A Savage War of Peace: Algeria 1954-1962 (31 page)

For the coming year France would contribute 80 milliard francs ($200 million) to the Algerian budget — a forty per cent increase over the previous year — to improve standards of living. Better educational opportunities were offered the Muslims through lowering school entry age by five years. Politically, however, Lacoste’s most striking innovation was to decree that fifty per cent of all vacancies in public service should be reserved for Muslims. Ten years previously it would have been hailed by them as a generous and progressive move; but now it seemed tardy, introduced only under F.L.N. pressure, and a hasty improvisation that rather floated in mid-air in that it remained unsupported by what would have appeared as the essential concomitant of equal citizenship rights. Next, Lacoste completed abolition of the
communes mixtes
as a first step towards fulfilment of Mollet’s somewhat vague and unspecified promise to the Muslims, in his speech of 16 February, “to hold free elections at the earliest possible moment”. This also poised the axe over the entire
caid
system which, as a whole, had come to be one of the most hated features of the
présence française
. Many
caids
had been corrupt and archaic in their administration; on the other hand, perhaps equally as many had served both Algeria and France honestly and loyally, and now courageously. Since 1954 the corps of
caids
had lost twenty-seven dead, four missing and presumed dead, and nineteen wounded. The “good”
caids
were resentful of what they felt to be France’s shoddy treatment of them, and one remarked pointedly: “Since France rejects us, she had better not count on us any longer.” Poor France; how many of her best-intentioned reforms would end by losing as much as they gained! Another questionable measure, and disheartening to the “moderate” Muslim representatives, was Lacoste’s dissolution of the Algerian Assembly on 11 April 1956. Because of the obstructionism of both European “ultras” and Muslims, there were good reasons for this move; yet it conflicted abrasively with intents expressed by Mollet and the French Socialist Party to increase, not decrease, electoral freedom in Algeria.

Administratively, Lacoste launched a sweeping reorganisation of Algeria by creating eight new departments, so that, from its original total of three, the country now possessed twelve, giving it a correspondingly greater influence in metropolitan councils. This was a wholly beneficial move, forming a preliminary to what Lacoste considered to be his (alas, never completed) masterpiece, the
loi-cadre
, or draft law. Not adopted by the French legislature until 31 January 1958, the
loi-cadre
aimed at a political solution that looked like a mixture of federalism and partition. Algeria was to be divided into several self-governing territories, with a common electoral roll, and each responsible to an elected national assembly under the sovereignty of France. The concept drew forth vigorous opposition from many, including Chevallier and Soustelle, the latter condemning it as “hastily creating an organisation that would confer upon Algeria certain characteristics of a veritable state”. In contrast to Mollet, Lacoste soon showed, however, that he would not bow either to criticism or to mob pressure. On 8 May 1956 — the explosive anniversary of Sétif and V.E. Day — there was a victory parade in Algiers which right-wing European students attempted to turn into a demonstration against Lacoste’s policy. But, encountering a combination of contempt and resolute force, it simply collapsed. While his forceful technique gained him respect, it also brought Lacoste — often short on diplomatic graces — a number of opponents. Perhaps the most unfortunate consequence was his poor personal relationship with Jacques Chevallier, which thereby diminished his contacts with the “third force” Europeans. As it was, however, Lacoste’s cherished
loi-cadre
was to be swept away by events in France.

Secret negotiations with the F.L.N.

Early in his appointment to Algiers Lacoste remarked optimistically: “Though I promise no miracles, I have a reasonable hope that by the end of the summer law and order will reign in Algeria.” But by that summer external events beyond Lacoste’s control were already beginning to move towards the year’s powerful climax. In March, soon after Mollet’s coming to power, he had sent on a mission to Cairo, his Foreign Minister, Christian Pineau, who through Nasser had put out feelers for “conversations” with the F.L.N. These had been taken up, and the following month a first meeting took place, also in Cairo, between Mohamed Khider and a secret emissary of Mollet’s, each acting with the utmost reserve and in fear of being accused of “selling-out” by their compatriots. This led, however, to a further series of talks about talks (much against the better judgement of Lacoste), five of which took place during the course of 1956, ranging from Cairo to Belgrade to Rome, and all held in the utmost secrecy. The Mollet government offered to facilitate a free entry into Algeria for Ben Bella for the purpose of negotiations, and at the final meeting in Rome in September a further rendezvous was made for the end of October; at which time a public declaration was to be drafted for signature by Mollet and the C.C.E. announcing their intent to launch full-scale peace negotiations. To this day there is disagreement as to how serious were the prospects held by the 1956 peace feelers. Ben Bella claims to have believed “that peace was within reach”; Mollet, on the other hand, remains sceptical, stating in an interview with the author “Even if Ben Bella had not been sequestrated, I doubt whether things would have turned out very differently; because the F.L.N. never accepted our basic thesis that there should be, first of all, a cease-fire.”

No one will ever know.

Autumn of madness: Suez nationalised and the Athos

On 13 June the last British soldier quit the Suez Canal Zone; six weeks later Nasser shook the world by nationalising the canal. For the next months the wires between London, Paris and Washington began to hum as Western statesmen debated how to deal with the Egyptian leader and his arbitrary action. At the far end of the Mediterranean from Algeria, Ben Gurion’s tiny infant state of Israel began to feel in jeopardy. Through the long summer the temperature steadily rose, with Britain and France beginning to make tentative, fumbling and long-drawn-out preparations for a military intervention over Suez. Already by 9 August, General André Beaufre at his headquarters in Constantine East had received orders to command a contingency “Force A” ready for operating against Egypt. Then, on 16 October, an event occurred that would significantly harden French policy. French naval and air interception services, which by this time had attained a high state of efficiency in picking up maritime gunrunners, had been tracking a ship called the
Athos
on its suspiciously zigzag course round the Mediterranean. On 14 October it was reported heading for the Moroccan coast, and two days later it was stopped and boarded by a French escort vessel.

Though sailing under a Sudanese flag, with a Greek captain, the
Athos
was revealed to be carrying over seventy tons of arms and ammunition — all loaded in Alexandria and purchased with Egyptian money. The inventory read as follows:

72 mortars

40 machine-guns

74 automatic rifles

240 sub-machine-guns

2,300 rifles

2,000 mortar shells

600,000 cartridges

An insignificant cargo, perhaps, in terms of a major war, but its value to the F.L.N. can be appreciated when it is recorded that, up to that date, it possessed no more than twenty mortars and ten machine-guns throughout the country. The
Athos
cargo represented the biggest arms shipment yet to the F.L.N.; by far the greatest significance attached to it, however, was that it was the first major Egyptian arms delivery to the F.L.N. — the fruit of the months of badgering by Ben Bella and his colleagues. The weapons were believed to be intended for the opening up (on 1 November, the second anniversary of the war) of a new front in the hitherto peaceful area to the west of Oran. In the mind of the astute Nasser, this was to serve an additional tactical purpose by distracting the French, who were by now making very threatening noises about Suez.

In the heated atmosphere prevailing in Paris, the
Athos
episode caused a considerable impact. Here, at last, was conclusive evidence to confirm the long-cherished beliefs that the hub of the revolution lay in Cairo, and that Ben Bella was its lynch-pin. At the time of the seizure of the
Athos
, Ben Bella was on his way to Morocco to arrange the reception and distribution of its arms. Deeply chagrined by the news of the Soummam Conference and its decisions taken in his absence, he was intending to reject these (especially the primacy of the “interior” over the “exterior”), and to launch a political counter-offensive to re-establish his own personal pre-eminence. To this end he planned to fly from Morocco to Tunis, to convene there, on 22 or 23 October, his own “summit conference” of the three Maghreb powers. There they would discuss both the future conduct of the war and the furtherance of the peace initiatives then under way secretly with Mollet’s representatives. With both Tunisian and Moroccan leaders disposed towards a negotiated compromise peace at this time, there seemed a reasonable prospect of success for Ben Bella’s initiative. Originally Ben Bella and his party were to have flown from Rabat in the personal plane of the King of Morocco, but at the last minute the palace announced that there would be insufficient room on the King’s plane and that another — a D.C.3 belonging to Air Maroc, with a French crew — would be at their disposal. According to Ben Bella subsequently, the change of plan caused him indefinable misgivings; nevertheless, he and the rest of the “external” delegation — Boudiaf, Khider, Ait Ahmed — plus an Algerian professor working for the F.L.N. called Mostefa Lacheraf, embarked on the D.C.3 for Tunis. Among other passengers aboard that 22 October was a
New York Times
correspondent, Tom Brady.

Ben Bella hijacked

From Rabat a Colonel Jean Gardes tipped off Algiers that Ben Bella would no longer be flying under the protection of the King of Morocco. Somewhere along the line between Gardes and Colonel Ducournau, the first para commander to achieve distinction in the war and currently Lacoste’s chief military adviser, a spectacular coup was hatched. General Beaufre was lunching with General Lorillot when the Commander-in-Chief was called to the telephone by Ducournau and he accepted responsibility for forcing the Moroccan plane down on to Algerian soil. Lacoste was away on leave in the Dordogne, and to this day there remains some mystery as to whether the coup was in fact a first major instance of the French military acting on its own initiative, in disregard of the civil authorities, expressly with a view to torpedoing the peace negotiations; as to whether Lacoste turned a blind eye; or whether there was some degree of complicity even by the Mollet government, now deeply committed to the Suez adventure. The relevant orders are said to have been destroyed. According to Tournoux’s account, Lacoste returned to Algiers just in time to countermand the interception order, but nevertheless gave his sanction to go ahead. Subsequently, however, both Lacoste and Mollet have affirmed categorically to the author their indignation at the order given.

The D.C.3 was approaching its intermediary stop at Palma de Mallorca when the French pilot, Gellier, a reservist officer, received radio orders from Oran, in the name of the French Ministry of Defence, to put down in Algeria instead of Tunis. After some argument and referring by radio back to Air Maroc headquarters in Rabat, Gellier agreed. On leaving Palma the French air hostess, though noting with concern that Ben Bella had his revolver lodged in the seat pocket in front of him, maintained a superb poker face, chatting up the Algerians so as to distract them from detecting the plane’s change of direction, and announcing coolly as it began its descent: “
Attachez vos ceintures et cessez de fumer, s’il vous plaît. Nous atterrissons à Tunis!
” The Algerians were totally deceived. One of them, noting from afar the large number of figures on the airfield, exclaimed: “Why, they’ve organised a very handsome reception for us!” It was not until the instant of landing and recognising the French uniforms, tanks and armoured cars that packed the runway that they realised they were in Algiers, not Tunis. With no chance to resist, the five Algerians were led out by armed gendarmes to begin five and a half years of imprisonment in the Santé in Paris, then in a series of other French gaols and strongholds. Indicted for crimes punishable by death, they were given the status of political prisoners but were never brought to trial.

On hearing the news, European Algiers erupted in unprecedented delight, while at least one French radio commentator declared: “At last France has dared!” Undoubtedly, the hijacking of Ben Bella and his companions in flagrant breach of international law was a brilliant intelligence coup; but, as so often with such coups, it was to rebound badly on the originators. Mollet, according to Mendès-France who saw him that day, was in a cold fury when he heard the news. Why, then, did he not disavow the action and release the Algerians? Because, says Mollet, “I could not liberate men who were condemned under common law; my government would have fallen overnight.” And, says Lacoste, explosively: “Because Algiers would have blown up. At that moment it was like a steamboiler. … Also, the Arabs were very sensitive to force, and — there’s no doubt about it — the capture of Ben Bella did calm them for a while. …” But, says Mendès-France: “It was because, like everybody else at the time, Mollet was weak.” The international Press was overwhelmingly hostile to what was regarded as a flagrant breach of international law. The French ambassador in Tunis, Pierre de Leusse, and Mollet’s Secretary for Moroccan and Tunisian Affairs, Alain Savary, both resigned in protest. At Meknès in Morocco forty-nine French civilians were butchered in fierce anti-French riots. The King, mortified by what he took as a personal affront, and Bourguiba, who had had triumphal arches erected in honour of the Tunis “summit”, henceforth stiffened their resolve to back the Algerian war effort to the utmost. As a Tunisian spokesman told journalists at the time: “The Tunis conference, which was to have been the conference about peace in Algeria, may … turn into a war conference.”