Carlo, 177–8 Ramadier, Paul, 90, 98 Rather, Dan, 202 Referenda, 24, 71, 154–5, 156, 171, 219 n.5 press opinion during, 23–68

Renaudot, Théophraste, 191–2 Le Républicain Lorrain, 18, 45 Ribaud, André, 53 Richard, Serge, 53 Richelieu, 168, 189–93, 197, 228 n.1 Rocard, Michel, 49, 50, 51 Roosevelt, Franklin D., 198 Sabbagh, Pierre, 120, 153, 213 Sablier, Edouard, 119, 128 Safire, William, 204 Salinger, Pierre, 201, 203–4 Sallebert, Jacques, 90, 126–7, 225 n.6 Sanguinetti, Alexandre, 33 Santelli, Claude, 185 Sartre, Jean-Paul, 11, 50, 51, 52, 56–7, 105 see also Les Temps Modernes Schoenbrunn, David, 97 Servan-Schreiber, Jean-Jacques, 51–3, 142, 220–1 n.15 Service de liaison interministérielle pour l’information (SLII), 21, 103, 126–8, 141 Smadja, Henry, 11 The Socialist Party, 13, 51, 64, 66, 106, 107, 108, 109 press opinion on, 23–68 Société nationale des enterprises de presse (SNEP), 4 Société professionnelle des papiers de presse (SPPP), 6, 8 Soustelle, Jacques, 15, 94, 209 State broadcasting monopoly, 94–5, 177–80, 193 Statism, 58, 177–80, 207–8, 227 n.1 Stibio, André, 48 structuralism, 57–9 Sud-Ouest, 17, 18, 66 political opinion of, 45, 64 Suffert, Georges, 53 symbolic violence, 169, 180 Teitgen, Pierre-Henri, 14 Télé 7 Jours, 20, 104, 186

248 Index

Tel Quel, 55, 57 Témoignage Chrétien, 55, 66 Le Temps, 14, 80, 81 Les Temps Modernes, 55, 56–7, 58 Terrenoire, Louis, 124, 209 Tesson, Philippe, 28 Thibau, Jacques, 124, 129, 130, 185 Thorez, Maurice, 145 Touraine, Alain, 51 Tournoux, J.-R., 46–7 Truman, Harry S., 198, 199

Viansson-Ponté, Pierre, 35, 37, 38 La Voix du Nord, 17, 18 political opinion of, 45, 47–9 Wenger, Antoine, 220 n.9 Wilson, Harold, 147 Younger, Kenneth, 90 Zoom, 130–1

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