FRANCE: Opposition

The slogan of most opposition parties in Europe might well be the battle cry that punsters once pinned on U. S. Socialist Norman Thomas: “Cast away your votes and follow me!” Oppositionists are purged in Russia, shot in Germany, castor-oiled in Italy, executed in Spain, while in most of Central Europe their continued existence is dependent upon the utter impossibility of their ever winning an election. Last week two big opposition party congresses —Labor in England (see p. 24) and Socialist in France—demonstrated that even in Europe’s democracies, where oppositionists are not considered criminals, enemies of the State, traitors, wreckers, boors or madmen, opposition parties are having too much trouble holding together to think of taking power.

In the huge Palais de l’Alimentation in Nantes, the chief interest of some 8,000 Socialists was watching ex-Premier Léon Blum, party president for 15 years, fight a losing battle with his old friend, 61-year-old, thin-lipped, General Secretary Paul Faure.

Ever since Munich Blum has been plumping for French rearmament, strengthening of the Franco-Soviet Pact, a united front against aggressors. He has supported Premier Daladier’s foreign policy since that policy edged away from appeasement, even traveled to London to persuade the Labor Party to abandon its traditional fight against conscription.

This was heresy to practical, pro-Munich Paul Faure. Colorless, competent, cautious, he has been political organizer of the party as Blum has been its intellectual head. Heir of the pre-War traditions of French Socialism, he plumped for peace above all, insisted that “the day the Fascist nations believe themselves encircled they will certainly go to war.” Support for rearmament came hard for him because he made a reputation exposing armament makers, earned the enmity of powerful Armorer Charles Schneider. He was thus squarely opposed to his friend Léon Blum when their party’s annual Congress came round.

At Nantes, where hotels were so full some delegates had to make special arrangements, tolerantly giving up their rooms to prostitutes when necessary, the ex-Premier went into battle controlling a majority of the delegates. He offered a motion advocating a united front against aggressor nations abroad, continuation of the Popular Front, with Communists included, at home. The vote: 5,490 against, 1,761 for.

Afraid to force an issue with his friend’s henchmen that might split the party, M. Blum went to bed with the grippe. When Friend Faure called to work out a compromise with the sick man, the hotel concierge, who had heard of the feud, would not let him into M. Blum’s room, asked if he had “evil intentions”—a story Blum later told effectively. Compromise was worked out while delegates, waiting until dawn for a report, munched strawberries they bought from farm wagons rumbling into the market under the building. It called for an international peace front, to suit Blum. But it also called for an international conference to give economic satisfaction to the “have-not” powers; a six-month party truce—both victories for Faure, as was the Congress’ decision forbidding Socialists to belong to semi-Communist organizations. Shouted Old Friend Faure, as observers decided Old Friend Blum’s power was slipping fast, “I shall never separate from Monsieur Blum!”

But nobody did anything about trying to put a friend of Socialism back in the French driver’s seat.