Jacques Foccart on May 1968 - Part III

From the Elysée audio diary of Jacques Foccart

Jacques Foccart was the only person to have spoken with General de Gaulle on a daily basis during the ten years and four months of his presidential tenure. He was officially General Secretary of the Elysée for African and Malagasy affairs. He also was, unofficially, his advisor on domestic policies and in charge of relations with the Gaullist movement, and its leaders. From January 1965 until the death of Georges Pompidou in 1974, he maintained an audio diary.

Every entry was dictated by Foccart on a recorder. At the beginning of each reel, he repeated or paraphrased the following:

“I ask from those who will have the opportunity to make use of these documents later on to do it in the spirit that animates me, that is to say for historical purposes. It is possible that certain opinions on this or that man may be difficult to admit, may even be difficult, for their relatives; I will have reported them out of a duty of sincerity, and I ask that these elements never be used in a spirit of controversy or disparagement.”

All of General de Gaulle’s quotes will be rendered in italic.

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Saturday, May 11, 1968

“Jacques, get back here quick...” De Gaulle: “There really was a mistake.” Pompidou writes in his address: “This one’s mine.”

I leave at the same time as Michel Debré and Louis Joxe, who, I believe, came to chat with us all the way to the door. I didn’t realize how important this was for the press, and I went back home. I received a phone call from Michel, who was a bit annoyed by the atmosphere. Indeed, when I turned on my radio, I heard accounts of our meeting that roughly said, with a passionate tone: “The situation is getting worse. Thus, Louis Joxe hurriedly leaves the Ministry of Justice to head to Place Beauvau at the Ministry of the Interior, where an important meeting is being held around Fouchet, Debré, and Foccart. Decisions will be made,” etc. Naturally, decisions were made, but in any case, it wasn't a real meeting, it didn't have that character, and what happened was clearly distorted.

On that note, I continue listening to the news and, suddenly, as I was starting to doze off around 5:00–5:10 a.m., the phone rings. The switchboard operator says: “Mr. Fouchet is on the line,” and Fouchet says: “Jacques?” — “Yes, Christian.” — “Jacques, get back quickly to the Interior.” And he hangs up. His car came to pick me up, and I met him there. Again, the journalists saw me enter. Messmer and Joxe were there, and we reviewed the situation. Barricades were set up; the police thought there were six or seven, the radio announced fifty, and the radio was right. At 2:15 a.m., according to the Interior Minister’s instructions, the order to remove the barricades was given. The situation was serious and heated, but fortunately there were no fatalities.

The General was informed, not by me, but by Tricot, around 5:00 a.m. He asked that by 6:00 a.m., the three ministers be gathered. Fouchet was quite tense, rather pessimistic, and yet the situation seemed to be under control. Around 6:15 a.m., I said: “My friends, I think you should head to the Élysée now, but it’s important we avoid a too spectacular appearance.” Then Fouchet said: “Well, Jacques, we’ll all just walk there.” — “Are you out of your mind! Photographers will mow us down with flashbulbs while walking backwards! No, that’s not possible!” I then left as discreetly as possible with Messmer by car, and Fouchet left with Joxe.

At the Élysée, the General received only his three ministers, without me, which was normal. However, the press and even the radio distorted this, claiming we had all gone — appearances were clearly misleading — to the Élysée and that all four of us had been received by the General. In reality, the General debriefed the three ministers, reproached Fouchet for allowing a barricade to form: intervention should have occurred at the first barricade, not later. Then he reviewed the available military forces and reassured everyone. The meeting lasted about fifteen minutes.

I had a very hectic Saturday. A small psychological detail: it's silly, but because I had an appointment with my hairdresser at 8:30 a.m., I insisted on going. Then I stayed between my office and the Service d’Action Civique. I received the visit of Debré and a certain number of ministers. I returned to Solferino, where I had lunch with some guys from the Service d’Action Civique, more determined than ever, and in the afternoon, I again saw Fouchet, Debré, etc.

In the evening, contrary to what normally happens on Saturdays, I had an audience with the General: “General, I won't speak about Africa, of course. Regarding the students, I think what needed to be done has been done. Perhaps there wasn't firm enough leadership, perhaps Pompidou's absence was felt...” — “No, overall the ministers have done well, but it’s certain that Fouchet, and I told him so, should have intervened much earlier. It’s not normal, it’s not acceptable to allow a barricade to be built. I understand very well, and I myself am concerned, that we must avoid casualties. Of course, we must do everything possible in that direction. But understand very well, once something inadmissible is allowed to happen, we are no longer in control of the situation, or we are only with great difficulty. As soon as the first street was torn up, as soon as one stone was placed upon another, it was at that moment that we should have intervened, swept away the situation, held our ground, and repeated the process as often as necessary. It is certain that from the moment barricades are built, a certain mindset forms in which the demonstrators become entrenched. They create more barricades, they think they are doing great deeds, and the unfortunate ones get drawn into a psychological dynamic that is wrong. From a tactical standpoint, from the perspective of the police forces, there truly was a mistake. Fortunately, thank God, things turned out well. That said, the situation is hardly a good one. I am going to see Pompidou shortly; I really wonder if I’ll be able to leave for Romania.” I gave him my own feedback regarding the student situation. I found the General extremely calm and determined.

On that note, I saw Pompidou when he arrived at the Élysée¹. I saw him again when he left. He obtained a number of concessions in order to first play the card of appeasement, even if it meant later playing the card of security. He then made a very short television address, very short but highly impactful, very good. I admired this man’s composure and strength, as he was finishing a trip that had been very tiresome, he got out of the plane with four hours of jet lag. Out of the General’s office at 9:30 p.m., he was left on his own a little while later. At 11:30 p.m., after having written his text and having changed, he spoke to the television in a truly remarkable manner. In fact, he told me: “Don’t worry about it, this one’s mine, I have it in mind.”

Sunday, May 12, 1968

Eyadéma and his entire entourage came to have lunch at Luzarches. For me, it’s an ordeal; I almost canceled it: when you are caught up in such an atmosphere, you no longer feel like dealing with anything else. It’s absolutely incredible: personally, I feel intellectually paralyzed. Everything is focused on the action of the moment, and everything else seems so distant: the discussions with Eyadéma, Togo, etc. But in the end, I decided to maintain the lunch, and I was right to do so. The atmosphere relaxed overnight after Pompidou’s speech, and everything went remarkably well. Immediately after Eyadéma, I returned to Paris, where I stayed in my office. The events did not seem to be taking a bad turn, and that evening, nothing special happened.

Monday, May 13, 1968

How many protesters? The unions against the students. A dinner to commemorate... May 13, 1958.

I saw the General in the evening and gave him news about Bord, the Secretary of State for the Interior, who had undergone surgery for a kind of peritonitis. He is doing as well as can be expected but will be unavailable for a month. The General asked me for a few details and instructed me to send his wishes for a speedy recovery.

I also quickly mentioned the failure of the list opposing autonomy in Papeete. The General was not surprised. He then spoke to me about the demonstration that had taken place following the incidents of the previous week: a demonstration marked by a kind of unity of action between the students and the unions.

All afternoon, we remained uncertain about its scale. At first, the Ministry of the Interior — or rather the police prefecture — claimed there were between fifty and one hundred thousand people. When I saw the General, I gave him the figure of about one hundred and fifty thousand protesters, which seemed quite high to him.

We were never able to know exactly what happened.
The next day, as always, L'Humanité spoke of a million people, the police prefecture spoke of one hundred to one hundred fifty thousand, and the newspapers said three hundred thousand!
So, who can really tell how many protesters and bystanders there actually were? Lots of people were simply watching, crowded along the sidewalks.

In any case, this demonstration made a strong impression and had a significant political impact on the events that followed.

My analysis to the General that evening was as follows: the unions did not want to be overwhelmed by the student protest, which was clearly gaining strong traction among young union members. They therefore gave the order to drown out and, if possible, infiltrate the students. The aftermath proved it.

When the head of the march reached Denfert-Rochereau — while the tail had not yet even left République, and there was still an hour or two to go — the more excitable elements among the students started shouting: “To the Élysée!” Others cried: “To the Champ-de-Mars!”

I realized at that moment — though I had already sensed it before — just how important live broadcasts could be, especially from peripheral radio stations.
In fact, the reporter from Europe No. 1, always in a kind of feverish tone, announced:
”And now, the demonstrators are moving down toward the Seine, and the word spreading everywhere is ‘To the Élysée! To the Élysée!’”

I thought to myself that, since all the groups of demonstrators — even those back at République — had transistor radios, it would have taken very little for everyone to start marching toward the Élysée. We would then have seen protesters arriving at the presidential palace from all directions — from République, from Concorde, from everywhere — and they surely would have quickly overwhelmed the security forces.

So, just as the students were shouting these slogans, it was clear that the union organizers were giving the opposite instructions: “Disperse! Disperse!”
They even shut off the microphones, dismantled the loudspeakers, to short-circuit the demonstrators’ means of communication.

The demonstrators ended up going to the Champ-de-Mars, where about ten thousand of them shouted slogans for a while, then the protest dispersed.

That evening, I had a commemorative dinner: it was the tenth anniversary of May 13, 1958. The dinner took place at my home. Around the table were the eight people who had been, let’s say, the primary actors of what I do not consider at all to have been a conspiracy, but rather simply an organization put in place by those actors themselves — not to seize power, but to channel the movement, to channel the desire for change toward General de Gaulle.

Across from me sat Michel Debré, with Roger Frey to his right, and La Malène to his left. To my right, I had Guichard; to my left, Bonneval; and at the ends of the table were Lefranc and René Ribière².

The atmosphere was extremely friendly, though tinged with a certain tension due to the current events. In the end, we spoke more about the present situation than we reminisced about the past. That didn't stop us entirely from recalling memories, but we were much more focused on the present than immersed in the past.

At the table, I had brought my little transistor radio, and we followed the news — with the same interest as ten years earlier, but with a very different frame of mind.

Tuesday, May 14, 1968

To go to Romania or not. Pompidou, Fouchet, and the others

The General left the Élysée at 7:30 a.m. after a rather restless night, during which he reviewed the situation with the Prime Minister at midnight to decide whether he should depart or not. Then, seized by doubt, he summoned the Prime Minister again at 1 a.m., along with Couve de Murville and, I believe, Fouchet — and perhaps others — to reassess the situation, taking into account not only the internal events but also the possible repercussions abroad of a change in plans. In the end, he decided to leave. Thus, he left the Élysée after greeting me and thanking me for being there, always with the same gravity: ”Good morning, Foccart. Thank you for coming.” And then he departed, and I did not accompany him all the way to the airfield.

At noon, I received several African ambassadors who were clearly also concerned about the developments regarding the student crisis. Curiously, right away, the Malian ambassador brought up the issue and set the tone that was then echoed by all the others:

“Mr. Secretary-General, it’s very serious what is happening, because it is certain that we are going to experience repercussions in our own countries. Whereas France is strong enough to withstand this pressure, our states are much more fragile, and we risk facing a kind of anarchy that will spread throughout Africa — and against which we will be powerless.”

During these few days of the General's absence, my life was extremely hectic.
I often went to see Pompidou. I was in constant contact — mostly at his initiative — with Fouchet. The atmosphere was strange.

What I can say is that throughout this entire period — of which I will now try to recall the details — the Prime Minister remained extremely firm, extremely calm, and extremely consistent in his assessments.

On the other hand, a number of ministers, including Christian Fouchet, were much more prone to shifts in their judgments, experiencing moments of both optimism and pessimism — both, in fact, equally unjustified.

Wednesday, May 15, 1968

Fouchet to Foccart: “You bear a very heavy responsibility before history!”

From the very day after the General’s departure, the main discussion essentially revolves around one question: Should we make him return? The advocates for his return are Fouchet, followed by Michel Debré. This triggers countless debates. Sometimes they come to see me; sometimes I go to see them. I go as little as possible. I only went to Debré’s once because, at the same time, journalists were heavily monitoring my movements, and immediately — as soon as I was spotted somewhere — there would be a “flash” news report with the obvious goal of dramatizing the situation, to make it seem that Foccart’s presence meant a hardening of the government's stance. As Vajou³ wrote: “Foccart was seen at Matignon and it was understood,” or something to that effect. So, I either saw them discreetly or spoke with them by phone, and sometimes the exchanges took a dramatic turn, especially with Fouchet, who kept repeating to me: “The General must come back, he must come back!”

And I replied: “Absolutely not, that’s ridiculous! He must absolutely not return, first because of how the situation is evolving.” — “Ah, very well! What more do you need?” — “The evolution of the situation since his departure does not justify his return; and moreover, if he returns, we’ll face very grave consequences. First, on the international stage, he will lose face, France will lose face, and that is serious. Secondly it might be just as serious on the domestic front, because we would then find ourselves caught up in an ascending movement that nothing could stop. If the General returns in a rush, because it would inevitably be interpreted that way, he will be forced to speak very quickly, and therefore on ground he will not know well, without having been able to study the situation in depth, and with a certain resentment at having had to come back. The whole thing could be very serious.” — "Absolutely not," said Fouchet. "He won't be forced to speak. But the mere fact of his return will settle things." — "Not at all. On this point, I will not give in."

It then took dramatic proportions: "You bear a very heavy responsibility before history!" Fouchet said to me. — "I bear no responsibility. I did not tell the General not to return, and I will not tell him to return either, because that is not my view. But he is fully informed of everything that is happening, in detail; it is up to him to make his decision. It's not as if I were formally advising him not to come back. You make me laugh with your talk about responsibility before history!"

Thursday, May 16, 1968

Crisis staff at Pompidou’s. De Gaulle calls from Romania: “Serenity, calm, and strength.”

The agitation is extreme. It was already true on May 15, and it's even truer starting on the 16th, because of the occupation of the Odéon and the Sorbonne, where students are causing increasing disorder.

I see Pompidou at 11:30, and we have a long exchange of views on all of this. He tells me: “Fouchet is losing it.” Indeed, at times, Fouchet, in what he says to me and, of course, to the Prime Minister, but, I fear, to others as well, says: “Yes, the General will return on Sunday. If he can return...” I reply: “Come on, listen! Don't make me laugh! We can't prevent him from returning to France.” — “It's you who make me laugh, you don't realize.” — “And then he will speak.” — “If he can speak!” In sum, it's really of a very pessimistic nature, with doubts, and this is much more serious, about the solidity of the police.

Pompidou then tells me: “I need to clarify things for the measures to be taken. I am having a meeting at 2 p.m. Are you free for lunch?” — “No, I am busy.” — “Could you free yourself for 2 p.m.? I am bringing Fouchet here, not Messmer since he's not here, but his chief of staff: I would like to take stock, and I would really like that you be there.”

As I have a lunch with journalists, I ask them to be here at 12:30 p.m., and I can free myself in time. This lunch is rather extraordinary, as I need to be relaxed and talk about Africa. I am with specialists on African issues and, of course, at the end, we turn to current events.

At 2 p.m., this meeting takes place, and the discussion about the General's return begins. Pompidou and I are categorical. Then, a debate takes place about whether the Prime Minister should speak or not. Fouchet insists that Pompidou must speak, and that if he doesn't, it will be a catastrophe. I think it's a bit premature, and that he should speak only the next day. In the end, after much hesitation, Pompidou agrees with my view, and we decide to issue a statement. “But after all,” I say, “what's needed is not a banal statement, it's a position of the government solemnly read by the Minister of Information, who is the spokesperson for the government.” This is what is decided. After that, we look at the means for maintaining order and decide to call up the gendarmerie reserves.

Around 6 or 6:30 p.m., I am asked to return to the Prime Minister's office. I cannot go immediately, and when I arrive, around 7 or 7:15 p.m., Frey, Guichard, Fouchet, and I don't exactly remember who else are in his office. They are besieging the Prime Minister to get him to speak in the evening. I try once again to assert my point of view, then we discuss and hesitate while Pompidou writes his text. In the meantime, Juillet⁴ arrives to say that he doesn't agree either, that in his opinion, it's a bad thing. Finally, the decision having been made, I join in and no longer object. Once the Prime Minister has finished his text, he asks me: “What do you think? What's your feeling?” I say that my feeling hasn't changed: “I believe this wasn't the right thing to do, but now that it has been announced on the radio, you can't go back; you must speak. As for the General's return, we need to be careful: you must give your own point of view, otherwise you risk having interpretations made.”

At that moment, we decide to call the General on the phone, which is done around 9 p.m. In the meantime, Michel Debré and Chirac⁵ arrive. Everyone leaves Pompidou's office while he speaks to the Head of State, but he signals for me to stay. There, without a doubt, the Prime Minister perfectly presents the situation to the General, without hiding anything from him, without influencing him. On the other side, the General is extremely firm, saying that above all, there must be serenity, calm, and strength. I hear Pompidou say: “But, General, believe me, we are perfectly calm, there is no problem.” And this is true as far as Pompidou is concerned. I see the ministers who, from time to time, crack open the door and realize that the conversation isn't over. Some must think there's no reason why I should be in the room while they are not; but, well, that's how it is.

In the evening, the Prime Minister spoke, and spoke well.

Friday, May 17, 1968

I go to see Debré in his office. He is a bit worried. All day long, it has been talks and discussions with a very firm Prime Minister and an Interior Minister oscillating between serenity and some concern.

Saturday, May 18, 1968

De Gaulle is back. Towards a referendum. Pompidou.

I have lunch one-on-one with Pompidou, after which Frey, Guichard, etc, join us. The day passes without any major events. I won't discuss the evolution of the situation, as its account can be found elsewhere, but I am recounting exclusively the events as I experienced them.

In the evening, at 9:30 p.m., we leave the Élysée in a procession to go wait for the General, who has decided, without shortening his trip, to return on Saturday evening, once all his official obligations are completed, instead of Sunday morning. The plane lands at 10:30 p.m. The General is welcomed by Pompidou, Joxe, Billotte, Schumann, Marcellin, Michelet, and his house in the order of protocol⁶, along with the police prefect and the prefect of the Seine. The General looks relaxed. He says to me: “Good evening, Foccart, how are you?” I reply with a few words about the situation, and he immediately heads to the Élysée, accompanied in his car by the Prime Minister, with us following behind.

The General talks for two minutes in the vestibule with the Prime Minister, then says goodnight to us and leaves. At that moment, Pompidou confirms to me that the General, perfectly calm and composed, decided to have the matter decided by the country in the form of a referendum, but that, of course, this must absolutely not be known. He is to meet with Palewski⁷ the following day, which is Sunday.

Thus ends this tragic week, nerve-wracking, as it involves rallying people and discussing matters with various individuals. The delegations of Gaullist students themselves are caught up in an atmosphere that is almost unbelievable, but which grips everyone at their core.

It was a week in which I deeply appreciated Pompidou's calm and determination. He is truly a great man who, despite the excitations and a sometimes agitated entourage, like, for example, when we were all in his office, calmly manages — while everyone discusses, speaks, and explains their point of view — to draft his text (which he read and reread to us several times and which was very good) as if he were alone in a very quiet room. And half an hour later, he recites it impeccably on television.

He is truly a man of great capacity.

Sunday, May 19, 1968

Lessons of a week of fever and confusion.

Pompidou came to see the General at noon, and during the day, there were some comings and goings. As for me, I see Michelet and a number of ministers. The situation is extremely confused, the strike is almost total, and my analysis is as follows. For the students, there has been discontent for a long time, and the trigger came from an international organization: it is certain that the story of Cohn-Bendit⁸ and his revolutionary movement shows a desire among our country's adversaries to meddle in our affairs from within. The greatest confusion reigns because there are pro-Maoists, anarchists, and Castroists. One could say that the masses do not follow, but they are apathetic, they certainly disapprove, but they do not take a stand. Little by little, the radio becomes increasingly hostile [to the government]. Here, I am categorical: when we talk about objectivity, it obviously means not considering just one point of view. Maybe, I don’t know, maybe in the past, we didn’t give enough voice to the opposition, although, personally, I feel we gave it a lot. In any case, I clearly remember that, when we were in opposition, we had no voice at all... Anyway, objectivity is no longer respected now, since practically only the opinion of the government's opponents is expressed. This raises a very serious issue for the ORTF, a problem that seems insoluble in the current state of affairs and that can only be addressed in the very long term.

The fever seems to have subsided a bit on May 19, and fatigue seems to be setting in, but nothing is decided. There are encouraging signs, such as in Marseille. What should also be remembered from the student movement is the failure of the professors, their great cowardice. Every time the government wanted to do something, all those who had privileges in the University and who showed paternalism refused any change. The day the explosion occurred, they immediately switched sides, rushing to the other side saying, “This is a scandal! The University must be reformed!” They ran even faster than their own students out of fear. I hope there will be a profound reform, and it will only be possible thanks to this violence. One must acknowledge that, in a calm and serene atmosphere, no very large reforms can be made. So, I hope they are accomplished and that all those who showed this cowardice and weakness will pay the price — not out of vengeance, but because it is truly justified.

Among the workers, a generational conflict is even more apparent than elsewhere. The young are concerned by the student movement, because they are worried about employment. The unions, which are, let’s say, left-wing, communist without being revolutionary, such as the CGT, followed. First, they tried to stop this student movement. L'Humanité wrote: “These daddy’s boys,” etc. Then, when they saw that it was gaining momentum, they feared being overwhelmed, so they joined the students. As soon as they could, they separated themselves to focus the workers only on material demands. Of course, within their ranks, there are all kinds of people, and some tried to take advantage of the confused situation to push all the way and establish “worker, peasant, and student power.”

I return to the radio. Radio Luxembourg played against the government all the time until May 19. Europe 1, which was quite harmful at the start, has been less so in the last two days, but still not supportive of us. Finally, the ORTF is practically in the hands of the adversaries. The Committee for Objectivity has precisely failed to be objective, as the news broadcasts of May 18 and the day before were unfavorable to us.

Of course, we are told that if we react, there will be a general strike. Should it be done before or after the General's intervention? I don’t know. As for me, I believe it would be better to deal with the issue now. In any case, all of this is not coordinated, and orders and counter-orders are coming from the Ministry of the Interior and even from the Minister. I was told, about some operation I can’t remember, that four orders and counter-orders were issued in thirty-five minutes...

As for the population, in the end, they did not fully realize the seriousness of the situation at the beginning. Now, they are worried, but they still don't change their habits. People went to the countryside thinking: “After all, this is not our business, it’s the government’s issue.” Obviously, through the one-sided information, they convince themselves that they are unhappy. As a result, they feel they have something to reproach the government for, they are angry at it. They are not angry at the General yet, maybe not at all, as this could change, and they expect everything from his speech. They wonder why the government is doing nothing. There is a sort of pressure, apathy, that makes it easy to say: “There is no government anymore.” In fact, during these few days, the Prime Minister showed great firmness and serenity, while many ministers were very worried.

It has been suggested that law enforcement forces were not reliable. This is false, and it is very unhealthy, because they may end up believing it themselves. Their members are asking for some material advantages, which are always refused, and I am categorical: they must be given to them, but without it appearing as a bonus. This should not be done in that spirit, but because it is justified.

What is the solution? Calm the minds, restore their confidence by taking courageous positions, speak, dialogue, explain, and unfortunately, this is not being done. It is not being done for several reasons: because we cannot have the Prime Minister on television every day; because the Minister of the Interior is very unpopular, and his appearance on television, as everyone says, would be very detrimental; because the Minister of Information is not suited to play this role either⁹.

That is what is dramatic. We should make the population aware of the wave of madness that is sweeping through, and we should also change a few ministers. Finally, we should have the people decide through a referendum and, if the climate allows, through elections. As for the referendum, the General had decided it even before leaving Romania, and Pompidou confirmed it to me on the evening of the 18th on the steps of the Élysée. When I said goodbye to the General, he also told me that the referendum was decided for June.

As for the students, it might be appropriate to create a commission including university authorities, parents, and students, and have it work directly under General de Gaulle’s direction. This is an idea of Mauricheau-Beaupré¹⁰. It may be valid, but it is not in the General’s style, and we won’t be able to do it.

As for the parties, Giscard is proving to be an adversary, though not very perceptive, because he does not realize that his cause is doomed. The PDM (Parti des Démocrates Modérés) is very worried because they fear losing in the case of elections, where one would have to choose between communism, Gaullism, and anarchy, while crushing the center. The Federation, Mitterrand in particular, seems to be completely overshadowed by the Communist Party and especially by the revolutionaries, as they are called.

The Communist Party remains very strong and well-organized, but it seems on the verge of being overwhelmed. As for the Gaullists, the Association for the Support of General de Gaulle's Action, the Service d’Action Civique, and the Committees for the Defense of the Republic (CDR¹¹) are yielding very good results. But, as the General has made clear, it’s out of the question to organize a large demonstration, let alone having ministers participate in it.

Monday, May 20, 1968

“I cannot do everything in this country!” Will Capitant vote for censure?

I see the General and I report to him the concerns in the country: ”What is the government doing?” A number of things could be done.

“Yes, I agree; we need to do a number of things, but I can't do everything in this country. For example, if people start to worry about the banks, measures must be taken to force the strike pickets at the Bank of France to allow bills to be released to supply the banks. Whereas the strike is perfectly legal, the government must also defend the citizen, and the citizen who doesn't have money to make it to the end of the month must be supported and defended by the government. The same goes for gasoline; the army must be made to intervene to transport fuel, so that gasoline can be distributed.”

“There is also a sense of fatigue: the strike isn't passionate, it's the hardcore groups who lead the others, who follow without much conviction.”

“They always say that, but the reality is here. Whether it's out of cowardice, possible, or indifference or lack of awareness, well, the lukewarm, as you say, the weak, follow the others. In total, it results in a very significant strike.”

Then, I talk to him about the situation in Strasbourg, which is not affected, nor is Bordeaux: “We live in Paris, which is different from the rest of the country.”

“That's possible, but anyway, when the SNCF isn't working...”

I observed that the General was fully aware that the result of the strike was an extremely important matter. For the National Assembly, I tell him that the censure should not be voted on, but that, among all the false rumors circulating, there is one suggesting that the censure vote should be for de Gaulle.

“In particular, Capitant is furious, and I think it would be best to ask him not to vote.”

“No, there’s no reason for that; I don’t need to ask him, and of course, I don’t have to meet with him.”

“No, you shouldn’t meet with him because, afterward, he always interprets things. But we should still ask him or have someone ask him.”

“No, I don’t want to. He knows exactly what I think. He knows exactly where his duty lies, so it’s up to him to make his decision.”

“Yes, but if we don’t want him to be contagious, we need to make sure he knows that he’ll be immediately excluded. We need to let him know tomorrow at the group meeting, and Rey is asking for instructions on this.”

“There’s no problem; we need to warn him that he will be excluded if he votes for the censure.”

“Moreover, there’s another problem, because people are saying that he might resign.”

The General makes a slight grimace.

“Well, in that case, would we put someone against him?”

“Of course, we couldn’t let him run in our name. Too bad for him. Another one to ensure gets defeated. Just like we’ll have to ensure those independent republicans who are against us get defeated.”

I talk about the CDR, where we have several hundred members. We are doing an excellent job distributing leaflets, but we lack resources, and I’m going to ask the Prime Minister for some. The General then gives a somewhat cynical smile: “Ah, resources…” as if to say, “Always the same thing, we always come back to this!” He didn’t say it, but he allows me to address this with Pompidou.

I report the results from Dijon, which are very good since Poujade got 49.60% of the vote. Therefore, he won’t be defeated next week. “Yes, that’s an important issue.”

Then, I move on to African problems, to which the General listens kindly. I mention that Zambia recognizes Biafra. Also, Port Harcourt has reportedly fallen, and the General is worried: “Is it true?”

“It’s, as always with these African stories, particularly Biafran and Nigerian issues, half-true. It’s certain that the Biafrans had to give up part of the port; now, I’m not sure if they can still control the airfield.”

I sense a lot of concern from the Africans, and it’s justified, as well as a great deal of sympathy shown through statements from African ambassadors and messages from heads of state. “Well, then, thank them.”

I also mention that Massemba-Debat has had a second child, and I offer to send a telegram on behalf of the General, which he agrees to.

Tuesday, May 21, 1968

“I have no ministers.” The ORTF, “I want to break all feudalities.”

I must admit, the day was dramatic. I tell the General that I find the situation has seriously worsened, and that we are heading toward subversion. The creation of action committees by the Communist Party and the CGT, all secretly directed by a revolutionary committee, is proof of this. I clearly sense the General is annoyed and irritated.

“We must put a stop to this, we must handle the Banque de France affair.”

“Well! The Banque de France affair is decided; what more do you want? I can’t do anything about it! I have no ministers: they don’t do what I ask them.”

He then launches into a long reflection on the past:

“I asked for University reforms from all the ministers. Seven of them went by, and each explained why he couldn’t do it, why it had to be delayed. They never knew how to make a decision. It was the case with Peyrefitte, it was the case with Fouchet, and it was the case, before that, with all the others. They were absolutely incapable of carrying out the policy I instructed them to follow. The tragedy in this country, you see, is that our supporters do not want to fight, and the others are incapable of leading anything. The French only turn to me at moments when they feel I can be of service to them — and even then, reluctantly. It was the case in 1940, it was the case in 1958. Once they’re no longer afraid…”

“Yes, well, precisely, fear is returning.”

“No, people say that, but it's not true.”

“Yes, but the situation is worsening in the provinces. We must change ministers. I'm sorry, I don’t want to attack the ministers, but Peyrefitte no longer exists; Gorse can't manage — it's not his fault — he simply isn’t suited for it; Jeanneney¹² has no contact.”

“Yes, regarding Peyrefitte, that’s true. As for Gorse, I’m going to replace him. I have already met with Sanguinetti — don't repeat that — Sanguinetti came to see me; he’s a man of action and I’m going to put him in charge of the radio. He'll be an effective spokesperson and I'll do it as soon as the censure motion is dealt with, likely the day after tomorrow.”

The General then launches into a long tirade against the ORTF:

“They’ve all flipped — all the Ragueneaus¹³ and the Astouxes and the others who supposedly are Gaullists: Gaullists who can't hold firm, Gaullists who collapse at the first challenge…”

“General, it’s unfair to say that.”

We have a whole discussion, a full-blown argument that I won't detail here:

“As for Astoux, it has often been said — I myself have told you: he needed to have full control over operations. That was never the case, and he couldn't command. So he couldn’t organize things, and it’s unfair to now blame him for the disorder.”

“But what do you expect me to do? You're all the same, it's incredible! If the country wants to lie down, if the country wants to paralyze itself, I can’t save it against its will. We will have done all that was possible. Well then, too bad! I’ll leave, because there's nothing else to do. France, as we have it this May, is a dead France.”

“General, it’s being reborn through its students, but we must channel that energy, we must ride the current.”

He replies with very bitter and somewhat unpleasant words. Capitant will not vote for the censure motion but plans to submit his resignation. I again bring up the action committees formed by the Communist Party and the CGT. In the provinces, the unrest is very great. In Anjou, a Gaullist stronghold, things are going badly because of “governmental failure.”

“At least, that’s what people are saying, and you need to know it.”

“Yes, I know, but leave me alone about it, I know! What do you want? People won’t lead, the Prime Minister is entangled with this confidence vote, and the ministers are nonexistent. They don’t do what they’re supposed to; I can’t do anything about it. I can’t replace each of them; you must understand, it’s not possible.”

“The non-strikers now hold the government responsible, for failing to protect the freedom to work — and on top of that, it doesn’t even explain why. People need dialogue.”

“Leave me alone with your dialogue stories.”

It’s a rather unpleasant evening. I leave a little wounded, but deeply saddened for the General, who doesn’t have the full support he needs to carry out his vision.
It is tragic to see a man, at his age, with everything he has done, feeling — not yet abandoned, at least not fully — but powerless because some of the mechanisms no longer work, unable to make the State function. It’s then that he says to me:

“You know, what must be done is to hold the referendum and win it; afterwards, I don’t know if we’ll be able to organize elections immediately.”

“If we are to hold elections immediately, we need to dissolve the Assembly now. It’s not good to have elections at the same time as the referendum.”

“No, certainly not!”

“Then, if it's the two following Sundays, that would make three Sundays in a row — that's a lot.”

“Indeed! Then we'll do them in the autumn. And then I’ll carry out the reforms; because I want to make the reforms that are indispensable: reforming the University, reforming society. I want to break all the feudalities that hold back the country and expose it to enormous risks. Once I have achieved capital-labor association, and university participation — participation of students and academics — well, then, I will leave, because all this is no longer bearable.”

At heart, what’s incredible about this man is how forward-looking his ideas are, whereas his opponents — depending on who — see him as a conservative.
He is a man with the broadest, most progressive, and most generous ideas.
And he is certainly a very unhappy man.

I have dinner with Messmer. We talk a lot about the situation and the possible attitude of the army. Then I return to the Élysée, where I meet Alain de Boissieu¹⁴, who had dinner with his father-in-law and shares my impression about the General's intentions.

The General spoke to his son-in-law about Guy Mollet’s speech at the Assembly: “It’s a shame to see a man who was once President of the Council taking such positions; he completely lacks dignity.” On the other hand, he found Poujade extremely good: “He’s a young man who handles his business with skill, who is courageous, who connects well — he’s a truly remarkable young man.”

I don’t know what the coming days will bring, but this Tuesday the 21st has been one of the most difficult and trying days for me as well. I won’t go into all the endless phone calls I received from all over, from the provinces and elsewhere, full of pessimistic reports. I am constantly forced either to calm down the agitated or to reassure the weak and timid. Physically, it’s very exhausting.

You feel like you’re “discharging your own batteries” to recharge others’ batteries, just to keep the situation under control — and you really feel like you are giving of yourself.

Wednesday, May 22, 1968

“We’ll have to cut to the quick.” “Radio and television are in the hands of our opponents.” The CDRs. The attack on Rue de Solferino.

The debate on the motion of no confidence in the Assembly has just ended. When the General receives me, I don't yet know the result. I say that the motion will almost certainly not pass, and that it probably won't receive more than 235 votes. In the end, I was off by just two votes.

There seems to be a huge gap between the calm at the Palais-Bourbon and the upheaval shaking the country. Pisani behaved poorly, quite in keeping with his character: “Yes, of course, it was obvious — he could only betray us.” I wanted to remind the General what I had said about Pisani a year earlier, when he had formed his government and appointed him to the Ministry of Public Works; I had not been mistaken.

“You know, all this isn’t very important. What matters now is to win the referendum and then take a series of tough measures. We’ll have to really cut into the quick.

“For now, I’m seeing an improvement in morale. There’s a beginning of a recovery in the provinces: in the North and in Toulouse, workers want to return to work — though at the same time, the pickets are becoming more aggressive.”

“Of course — there are always those who want to block work.”

“They’re a violent minority.”

“Maybe they’re a minority, maybe you’re right — but even so, they have the last word, because in the end, it’s their decisions that are enforced.”

“General, it’s because the State isn’t setting the example. If there really is, as I believe, a majority who want to go back to work, they must be allowed to. Radio should be able to report on it.”

“Oh, leave me alone about the radio! You're always bringing up the radio — the radio, the television... And you know very well they’re in the hands of our opponents and there’s nothing we can do about it. And all those people — your people — all your Astoux, your Ragueneau, your Sablier¹⁵ and the others who, according to you, were always ready to do this or that... In this crisis, they have been miserable, pathetic!”

“General, it's true — they were pathetic, miserable. I was the first to tell them so.”

“Well, then?”

“In any case, when the time came to appoint Astoux, it wasn't done. Maybe he wouldn’t have done any better, but maybe it would have made a difference. Gaullists are never really given their chance, because we always take half-measures.”

“No, these are stories!”

He reacted violently, and once again, we had a heated argument. I simply added: “When this crisis is over, General, we must remember all this.”

The Committees for the Defense of the Republic (CDRs) are operating well; 620 new memberships were received just yesterday. Two CDRs have been formed in high schools, and a team of journalists is working as well. There is even a CDR at the ORTF (the French broadcasting organization), made up mostly of junior staff.
The General is very interested. For him, it is at least a small consolation amid the disarray we are seeing.

I note that everything is calm in the overseas territories (TOMs and DOMs). Then we talk a little about the ministerial reshuffle that will soon be necessary. The General doesn't say much. I suggest that this time, he must appoint decisive people — not those who think only of their careers. Competent, of course, but above all loyal. We're going through an ordeal that will be long, and loyalty is what matters most. The General agrees, but with a somewhat weary air. He mentions the recording of the address he must deliver on the 24th.

“I’m sorry,” I say, “that it couldn't be moved up. Time is short: the mood, the morale of the country is deteriorating.”

“Leave me alone!”

He sketches out the main points of his speech. I find it a little thin: “General, you need to put more feeling into it.” I can sense his growing irritation, but I persist:
”It’s my duty to tell you — otherwise, what use would I be? You must put more heart into it. The nation needs to feel in tune with you, to regain confidence in your words, not to feel you are simply passing judgment from on high...”

He cuts me off: “Yes, yes, I know, I know!” He is extremely exasperated.

Still, I can tell that what I said has left an impression. There’s nothing more I can do at that point.

We move on to African issues. The Entente is set to meet in Lomé on May 29, and the former presidents of Dahomey will be gathering in Niamey shortly. The General talks about this to take his mind off things for a while. He brings up Dahomey's history. I also mention the many messages we are receiving, including a letter from Bongo. “Reply on my behalf, and do what needs to be done,” he says.

During the day, I first saw Astoux, whom I am to meet again tomorrow. He came to complain about how things weren’t working due to lack of resources. So I told him: “Enough. We’re in a revolutionary moment now. You must impose yourself. You say you have loyal people — well, now’s the time to prove it. Take charge. And if you’re overruled or run into trouble, I’ll take responsibility alongside you. The time has come to fight — not to whine about past mistakes. We’ll settle scores later if needed. But for now, fighting is vital.”

I saw Bizot¹⁶ for a few minutes too; he told me the Bank of France isn’t providing the means to meet obligations. The banking situation is not very bright.

That evening, Pompidou came to see the General. He was pleased with the vote, reinvigorated. He showed great composure — maybe even a little too much optimism — but I know how much optimism is needed to steer affairs in such difficult times.

That night came the attack on Rue de Solferino¹⁷. First, a group of students marched all the way to the National Assembly. From there, about a thousand of them moved to Rue de Solferino. They began shouting under the windows, where a large banner on the first floor proclaimed: “Committee for the Defense of the Republic.” They showed a remarkable ferocity. I was kept updated by telephone — I had gone home by then. The mob tried to break down the solid front door, using street signs torn from the sidewalks as battering rams. They then threw phosphorus grenades into poor Colinot’s office. The fire took hold, and those inside struggled to put it out. The attackers smashed windows everywhere, even throwing acid bottles through first-floor windows into the General’s office¹⁸. With slingshots, they fired bolts that reached up to the second and third floors. Inside, we had about 150 young men ready to rush out. By phone, I firmly forbade it, telling them to stay calm but determined, as I was arranging for the public authorities to intervene. It was then I realized how absurdly the police command was acting. A company of riot police (CRS) was stationed on the quays, just about a hundred meters from Rue de Solferino, when the protesters approached. This company moved forward to Rue de Lille — that is, about twenty meters from Rue de Solferino. From there, they watched the assault on the building impassively.

Inside, the besieged defended themselves by throwing full bottles. As they said to me: “We’re throwing water at them, wrapped in bottles.” At one point, when the pressure on the door was particularly strong, they hurled a crate full of beer bottles from the third floor. It was an extremely rough situation. Meanwhile, the CRS still did not intervene. It took the arrival of the district police commissioner — who showed up in a black-and-white “magpie” car — to finally give the order for them to act. That’s when I discovered that all these forces — whether gendarmes or CRS — stationed at the critical points across the capital, could not intervene without a direct order from the local police commissioner, the only authority empowered to make such a decision. It was as if, during a war, there were no overall military command, no field commands, no sector commands — only the heads of regional or departmental subdivisions left to manage the battle. Completely insane. After ten minutes of assault, the commissioner arrived and ordered the CRS to move in. They advanced, and not a single blow was exchanged: the protesters withdrew immediately. I must say that some of them looked a bit battered nonetheless.
To give a sense of the mood, the attackers remained about fifty meters from the building. The people inside Solferino opened the door, and I had a hard time preventing them from launching a counterattack — but they were only 150, while the others numbered a thousand.

Having struggled to hold them back, Pasqua¹⁹ and others remained standing at the doorway, talking with the CRS. Their leader asked:

“How many of you are inside?”
“About 150.”
“And you're not going to go beat them up?”
“No, we have orders not to make a sortie.”
“Ah, I see! You're under the same orders as us: we're not supposed to hurt them. No fighting allowed. Believe me, if I had orders to do so, it would have been wrapped up long ago. But they never want us to intervene.”

Impressive statements! And the police officer made a whole series of comments that reflected rather poor morale.

Thursday, May 23, 1968

Important personalities are signing up with the CDRs. Some “lost soldiers” from the OAS also. “You want to do like Cohn-Bendit…” — The movement in Africa.

It was a long, difficult day. The unease is growing, anxiety is spreading. I am absolutely sure that if we speak loudly and firmly, if we show authority, things can be sorted out. But it is very difficult; there is a feeling that communications are poor.

In the evening, I tell the General that the demonstrations are not very significant: “At the Bastille, there are currently around seven to eight thousand CGT demonstrators. In Balard, six thousand, and in Montreuil, about ten thousand. On the student side, at Stalingrad, the gathering includes about two thousand five hundred people, at Porte des Lilas, five thousand, and at Denfert, two thousand. Once again, the CGT as a whole and the students are not badly steered. But it is clear that among both groups, there is a small, extremely hard core that has no real concern for the problems of the working or student world. They want revolution for revolution’s sake.”

“Yes, I know well, and all that is guided from China and, obviously, Germany. I have noticed that for quite some time. Moreover, there is a shift happening with the Chinese that is quite telling.”

“In the provinces, the situation is a bit more serious. In Périgueux, the gates of the prefecture have been broken down.”

The General looks surprised — he wasn't aware.

“In Quimper, calm has returned, and as the morale of the strikers seems to ease somewhat, the picket lines are being reinforced. There is always the impression that a small minority is blocking any resumption.”

I then talk about the attack on rue de Solferino, the mindset of the CRS, and the poor organization of command:

“Yes, that's possible. We can't change the setup for now, but it definitely needs to be reviewed.”

I mention that things continue to go fairly well in Marseille:

“Yes, that's because there’s a man like Comiti²⁰ down there. You see, in many cases, what's missing are men capable of taking charge, of giving direction, of fighting. There aren’t many of them, believe me!”

And once again, he launches into a fairly harsh criticism against the ORTF and all those incapable of taking control of their responsibilities. Then I talk about the CDRs, where Miss Dienesch²¹ went to register, as well as Maurice Schumann (which makes the General smile). Robert Galley, the director of Informatics, too.

“Ah yes…”

“Yes, he’s a very good young man and a companion of the Liberation.”

“Yes, I know him well, he’s Leclerc’s son-in-law. He married one of the Hauteclocque girls.”

“He’s a determined young man. It's men like that we now need in the government — he has real capabilities.”

“Oh! But he's very young.”

“General, it's toward men like that that we must now turn. In any case, I must tell you that he has shown a lot of determination. He practically comes by Solferino every day to say: ‘If you need me, I'm here, call on me. If there’s fighting to do, I’ll come immediately.’”

This whole CDR business has brought a lot of OAS supporters back into the fold. Then, still skeptical, the General tells me:

“Yes, of course. It's always the same story.”

“General, you had the left-wingers during the Algeria affair, and now, facing this dramatic situation, the supporters of French Algeria, who are nonetheless undeniable patriots. Whatever their past opposition to us, they are returning, forgetting the past.”

I point out that I have found there former convicts from Saint-Martin-de-Ré, as well as officers with whom I had fallen out since 1962, and who now come to tell me: “We are here to fight.” All this is fairly encouraging. Nevertheless, I add: “We undeniably risk being branded to the right.” We talk about Poujade:

“He must respond to Mitterrand, because Mitterrand intends to respond to the address I am to deliver: he is said to be holding a press conference on Tuesday. So, Poujade must also hold a press conference to take Mitterrand to task, remind him of certain things, and publicly shame him. Please ask him to do so on my behalf.”

Since the recording of his speech was scheduled for the next day, I added: “General, regarding your address, I must insist.” From then on, once again, it became extremely difficult, even painful — unpleasant and stressful:

“I assure you that first, you must show will and determination.”

“Yes!”

“And at the same time, you must make people feel that you understand their dismay, that you are with them.”

“Yes!”

“You have to give the impression of wanting dialogue.”

Then he made a completely unpleasant remark:

“You want to do like Cohn-Bendit.”

I tried, as much as possible, to show him the importance of this address and the human element that had to be present.

In the Antilles, the teachers and the Communist Party are organizing demonstrations that seem likely to be important in Fort-de-France, and they are calling for a general strike. Then we mostly discuss Dakar, where about a hundred French students out of eight hundred have launched a movement in support of their Parisian comrades. This does not surprise him:

“Don't be under any illusions, if things tipped over here, it wouldn't be long before the same happened in Africa.”

We review the different states, and it is clear that their stability relies on a strong, solid France, and that they would collapse into anarchic revolution — not a revolution of ideas, but purely anarchic — if France fell.

A new attack occurred in Djibouti against an Issa supporter of Aref, and an Issa woman was killed. The General asks me questions about the circumstances of her death. Unfortunately, I did not always date my notes precisely, and some things dated the 23rd I actually said on the 24th, after the speech. For instance, I found a note: “Speak before Friday, let the people decide.”

That was right at the beginning, just after the General had set the date for his address. Obviously, I couldn't note everything: the density of events was such that I was besieged from all sides by phone calls, leading a truly exhausting existence²². The telephone never stopped ringing, day or night. With this distressing feeling of a situation that, little by little, was going wrong, tipping to the bad side, without being able to fully understand why. Finally, on the eve of the General’s address, there is a lot of hope placed in this intervention.

Friday, May 24, 1968

Mediocre speech. Meeting with veterans of the OAS.

As on previous occasions, we attended the recording of the speech — mainly Tricot, La Chevalerie, Lalande, and myself. I must say that both Tricot and I were quite moved, and I even had the impression that Tricot was very emotional. Immediately afterward, the General got up and went into the adjoining room, known as the winter garden. We sat next to him on the couch to watch the playback of what he recorded. A very small incident occurred at the beginning of the speech: the first three words didn’t come through. Immediately, the General said to Gorse, Dupont²³, and Astoux: “Careful, that wasn’t recorded.” — “Yes, yes, General, it’s because, on this reel, it didn’t come through. But don’t worry, for tonight it will be perfect.” Result: in the evening, of course, it didn’t come through either. The General, contrary to his usual habit, didn’t ask for the opinions of those around him. He listened and said: “Gentlemen, it’s very good.” He stood up, and we escorted him out.

That evening, toward the end of the audience, the General asked me:

“What do you think?”

“General, I stand by what I told you; I find it a bit short, a bit dry. I don’t think it’s exactly what the French people are waiting for.”

At that moment, I felt that the General took these remarks poorly, understood them poorly, although I felt I had to make them because they reflected my true thoughts and that was my role. So, once again — and perhaps not for the last time — I said to him:

“General, I am here to tell you what I think, and I find that it was not exactly what was needed.”

That night, a student demonstration turned into a full-blown riot. It’s not necessary to describe it here, since all the details are recorded elsewhere. I must say that I was truly anxious because I could feel, little by little, a kind of paralysis setting in. I resisted it, but I increasingly felt that very few of us were resisting, and that we were gradually going to let ourselves be engulfed — by I don't know what — by subversion, by the revolutionaries, the rioters, the anarchists — without being able to respond. Still, I couldn’t accept that. A few of us reasoned this way.

On May 24, I received former officers who practically joined the OAS, first-rate men with whom I had had a definitive falling-out back in 1961. With one of them, whose name I prefer not to mention here, I had one last contact in April 1961, during the night of the putsch, in front of the Élysée Palace, because, distrusting him, I didn’t want to let him enter the palace. At the end of that encounter, we concluded: “Now, the die is cast.” I had told him: “What you are about to do will lead France to anarchy and communism.” I knew that the boy was acting in good faith and that he was outraged by what I was telling him. That meeting ended with: “Well, then, we’ll have to shoot fast when we face each other again, because we are both good shots.” I hadn’t seen him since.

He asked to meet me on May 24, and I received him along with another officer. They came to tell me: “Here’s the situation. We have a number of determined men, fighters, former commandos, who may have aged a little but have kept their spirit and courage. They want to act against the growing anarchy, against the takeover by totalitarian parties. So we met, discussed at length, and ultimately decided that you were the one best able to guide us and take charge.” I responded with some reservations: “That must not have been easy.”

“No, there were some long discussions, but everyone ultimately agreed that you are a loyal man, a man of courage and honor, and that it had to be you.”

“What we must avoid above all is civil war, so nothing should be done that could provoke it. Your men must stay calm. As citizens, they can do what they want, but they must not get involved in demonstrations, or in militant activities like putting up posters — that’s not their role. But they must be ready, if the nation is truly threatened, if anarchy takes over the streets. If — alas! — the reckoning comes, then we must find each other again.”

And I gave them some instructions for regrouping while also calming them down as much as possible.

1. The Prime Minister has just returned to Paris, at the end of his trip to Iran and Afghanistan.

2. Christian de La Malène, deputy for the Seine, was a close associate of Michel Debré.
Gaston de Bonneval, aide-de-camp to General de Gaulle between 1945 and 1965, was now serving at the Economic and Social Council. René Ribière, a former member of the RPF, had been in de Gaulle’s cabinet during his presidency of the Council in 1958; he was now a deputy for Seine-et-Oise. For more on the role of the dinner guests and some other Gaullists in May 1958, see particularly Foccart parle, Volume I, Chapter 4: “The Fourteenth Plot of May 13.”

3. Jean-Claude Vajou is a journalist at Paris-Jour.

4. Pierre Juillet is a member of Georges Pompidou's cabinet.

5. Jacques Chirac is Secretary of State for Employment.

6. Louis Joxe is the Minister of Justice; Pierre Billotte, Maurice Schumann, and Edmond Michelet are Ministers of State; Raymond Marcellin is the Minister delegated to the Prime Minister.

7. Gaston Palewski is the President of the Constitutional Council.

8. Daniel Cohn-Bendit, the most charismatic leader of the student movement, is of German nationality.

9. Georges Gorse is Minister of Information.

10. Jean Mauricheau-Beaupré is a “man behind the curtain” in Jacques Foccart’s circle.

11. The Committees for the Defense of the Republic are a temporary organization led by Pierre Lefranc

12. Jean-Marcel Jeanneney is Minister of Social Affairs.

13. Philippe Ragueneau, Companion of the Liberation, former director of the second television channel of the RTF, is attached to the General Inspectorate of the ORTF.

14. General Alain de Boissieu was the husband of Élisabeth de Gaulle.

15. Édouard Sablier was the director of television news at the time.

16. Henri Bizot was president of BNP (Banque Nationale de Paris).

17. This is the headquarters of the SAC (Service d'Action Civique).

18. It was the office General de Gaulle used during his “wilderness years” between WWII and his return to power.

19. Pasqua is one of main leaders of the SAC.

20. Professor of medicine Joseph Comiti is the leader of the Gaullists in Marseille.

21. Marie-Madeleine Dienesch is the vice-president of the UDR group in the National Assembly.

22. Indeed, during the week of May 20–26, some confusion slipped into the manuscript. The chronology has been restored as much as possible with certainty, but some imprecision or ambiguity remains.

23. Jacques Dupont is the Director-General of the ORTF.